“Okay, fine,” said Sondra. “It will be more fun this way. I’ll shoot you in the other arm…then each leg. I’ll just keep pumping bullets into your body until I run out. Then I’ll give you a push.” She jammed the muzzle into his left triceps.

At any moment Sondra’s bullet would come, with bone-shattering certainty. Then on to his legs. No! Greg was not going to just stand there while she turned him into a bloody Raggedy Ann, and then tossed him into the river. But she had a gun. He had nothing. And he was on the outside of the guardrail. No more time to think about it. Must act now!

“Sondra?”

She turned around and saw E. Z. standing near the back of the Bonneville. “What are you doing here? This is none of your business. And how did you get up here?” She heard something and spun around.

But Cynthia was right behind her. She grabbed Sondra’s right wrist and forced it, and the pistol, upward.

The gun discharged into the sky.

Greg started to climb over the guardrail.

Sondra turned sharply and pulled the pistol down, along with Cynthia’s hands. Now the gun was pointed in Greg direction.

He put his foot back down and moved along the outside of the railing, trying to get out of the line of fire.

E. Z. joined Cynthia, latching onto Sondra’s arm. They pushed her toward the guardrail, with the same idea—to slam Sondra’s hand down on the top of the railing repeatedly until she dropped the gun.

Greg moved away from them and climbed over the guardrail.

Sondra tried kicking and elbowing Cynthia and E. Z. to get them off of her. But they were relentless. They whacked her fingers against the unforgiving cold steel of the railing over and over. On the seventh time the pistol fired, but hit nothing. On the tenth, she dropped the gun, and it fell down into the darkness.

Cynthia and E. Z. stepped away from Sondra.

Greg rushed to Cynthia and hugged her.

“Do you have your cell phone?” he said.

“Here come Angie and Edsel,” said E. Z.

“I’m sure they’ve already called the police,” said Cynthia.

“That’s good,” said Sondra. “Now Greg will go to prison where he belongs.”

“What?” said Cynthia.

“Oh, that’s right,” said Sondra. “Greg probably hasn’t had a chance to tell you yet. Go ahead, Greg, tell her how you murdered Boomer.”

“What are you talking about, Sondra?” said E. Z.

“It’s true. Greg followed her to her motel room and raped her. Then he slit her throat. He told me all about it.”

“You’re the one who murdered her,” said Greg. “And then you set me up.”

“Oh, that sounds quite plausible. I’m sure the police will believe every word of it. That is, if they can get past the fact that your sweaty DNA is all over her naked body. But at least you wore a condom.”

“What’s she talking about, Greg?” Cynthia’s faith in Greg was strong, but she was confused, to say the least. She wanted to wipe the smirk off Sondra’s face. Maybe a hard punch in the teeth would do it. “You’re a liar.”

Sondra laughed. “That’s why I’ll never go to jail.” She climbed up on the guardrail and stood on top of it. A strong gust of wind would have swept her into the air and down into the Neches River. But she showed no concern. “I’m just too smart for the police.” She began to walk along the top of the railing as though it were a tightrope.

“We know you killed your mother,” said E. Z.

“I did not!” Sondra twisted and her shoes slipped. She fell off the guardrail, and was unable to catch it on the way down. But she did manage to grab hold of the structure below.

Greg, Cynthia and E. Z. ran to the guardrail.

Sondra’s feet were dangling as she held on with both hands. “Help me, please!”

Without thinking, Greg climbed over the railing.

“Greg, no!” said Cynthia.

“I have to.” He couldn’t just stand by and let Sondra fall to her death—even if she was a murderer.

Angie and Edsel got out of the Tahoe and ran to join Cynthia and E. Z. They all looked on helplessly as Greg climbed down to Sondra.

He held on with his left hand while extending his right down to her. “Grab onto my hand.”

Sondra clamped onto Greg’s wrist with one hand, then the other.

Greg wasn’t sure he could pull her up. But he’d heard stories of people gaining super-human strength in cases like this. He prayed it would kick in.

