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Potshot
(1997)
Fast-talking Bobby Mullaney says marijuana should be legal. From his hideaway in the woods of Florence, Maine, he leads a group of old hippies who envision a better world through cannabis. But is Bobby what he appears to be? McMorrow finds out the hard way, as he asks too many questions about Bobby, his wife, Melanie, their gun-toting son Stephen, and an outlaw named Coyote, who would like to see McMorrow dead. The trail leads McMorrow and his ex-Marine buddy Clair from the wilds of Maine to wasted mill cities in Massachusetts. It was a dead end, like a court with houses on all sides, the bck of a brick building straight ahead, nobody around. Clair drove into a driveway behind a car and jumped out, saying, "Lock the hubs." I jumped out too and turned the dial on the front wheel on my side, locking the wheel fo four-wheel drive. We scrambled back in and Clair ground the gears into reverse and roared back out. We ended up facing the open end of the street. We sat. Waited. And then the Toyota started to go by the street, skidded to a stop and backed up. The car turned into the court. It accelerated and then slide to a halt, facing us, fifteen feet away. I could see the guys smiling and then both doors popped open. The kid had a handgun. The driver, older, had a handgun too. They had their hoods up and they trotted toward us, guns down by their thighs. Clair tromped on the gas and the truck roared forward. The older guy stopped and turned, as if to get his car out of the way, but it was too late and the truck hit the Toyota head on, the steel plow frame crumpling the car with a sound like balling-up paper. The two guys were still in the back and I could see them covering their faces with their arms. The kid was behind us somewhere and I heard a shot, then another. . . |
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