Hurrying to catch Joe, Ransom was almost nailed by a car coming from the other direction, on the opposite side of the road. After muttering a few choice words and thanking God for sparing him, this time, Ransom joined Joe at the back of a large, dark car. They were still alive and no one had yelled at them to get down or to stop or to reach for the sky.
“Neither one has moved,” Joe said, “I think they may have killed each other.”
“Good, let’s call the cops and ride away,” Ransom said, “We really don’t have the time to get involved with all of this.”
“And you’re supposed to be the responsible one,” Joe pointed out.
“Yeah, well, that was before guns were involved,” Ransom admitted, “and I guess while we’re standing here, being seen by every passing car, including the two that almost hit us, we’re getting in deeper.”
“So let’s check it out,” Joe said, leaning his bike against the Cadillac.
“And then call the cops,” Ransom added as he too leaned his bike against the ten year old stereotype.
They slowly stepped around the car right into a scene from Law and Order.
In front of them, on his back, was a very dead man. He was dark haired, or he was light haired and the blood had stained it dark, it was hard to tell, there was so much blood. His face was mostly missing, and the chest of what was once a white shirt was torn and blood soaked. The ground around the body was soaked as well. Next to him, between the body and the car, was a black bag, the ubiquitous black gym bag of hundreds of cop dramas. In his right hand, falling out of his right hand, was a small Uzi looking gun. When they were able to tear their eyes away from the dead guy at their feet, Ransom and Joe found the man who had shot him.
He was laying next to the other late model sedan in the parking lot, about 15 yards away, parked pointed towards the Cadillac beside which dead guy number one was lying. (hmmm, laying and lying in the same sentence, nice) Dead guy number two (and yes, he was dead, obviously, his gun, and the arm holding it, was behind him, with most of his head. From 15 yards, it looked pretty bad, but as they got closer it looked even worse.
“Do we really have to do this?” asked Ransom as they neared the mess that was once a man.
“I guess not,” Joe replied, “but aren’t you even a little curious about the gym bags?”
He pointed to a bag identical to the one dead guy number one had splattered with blood. Or, to be more accurate, the bullets from dead guy number two’s gun caused to…oh hell, Ransom thought, stop trying to analyze it so much.
“I’ll grab this one, you grad the other, and we’ll open them. Then we’ll call the cops,” Joe said as he carefully avoided the blood puddles and grabbed the bag lying between dead guy number two and Cadillac number two. Ransome hurried back to dead guy number one and grabbed that bag, also being careful to not disturb the evidence, thinking all the time about his sneakers and how he was going to have to burn them now so the cops couldn’t trace the patterns. Joe wasn’t going to be so lucky though, he had those expensive bike shoes that Ransom hadn’t bought yet, and was leaving very obvious bike guy prints with every step. Of course this was a popular bike rider parking area, so maybe there were plenty of…Ransom stopped his thoughts again, grabbed the bag and his bike and headed across the parking lot.