Cemetery Closing (Everything Must Go) by Jeff Strand (An Andrew Mayhem Thriller Book 5)
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.7 MB
As a stay-at-home dad taking care of triplets, Andrew Mayhem’s days of getting into wild adventures are over. His life is measured in diaper changes. Sleep has become an abstract concept, something oft-discussed with his wife Helen but rarely experienced.
So when Internet celebrity explorer Percival Longshore asks Andrew and his best friend Roger to travel with him on a good old-fashioned treasure hunt, Andrew laughs off the idea. He can’t even watch ten consecutive minutes of a movie, much less fly to the rainforest in South America to see if an old map is accurate.
The base pay is generous, the potential reward is astronomical, and Percival assures him that he will be in absolutely no danger. After Helen gives her blessing for Andrew to leave for a few days, he finds himself on a small motorboat on the Amazon River seeking his fortune. Maybe this adventure really will be different.
When they pass a skinned body tied to a pole, Andrew realizes that nothing has changed…
He didn’t stop. I assumed that he wasn’t stupid enough to be trying to kill himself with an unloaded gun, so if he kept pulling the trigger, it might become unjammed and splatter his brains all over. My preference was for that not to happen.
I moved toward him.
He stepped back, keeping the gun in his mouth.
“Give me the gun,” I said.
He shook his head and continued to pull the trigger.
He refused to hand it over. Despite my state of pure exhaustion, I decided that I could summon enough energy to try to forcibly remove the gun from his mouth. I rushed at him. He quickly backed away, tripped, and landed on his ass. He didn’t stop pulling the trigger. I crouched down and tried to grab the gun away from him, but he was moving around too much and I couldn’t get a hold of it.
“Keep your head still! I mean it!”
He said something that I couldn’t understand because he was talking with a gun in his mouth.
Maybe I should just leave.
No, I’d feel bad if I heard a gunshot go off as soon as I walked away. I’d seen much worse messes, but still, if you can stop some dude from offing himself, you should give it your best shot. And, yes, I recognize that “give it your best shot” is exactly the wrong phrase to use, but it’s an accurate reflection of my mental process during this time.
I grabbed for the gun again. Got a hold of his hand that was holding the gun. Tried to pry it out of his mouth. Couldn’t. Tried harder. Still couldn’t. Realized that if the gun went off while I was trying to pull it out of his mouth, it would be rather challenging to explain that I was trying to prevent him from getting shot. Kept trying anyway.
I punched him in the stomach with the hand that wasn’t trying to pull the gun out of his mouth. He let out a grunt of pain, and then I successfully yanked the gun away. It popped out of my hand, flew across the room, and struck the floor. It did not go off and shoot him in the face, which was perhaps a sign that my luck was changing.
He got up and ran.
I’m not sure why he felt the need to run. What was he fleeing? An inspirational speech about how life is worth living?
He smacked into a large bookshelf, then fell again. The bookshelf wobbled. You know how in a movie when something is about to hit somebody, they stare at it and scream instead of trying to get out of the way? That’s what he did. He put up his hand, as if that was sufficient to block the fall of six rows of hardcovers, and cried out.