Sondra looked up at him. She seemed scared at first. Then her face contorted into the most evil grin Greg had ever seen. “Come with me, Greg. It’ll be such a rush.”

A chill swept over him. It was as if Sondra’s body had been taken over by Satan himself. He no longer cared whether she lived or died. But she was the one holding on.

“You can’t imagine how fantastic it’s going to feel, Greg. Think of your best orgasm. Now multiply it by a thousand.”

“Greg, let her go!” yelled Cynthia.

“I’m trying to!”

Sondra began swinging her legs forward and backward while laughing hysterically. “Let’s have an accident together, Greg. You know you want to.”

His arm was burning and going numb at the same time. The blood oozing from the bullet wound had soaked his shirt sleeve and was beginning to run down his arm.

Sondra began to lose her grip as the blood flowed down onto her hands and between her fingers. Finally, she clung to the knot at the end of the rope—Greg’s hand. As the inevitable sunk in, she looked up into Greg’s eyes.

Greg could see that Satan was gone now. The grin had disappeared—replaced by sheer terror. But she didn’t scream. She just continued to look up at Greg as her body was sucked down into the abyss.

**********

Cynthia checked the clock on the emergency waiting room wall. It was nearly 2:00 AM. “How bad do you have to be hurt for them to see you right away?”

Paramedics rushed in pushing a gurney, and went directly into the emergency room. The woman was screaming at the top of her lungs.

“That bad, I guess,” said Greg, pressing a towel against his bloody arm.

Edsel and Angie walked up. “We had a little talk with the police,” said Angie. “You can wait until tomorrow to give your statement.” They sat down in the corner next to E. Z.

“Good. Thanks,” said Cynthia. On their drive to the hospital, Greg had explained what happened with Boomer.

“Tomorrow? It’s already tomorrow. But I guess I should just be glad I’m still around for it. Thanks guys, for coming to rescue me.”

“You’re welcome,” said E. Z.

“What I don’t understand,” said Greg “is how you and Cynthia popped up all of the sudden and surprised Sondra. How did you do that?”

“Yeah, that was a good plan.” Cynthia smiled and gave E. Z. a high five. “You tell him. It was your idea.”

“Okay. Here’s what we did: While Edsel was talking to Sondra from the car, Cynthia and I slipped out the door on the other side. Then we got down real low and sneaked up to the side of your car.”

“Then Angie just drove around you and went down the bridge,” said Greg.

“Right,” said Cynthia.

“It scared me to death,” said Angie. “But somebody had to do something.” She paused and reached over to take E. Z.’s hand. “But, I still don’t understand why you went to Edsel’s hospital room this afternoon.”

“You really don’t know who I am?” said E. Z.

Angie was puzzled. “Should I?”

“I moved here to Orange so I could meet you.”

“Why did you want to meet me?”

“I grew up in a little town west of Fort Worth. But when I turned sixteen I started searching for you. Because that’s when they told me.”

Angie felt a lump in her throat.

“I’m your daughter.”

Angie started crying.

Edsel put his arm around her as he spoke to E. Z. with a gentle firmness. “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. Angie doesn’t have any children.”

E. Z. placed her hand on Angie’s shoulder. “You never told him?”

“Don’t,” said Edsel. “You’re making her cry.”

“It’s okay,” said Angie. “It’s true.” When the nurse that afternoon had assumed that the young lady who visited Edsel’s room was Angie’s daughter because she looked just like her, Angie had brushed it aside. How could it have been? She knew she had a daughter somewhere out there in the world, but what were the chances that she’d ever come to Orange, Texas?

“What?” said Edsel.

Greg and Cynthia watched in amazement.

“And I think,” said E. Z., looking at Edsel, “that you’re my father.”

“What? That’s crazy.”

“She’s right,” said Angie.

“That’s impossible,” said Edsel.

“No, it’s not,” said Angie. “Remember that one time when I was a senior in high school.”

“Yeah, but—“

“—well, I got pregnant.”

