The Nothing Read Online Free PDF

made him want to scream. He then heard the front door squeak open and the sound of several feet shuffling on broken glass. It was time to fight. From behind the bar counter, Bentley could see a metal exit door with one of those long push bars in the middle of it at the back of the kitchen. He figured he could make a run for the door and keep running until he was far away. Maybe a few blocks down the road would be a good safe distance. Then he would find someone with a working cell phone, CB radio or by chance a fellow officer.
    Being the worst possible time and place, Bentley’s stomach became gassy. He figured the stress was causing his stomach acid to burn up his breakfast, thus creating the smoke that forms farts. Laying on his stomach didn’t help either. After what seemed like a few seconds, his ass sang with the glory of a thousand tubas. Shots rang out again from behind the counter after the gunman heard Bentley’s fart. Bentley couldn’t tell if it was five or fifteen feet away. The loud pops were deafening to him as he felt small splinters of wood poking and smacking against his skin as volley after volley of shots flew through the front side of the counter. Bullets made loud ringing sounds as they banged against the beer kegs underneath the counter. The air began to smell like sweet icing as bullets ripped through sugar packets.
    Bentley wondered if he was going to get out of this alive. He wanted to pray, but knew it would take away from his focus. He didn’t think about his wife Mary, wanting to have kids, or anything they say flashes before your eyes in moments like this. All that was on his mind was defending himself and escaping. It was a hard focus. The metal door in the back was probably twenty or twenty-five feet away. It was a sprint that guaranteed nothing. He would get up and run as fast as he could, knowing that bullets would be flying at his back. The chance was almost guaranteed that he would feel that burning pinch he had heard described to him before. Spoken from officers who were lucky enough to survive being shot. As he readied himself to go, he heard a voice call out, “Come on out motherfucker, you don’t go around shooting bitches in this neighborhood!” Sounded like a gang member, but Bentley wasn’t sure. Couldn’t tell anything without seeing his face.
    Bentley had hoped to never ha ve to shoot anyone. Yet he knew what he had to face on the job day to day. To make it home alive, every time, is what he would pray for. Many cops, who have had to kill someone in the line of duty, say that you are never the same afterward. Hearing some of the stories made Bentley question his decision to become a cop from time to time. Mary once told him, with tears in her eyes, “I love you as you are now and I want you to always stay the way you are. Promise me you won’t let the job change you like it has others. Be strong and come home the same sweet Bentley that I fell in love with. You are what I need. I need you to talk to me if something happens, don’t hold anything in or deal with it by yourself. Promise me ok?”
    It was now or never. Bentley leaped into a sprint knowing that he would be fully exposed to a group of men who wanted to kill him. Thank God that girl is alive for now. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to shoot her. I wanted so badly for her to put the knife down and sit. Why oh why didn’t she sit the fuck down? Bentley ran harder than he had ever run before. His eyes fixated on the back door, left open a few inches from previous refugees. Bentley’s head was in overdrive. The radio and cell phone were dead and he had to abandon a suspect he had just shot, who was still bleeding. Screw what ever comes out on the news! Better to be alive and bashed by the evening news than be dead .
    To Bentley’s surprise , no one shot at him as he ran toward the back door. Hot August sunshine slapped him in the face as he flung the door open. Bentley immediately saw and ran maybe ten feet to a