Shooting Elvis: Confessions Of An Accidental Terrorist - Hardcover

Eversz, Robert

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0333661273 ISBN 13: 9780333661277

Publisher: Macmillan, 1996

Synopsis

Shooting Elvis is wild out-of-control thriller about a woman who is set up by her sexy no-good boyfriend. At first glance Mary was a good girl working as a photographers assistance. Her taste for rough trade in boyfriends ends up making her a fugitive from the law. As a result, More.her good-girl veneer cracks to release the angry violent law-breaker within.

About this title

About the Author:

Robert Eversz lived in Los Angeles for over a decade, studying at UCLA Film School, and working in Hollywood and on its fringes as a filmmaker and screenwriter. In 1992, he put his life into storage and moved to Prague to write Shooting Elvis, which has been translated into ten languages. Prague is the setting for his next book, Gypsy Hearts.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

From Chapter 22:

The Chevy smacked the car in the next lane, knocked it into oncoming traffic. I straightened out the bike, saw cars looked like blurs coming at me, everybody trying to get out of the way of the big stuff, a motorcycle like mine the best thing to hit if you've got to hit something. I closed my eyes, gave the bike full throttle, screamed through the panic weave of cars, came out the other side surprised.

Fleischer was hit, I knew I hit him, he was running fast, couldn't control the car at high speed. I didn't think about it, gripped the pistol in my left hand and swung the bike up the Chevy's right flank. The Chevy drifted side to side, I didn't know if Fleischer was trying to make himself harder to hit or if he was just loosing it. I crouched low over the bike, sighted the gun on the back of his head. The light ahead turned red, I never got the chance to pull the trigger, Fleischer was going for it. I jammed the gun into my pocket, went too. A truck pulled out from the right when the Chevy's wheel hit the crossing. Big, bright yellow, an eighteen-wheeler. The Chevy went left, I went right, but the son-of-the-bitch was going too fast to stop, I only had one choice. It was a kamikaze move, laying the bike down, no timing to it, just luck or death. I pushed away from the bike, took the pavement on the back of my leather jacket, slid under the carriage, saw those big wheels clamp down on Wrex's Harley, chew it to scrap. But the wheels didn't get me, I slid clear, came to a stop a couple feet the other side. It was all so fast and easy I thought I'd died, was dreaming it all up from the afterlife, thought maybe this is what happens in death, you don't feel a thing. I sat up, looked for my dead body, like you sometimes see in the movies when somebody dies. But there wasn't any dead part I could see, guessed that meant I was alive.

Lay a bike down in the middle of an intersection, you'd think somebody would get out of their car, see if you were okay, but everyone was looking across the street, a big commotion was happening at the corner gas station. Fleischer's Chevy had come up against the pumping island, sheared one of the pumps off at the base. Gasoline gushed from the pump, flowed in a fat arc toward the street, the gas shimmered in the twilight like a rainbow. The pot at the end was one of those asphalt heating machines, guys on the next building over were doing a roofing job, they started shouting everybody away. I saw what was about to happen sure as thunder follows lightning, jumped to my feet, ran toward the Chevy. A drop of hot asphalt dripped down, touched the gas, the gas lit like a fuse, a service station attendant saw me running, tackled me just when the whole thing went up in a fireball six stories high. Biggest noise I ever heard, made the bomb at the airport sound like a firecracker. Then came the sucking noise fire makes, some of the guys around started hooting and hollering, and I must admit, it was a pretty sight, if I wasn't seeing my whole future going up in flames I might have hooted too.

The service station attendant, he had a name patch on his shirt read Kim, he let me off the ground, said, "You crazy lady? You get yourself killed!"

I think tears were still streaming down my face from Ben. I said, "Something in the car I had to get."

Kim asked,"You knew the guy in that car?"

I nodded.

"Forget it, he's cooked, nobody could survive that."

I said, "Good."

About this edition

• Publisher: Macmillan
• Publication date: 1996
• ISBN 10: 0333661273
• ISBN 13: 9780333661277
• Binding: Hardcover
• Number of pages: 320