“No, you didn’t. I was there—remember. Until your dad broke us up right after your graduation and sent you off to—.”

“—to have the baby.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? How could you keep this from me?”

This was what Angie had dreaded. Now there would be no wedding. Edsel would never forgive her for keeping the secret all these years. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

“So, it wasn’t that you didn’t want me,” said E. Z.

“No, not at all. My dad thought he was doing the right thing. I was only 18. I wanted to keep you so badly. And I wanted to tell Edsel about you.”

“You should have,” said Edsel.

“I know.”

“So…I’m really her father?”

Angie could see it in his eyes. He wanted it to be true. “Yes.”

He stood up. “I want to hug my daughter.” Tears began to drip down his face.

E.Z. got up and hugged him gently. “I don’t want to hurt your ribs.”

“It’s okay. Right now I’m feeling no pain.”

Angie stood and joined the hug. “Have you had a good life? What are your parents like?”

“They’re wonderful. I was so lucky. I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

“Well,” said Edsel, “I guess now we’ll have to get married.”

“Huh?” said Angie.

“You know—now that we have a kid.”

They all smiled and hugged tighter.

“Okay,” said Edsel, “not quite that tight.”

“Will you be my maid of honor?”

E. Z. smiled. “I’d love to.”

Angie kissed her on the cheek.

Greg looked at his wife. “Wow. That’s amazing. Did you have any idea?”

“No,” said Cynthia. “Of course, all I could think about this whole time was you.”

Greg kissed her on the lips. “Thank you, Sweetie.” He glanced over at the happy threesome again. “It’s like she’s a baby, and they’re just seeing her for the very first time.”

“Yeah,” said Cynthia. “Wouldn’t that feel great?”

“What?”

“To have a baby.”

“Well, sure. You know I—.” He studied her face. “Are you saying—“

“—yes. I think I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, Honey.” He hugged her. Over her shoulder he saw Angie, Edsel, and E. Z. still embracing. He was so happy for them. But at the same time he was thankful that he would meet his baby while it was still…a baby.

**********

Greg and Cynthia attended Edsel and Angie’s wedding. It was small, but beautiful. Herman Mayberly apologized to Edsel, Angie, and E. Z. for what he had put them through.

Slowly but surely, Greg made peace with his dad. Ralph had missed Greg and Cynthia’s wedding, but he and Norma drove to Coreyville for the birth of their grandson. Edsel, Angie and E. Z. came too. Greg had wanted to name his firstborn ‘Edsel,’ but he and Cynthia had compromised with ‘Edward.’

Little Edward would be raised in the new tradition of the Tenorly family. Along with love, hope, and faith, his parents would teach him the value of a positive attitude. They would tell him to always fight for what is right. Never give up and never give in. Be your own man and do your own thing to the best of your ability. In the words of Uncle Edsel: FLY THE RAIN.

THE END

E. Z. pulled over to the side of the road.

Cynthia scanned the area. “I don’t see Greg’s car.”

“Good.”

“But where is he?”

An ambulance drove past them and pulled into Valerie Crench’s driveway.

“Wonder why they don’t have their lights flashing?”

Cynthia looked at her. “Because whoever they came for is already dead.”

They watched as the body was carried out of the house and loaded into the ambulance.

“Maybe it’s Sondra’s mother,” said E. Z. “Because I don’t see Sondra’s car.”

“Greg must be following her. I just wish we had some idea where they went.”

“The hospital?”

Cynthia perked up, then became frantic. “I hope we’re not too late.”

E. Z. turned around in a neighbor’s driveway and headed for the hospital.

**********

Greg was tempted to run the light. This was an emergency. He needed to get to Sondra’s house before she got away. Although, he was only guessing she had gone there to pack up and get out of town. She probably figured that right about now Greg was being handcuffed and thrown into a police car.

The traffic signal finally turned green. Just as his foot touched the accelerator, a car blew through the light, barely missing his front bumper. He hit the brakes.

