Cassidy had not anticipated this, he stupidly assumed that Alfie would back down when faced with a stronger opposition. Vic’s error was to judge his enemy by his own shortcomings.
Faced with the option to either stand and fight, or to make a run for it, Vic made his choice instantly; it was automatic and without hesitation. Faster than lightning, he ran back into the bedroom and bolted the door before Alfie could even get close to him.
In pursuit of his prey, Alfie ran up to the door and attempted to open it, but it would not budge. Desperately he tried again, this time throwing his shoulder into it but still it did not shift. Then he noticed Vic’s shotgun leaning against the wall. He snatched it up, took two paces backwards and blasted the door open. Still holding the shotgun, he then hurled himself into the room.
The young girl in the bed was screaming hysterically with the bed clothes pulled defensively up to her chin. She pointed wildly at the open window, the curtains flapping in the breeze. “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” She cried. “He went out of the window!”
Alfie ran to the window where he saw Vic Cassidy, still with no shoes on his feet and naked from the waist up, scrambling over the waste ground at the back of the house. Alfie hurriedly lifted the shotgun, took aim and emptied the other barrel but a sawn-off is not an accurate weapon for distance, especially at night and he only managed to clip him. Vic shouted with pain, snatched hold of the arm in which he had been hit and carried on running, his stride already hampered by his deformed foot.
“You’re fuckin’ dead, Cassidy!” Alfie shouted. “If you ever show your face this side of the water again, you’re a dead man – understand?” Whether or not Vic heard this, Alfie could not be certain, as he had already vanished into the night.
Continues tomorrow or download the complete novel here