Truth or Lies? by A. Gomez (books to get back into reading TXT) 📕

to me pee. I wondered if this was what a presidential candidate had to endure once he or she became president? If it was, I was glad to never have the desire to run.

He gave me the all clear and I walked in. I went into a stall and quickly took care of my business. I heard a few hoots and hollers outside the door while I was on the toilet. I snickered, thinking it was Conny reacting to the highlights on the TV. Once finished, I washed my hands in a hurry so I could get on the plane and call Josh before it got too late.

I could hear Samson barking his head off at something or someone. We were on a tarmac with a plane on one side and a building right behind it and planes and runways all around. Could a stray squirrel have gotten lost and somehow made it onto the tarmac and was now running around driving my dog nuts? I quickly dried my hands so I could go see what his problem was… and then I heard a thud. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Something wasn’t right. Samson’s barking was getting more agitated and aggressive sounding. Something was telling me to lock the door and call Ben. As I reached for the lock on the door it swung open and hit my knuckles hard. Agh! That hurt like the devil. I was dancing around in pain, holding my hand when I heard a low voice with a thick Chinese accent say my full name. It was a very short, yet very stocky Asian man standing in front of me, grinning evilly. I looked at him up and down to see if he had a weapon. He was carrying a Glock, very similar to mine, in a shoulder holster. Holy hell! Where was Conny? How did he get in here without anyone noticing?! He slowly started coming at me. I took a few steps back, adjusting my purse.

My purse! I screamed in my head. My gun was in my purse and this guy didn’t know it. How the hell was I going to get it out? I hit the wall with my back and was then trapped between the man and the wall. Think, Isabel, think! My heart was racing and my adrenaline pumping through my veins. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t find my voice. We locked eyes and I decided to let him come closer. I relaxed my body just enough, almost inviting him into my personal space. He froze; eyeing me from head to toe, suspecting I was about to do something. His expression was menacing and heinous. He was trying to read my body language. I opened my hands, exposed my palms and held my hands up in defeat to show him he’d won, letting him know I wouldn’t struggle or fight.

He grinned his evil grin again and grabbed my left arm, yelling something in Mandarin to whoever was there with him. Samson was going crazy. Why didn’t they just let him off his leash! The Asian man began to pull me to the door. This is it, Isabel Grace. It’s now or never, I told myself. I throat-punched him as hard as I could with my right hand. He let go of my arm, grabbing his throat with both hands, stumbling backwards. I grabbed his shoulders and kneed him in the groin. He fell to the ground. I sprinted for the main exit. His cohort was crouched down, hiding behind the sofa, hovering over Conny’s body. Oh no! Was Conny dead or just unconscious? He saw me coming and started to draw his gun. Thankfully, I had pulled mine out, took the safety off and shot two bullets into his shoulder. He discharged his weapon, hitting the TV and the ceiling, then falling to the floor. I jumped over him.

“Samson, balls!” I shouted as I flew out through the exit. Ben heard all the gunfire and took Sammy off his leash, sprinting in my direction right behind him. I scanned the area and thankfully everyone was already on board the plane.

A very strong hand got ahold of my hair and pulled me back, causing me to stumble backwards. He wrapped his arm around my waist, picking me up off the ground, took my pistol out of my hand and began to fire at Ben and Samson. For a very short man he was somehow able to lift my five-foot seven-inch frame off the ground and keep my feet from touching the ground. I struggled against his hold, trying to take my gun back, trying to prevent this evil man from firing at Ben or the plane. I then saw the bleeding Asian man I had just shot stumble out of the building. Samson got there just in time to assault his genitals and incapacitate him. He let out a blood-curdling scream and shot my dog. I gasped. Samson let out a yelp and bit down even harder on the man’s genitals, drawing blood this time. The man shot him again. This time Samson let go and fell to the ground.

“NOOO! SAMSON! FUCKING BASTARD!” The man was about to shoot him again when Ben fired his weapon and hit the man holding the gun in his hand.

I looked up at the plane and saw my father aiming his hunting rifle in our direction. I stopped struggling and yelled to my father, “SHOOT ‘EM DADDY! JUST SHOOT!”

“You shut up girl!” the stocky man yelled.

I could see my father adjusting his aim. My mother was beside him, her hands clenched together, terror etched on her face.

“DAMMNIT, DADDY! SHOOT!!”

“SHUT UP GIRL!” He dug the barrel of the gun against my temple, then aimed it at Ben.

Ben was yelling for Conny but Conny didn’t respond. Dear Lord, please let him be all right. I couldn’t check