If you were to meet Shelby Gore, she is just a cute teenage girl with a lot on her mind. She’s about three and a half blocks from her home on Main Street, walking alone from the local high school. An old tan colored car has just jumped the curb next to her, with both passenger-side doors flying open.
Two Hispanic looking men are getting out quickly, the one from the front seat has a wet rag in one hand. The man from the back seat has a revolver in one hand. A rag that smells like chloroform, can only mean one thing, and it’s ALL bad.
This is Cedarville with no major crimes in the last about four years, Shelby ought to know. That was the day 12-year-old Shelby Gore killed ten grown men. These hoodlums from Mtn. High were extorting Social Security money from Cedarville’s old folks. The Police were too scared to do anything about this problem.
Now, four years have passed, and a new problem is on the horizon. Kidnap me? My parents aren’t rich, these guys must think I’m somebody else. Oh well, that’s their problem, I’m not in the mood to go quietly. I grabbed the arm of the man with the wet rag, slamming him back into the doorway he’d just come out of. A loud cracking sound as his neck hit the car roof edge.
The man with the gun from the backseat, never saw my foot headed for his gun hand. Good thing he was holding his gun tightly, when it hit his chin: BANG! A big hole was made in the top of his head as the bullet exited. Second man from the backseat, was trying to get out to help his friends. I kicked his face hard enough; his head broke out the back window on the driver’s side.
Now, for the driver who cannot believe what has happened to his partners in crime. They are all dead, and now it’s his turn to face this crazy teenager. Jumping to the roof of the car, then down to the ground on the driver’s side. I reached in and grabbed this man, pulling him halfway out, then slammed him back against the car door frame. His back broke.
The car door came open hard, but I got it open. Reaching in, I bashed the man’s head onto the dash, breaking the steering wheel and leaving a dent in the dash. When I get pissed off, I must do whatever is necessary to protect myself from the immediate danger. This is not my first dog and pony show, the count has just reached fifteen for the men I’ve had to kill since I came to this small Ozark town. Every one of the fifteen brought what they got on themselves.
“Shelby, take it easy girl, you’ve done all the damage you can do. All four are dead; I’m Captain Rita Turner the new head of your Carter Security team.” it was a not bad looking blonde woman I’d never seen before with a big Doberman.
Something about this old car looked familiar, so going to the back of the car, I kicked the trunk lid open. Inside was the lifeless body of Old Bob, a friend I’d known for more than the last four years. He was one of the old guys who spend their days sitting on the benches in the Town Square Park. I’d spent many hours talking with these old men when heading down to Young’s to get stuff my Mom wanted.
Now, I was ready to go back and stomp these four hoodlums into the ground. “Honey, the four are already dead, there’s nothing more you can do. Come on back and have a seat in the Surburban. We’ve already called the Police, but the Sanders family will be here shortly. Do not make any statements to anyone, that is their jobs to do that for you.”
It was good to be able to sit down and shut my eyes, the seat was comfortable; suddenly my eyes opened as a white Excalibur roadster was coming toward us. That would be my true friends Ted and Jessica Sanders, farther down the street I could hear Jodie Meyer’s Harley Davidson. It’s nice to know that I do have true friends who care about me.