The Day the Clown Died by Nick Kolakowski

While the shootout paused so everybody could reload, Miller wondered whether the clown was still alive.

The clown had taken three shots to the chest and collapsed beside the Tilt-a-Whirl. Miller disliked the idea of civilian deaths, but at least he could tell himself it was the security guard’s fault. If the security guard had stayed on the floor of the money-counting room like a good little boy, and not decided to march after them like Wyatt Earp, the clown would still be spreading good cheer to the crowds of kids and parents. If the security guard had stayed on the floor, Miller’s partners might have waited to spring the ambush on him that he’d expected all along.

Two for Tea by Nick Kolakowski

Slade was six-foot-three of muscle sewn together with scar tissue, his jaw square and hard as a bulldozer shovel. His face was more deeply lined than an acre of Midwest hardpan but you would never mistake him for old or defective—not if you valued your bones unbroken, or at least your thumbs in working order. […]

How Jules Left Prison by Nick Kolakowski

The day they let Jules out of prison, two guards escorted him to meet the warden. The warden’s wood-paneled office was much bigger than the cell where Jules had spent the past five years of his life. The warden was a large man with a square jaw and skin tanned the color of mahogany. Jules […]