The Third Option

by LeRoy Bohrer

"The Third Option"

The door slowly opened, and as light flooded the room, the man and the woman sat up in bed. They gasped at the sight of the woman who stood in the doorway with a fourty-five caliber pistol trained on them. Four shots rang out, and the couple fell back on the bed as the door slowly closed.

Laura Potter learned aginst the bedroom door, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had come home unexpectedly from visiting her ailing mother. She had lied to her husband of four years about when she would be home because she suspected he was having an affair. She knew her suspicions were well founded when she saw the blue PT Cruiser parked beside the curb. She had quietly entered the house, and had gone to the kitchen where her husband kept the fouty-five in the cabinet.

She dropped the pistol on the floor and staggered through the darkened house. She went to the window and glanced up and down the street to see if anybody was checking on where the shots had come from, but everything was the same as if was when she arrived at the house a half hour earlier.

She switched the light on in the living room and flopped down on the sofa. She glanced up at the wedding photos of her and her late husband which hung on the mantle above the fireplace. It hadn't been more than a months since they had talked about starting a family. Laura, a lawyer, had stated that she was ready, but that would never happen. She was a murderess. She had destroyed her life.

Laura Potter was a woman of thirty of medium height with shoulder length dark hair, an olice complexion, dark eyes, high cheekbones and a jutting chin. She wished she hadn't lied to her husband about when she would return home.

What was she to do now? She knew as a trial lawyer, it would be fruitless to try and dispose of the bodies. She had two options. She could either turn herself into the police, or she could run. If she ran, she knew she it would be only a matter of time before she was caught.

She stood up on rubbery legs, her head throbbing. She decided she would drive to the police station and turn herself in. She switched the light off and walked out the door into the warm moonlite summer night and climbed in her red Bronco.

She drove down the nearly deserted streets and entered the police stations parking lot. She sat there for a half hour staring blankly at the two story red brick station house. Finally, she started the engine, deciding she wasn't ready to go inside. The bodies wouldn't be discovered for at least a day, and that would give her time to explore a third option. She drove around aimlessly for time until she found herself on the interstate where she steadily increased speed.

Glancing down at the speedometer, she saw she was going eighty miles an hour. Behind her were the flashing lights and the errie wail of a troopers siren. She considered stopping and telling the trooper what she had done, but a third option popped into her head, and her speed increased toward the rear of a freighliner.

"God forgive me for what I have done and am about to do," she screamed.

As the Bronco plowed into the rear of the freighliner, it's top was sheared off and sparks and fire shot out from under the truck as it weaved back and forth across the highway until it finally came to a stop.

The End.

A 700 Word Story.

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