“You’ll never take me alive,” shouted Rocco through the open window. Among glass shards and spent casings, he lay on the warehouse floor. His head below the sill, he pointed his gun in the direction of the police and fired a few rounds. “I told you, I’m not coming,” he sneered as the smoke began to clear.
“THROW DOWN YOUR ARMS, ROCCO.” That was the Chief, talking through his bullhorn while commanding the SWAT team. From behind an armored vehicle, he had a view to the warehouse riddled with bullet holes. The standoff with Rocco had done nothing to help its commercial value.
“COME OUT.”
“No way.”
“YOU’RE SURROUNDED, ROCCO. MAKE IT EASY ON YOURSELF.”
“I’m not coming. I told you, no one’s taking me alive.”
The Chief reflexively ducked as Rocco fired a few more shots. He waited a minute before talking.
“ALIVE? WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT THAT?”
“What’d you mean?” shouted Rocco, keeping his head low.
“ABOUT ALIVE?”
“Huh?”
“WE’RE EASY. JUST COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP, AND I’LL PERSONALLY TAKE CARE OF THE ALIVE PROBLEM.”
David Sydney is a physician who writes fiction in and out of the EHR (Electronic Health Record).