Wasn’t that Sondra’s car? He wasn’t sure, but he turned right and followed it anyway. If it was Sondra, had she recognized his car? Did she even know what kind of car he drove? At the motel he had parked it well away from Boomer’s room.

Greg was determined to catch her. His fingerprints and DNA were all over that motel room. All over Boomer. Normally he had confidence in the legal process. But now that his freedom was on the line, could he really trust that the police would believe his story? If he wasn’t guilty then why did he flee the scene of the crime?

**********

Cynthia flipped on the light. “Are y’all okay?”

Angie jerked awake. “What?”

Edsel’s eyes sprung open and he sat up in bed. He winced at the sharp pain in his chest and held his breath.

“I’m sorry,” said Cynthia. “But we were afraid Edsel might be in danger.”

Angie and Edsel both stared at E. Z.

“No, it’s not her,” said Cynthia. “Sondra’s the one who tried to kill you.”

“That makes a lot more sense,” said Edsel.

Angie looked at E. Z. “But why were you here this afternoon?”

“Well, I…”

Cynthia’s cell phone began to ring. It wasn’t Greg’s ringtone. She flipped it open. “Hello?”

“Cynthia, my phone died. I’m calling from a pay phone. I don’t have much time, so I’ve got to talk fast.”

“Greg,—”

“—I’m following Sondra. She’s trying to get away.”

“Where are you, Honey? I’ll call the police.”

No answer.

“Greg?”

The line went dead.

“Greg’s following Sondra. She’s on the run. But I don’t know where they are. We got cut off.”

“Houston,” said E. Z. “I’ll bet she’s headed back to Houston. It’s the only place she’s every lived besides Orange.”

“We’ve got to follow them,” said Cynthia.

“She probably took Highway 87,” said E. Z. “That’s the quickest way out of town from her mother’s house. But once she gets to Port Arthur it’ll be trickier. There are three major roads from there to Beaumont. Or she might take 73 and bypass Beaumont altogether.”

“We’d better hurry,” said Cynthia.

“Whoa, wait a minute,” said Edsel, gritting his teeth against the pain. “You’re not going without me. That boy’s like a son to me.” He managed to stand up.

Angie jumped up and ran to him. “What are you doing? You can’t go anywhere. Get back in that bed.”

“Where are my clothes?” He walked gingerly toward the closet.

“Edsel, don’t be ridiculous,” said Angie, grabbing his arm.

“I’m going,” insisted Edsel.

Angie looked at the other two women. Cynthia shrugged.

“We’ll all go,” said Angie. “We can take my car.”

Edsel turned to her and was about to speak.

She shook her finger at him. “Don’t you even think about it. I’m driving.”

**********

“Good boy,” said Sondra, easing the pressure of the muzzle against Greg’s back. “Where are your car keys?”

“I left them in the ignition.”

“Well, that was foolish. Somebody could have stolen your car while you were out her playing around on the phone.”

He said nothing.

“Now listen carefully. You will walk to the car, open the door, get in and move over to the passenger seat. And you will keep your mouth shut. Understood?”

“Yes.”

Once Greg was in the passenger seat, Sondra got in and started up the engine. She held the pistol in her left hand as she steered with her right.

What was she going to do with him? Take him to some dark road and shoot him? Surely she didn’t honestly believe she could get away with that. She’d end up on death row. Didn’t she realize that? Didn’t that scare her? He studied her face. What was he thinking? She hadn’t hesitated to murder a member of her own band. Why would she think twice about killing him?

She drove out of Bridge City toward the Rainbow Bridge. The 680-foot wide bridge was built in 1936, and is still the tallest bridge in Texas, at a height of 177 feet.

As she drove onto the bridge, Greg had a terrible thought. What if she planned to—.

“—you know what I’ve always wanted to see, Greg?”

Was it a trick? She had instructed him not to speak. If he answered the question would she blow his face off?

She went on. “I’ve always wanted to watch somebody dive off the top of this bridge. Ever since I was a kid I’ve pictured it.”

This is not good, thought Greg. He wished he had tried to make a run for it at the convenience store. There would be no place to run and hide now that they were on the bridge.

“Yeah, I’ve always thought that would be so cool—the screaming…the arms flailing…the hopeless plunge to a certain death. And fortunately, there’s not much traffic on this bridge at 1:00 AM.”

He knew she was right. His only hope was for a state trooper to happen by. It was a narrow, two-lane bridge. Parking was obviously not allowed. She could tell the officer that they had engine problems. But he’d probably want her to coast down the bridge. And once he stopped to talk to her, Greg would hint that he was being held against his will. But then Sondra would shoot the trooper at point blank range.

Sondra parked at the top of the bridge. “Get out.”

She walked him to the guardrail, motioning with the gun. “Over you go.”

Greg saw a car approaching the bridge from the Port Arthur side.

Sondra saw it too. “Come over here and be looking at this tire.” She pointed to the front passenger side. “I’ll tell them we have a flat. If you say anything, or try to give them a sign,” she said poking him in the ribs with the pistol, “you’re a dead man.”

**********

Angie’s silver Tahoe zipped through Bridge City.

“You’re gonna get a ticket, Angie,” said Edsel.

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re going twenty miles over the speed limit.”

“Well, I may get a ticket. But they’ll have to catch me first. I’m not stopping until I find Greg.”

Edsel smiled. If he’d been driving he would have done the same thing.

Cynthia and E. Z. glanced at each other. Cynthia was worried sick about Greg, and it showed. E. Z. reached over and patted her hand.

Once they cleared Bridge City, they could see the lighted arch up ahead, two-miles away. Angie floored the accelerator. Soon they were traveling at 100 mph.

**********

“Thanks, but there’s really nothing you can do. The rim is bent.” said Sondra. “We’ve got a tow truck on the way.”

The pickup drove off.

“Nice job, Greg.” said Sondra. “He didn’t suspect a thing.” She took a breath. “Okay, now—where were we? Oh, yeah. You were about to jump off the bridge.”

“Here comes another car,” said Greg.

This one was coming from the Bridge City side.

Sondra was surprised at how fast the headlights were approaching. “They’re going way too fast.”

“Probably drunk,” said Greg.

But as the vehicle got closer it slowed down and pulled in behind Greg’s car. A man shouted from the front passenger’s window, “Don’t do anything crazy, Sondra.”

Sondra recognized him. It was Edsel Torkman. “I’ve got a gun.” Sondra walked Greg backwards until they were up against the guardrail. She wrapped one arm around Greg and held the pistol to his head. “And if you don’t leave right now, I’m gonna blow his brains out.”

“I know you’re the one who dropped the car on my chest,” said Edsel. “But I’m okay. So, don’t make matters worse by hurting my nephew.”

“You’ve got five seconds to get out of here!”

Angie backed up the Tahoe and slowly drove around the Bonneville.

Greg could see that Angie was driving, but he couldn’t tell if Cynthia was in the car. The back windows were tinted dark.

As they headed down the bridge, Edsel shouted, “Fly the rain, Greg. Fly the rain!”

Sondra looked at Greg. “Fly the rain? What does that mean?”

Before he could respond, she went on. “In a few seconds you’re gonna wish you could fly.” She laughed. “Okay. I’m tired of playing around. Climb over the rail!”

Greg stepped up to the guardrail and then looked back at her. “You don’t really want to do this, Sondra.”

When he heard the loud boom, he thought Sondra had shot him. Then he thought she had missed—until his right arm began to sting. “Okay!” He climbed over to the back side of the railing and held on. What did Uncle Ed mean when he yelled ‘fly the rain?’ Do they have a plan to rescue me? Was it some kind of clue?

Sondra stepped in closer. His body would disappear into the darkness long before it hit the water. But she wanted to see all there was to see. There would be no instant replay. If she blinked, she’d miss half of it. She wondered if she’d be able to hear the splash. His chances of survival were less than 1%. “Okay,” she said. “Do it!”