dipped down to cross a stream about twenty feet further on. It had a bridge once, but it was no longer usable for bike traffic.
He had stopped, probably quickly, which wouldnât have helped him any as far as getting to his weapon. Not that heâd had a chance. Heâd taken an arrow to the neck and looked as if heâd choked to death.
The woman probably narrowly avoided plowing into him. They must have been on her right awayâprobably two on her, with the Leader standing back and Bunnytail working his machete magic on the older guy bringing up the rear. It had been a fast and efficient slaughter.
They quit laughing abruptly when they saw me. I shouldered the shotgun. Bunnytail turned around to see
what the big boys were looking at, mouth open, his hand still moving. Fat Boy either didnât hear me or was too close to the edge to care.
I took out the sidekick with the AR-15 at his feet. I didnât like shotguns but I respected them. In World War I, they called them trench brooms because of how well they swept a trench clean of anything living.
As I was racking back the slide I heard the boom of a .45 from my right. Max had taken out the Leader, his bow still at his side. That left the two in front of me. Bunnytail took my buckshot at crotch level. It wasnât pretty.
I felt someone coming up behind me. I really hoped it was Ninja because I wasnât turning around to take a look. He stood next to me. I noticed he was breathing a little hard. Night came up beside us, and together we stared for a minute at the carnage and the two survivors.
Max was moving toward us. He had moved to my right and into the brush without my hearing him. I could tell he was getting ready to say something. It was probably going to be along the lines of âWhat the hell you gawking at? Is this what I taught you to do?â He didnât get a chance.
I moved toward the woman. Keep in mind that everything happened in under a minute. Fat Boy was still on top of the woman, but was no longer pumping. He was also as much red as white. The red splotches, plus a few pieces of gristle, were from his buddy who had been waiting his turn.
I heard the woman moan. No, it was a keening sound. It was the sound a puppy would make if it got its nose jammed into a fan. It made me angry.
Fat Boy twisted around enough that he saw me coming. He looked ahead. The womanâs clothes and holster, including the gun, had been tossed into a pile about six feet away. Fat Boy was going to go for it. That made me happy. It was considerate of him to give me a clear shot. I didnât want to hurt the woman underneath him any more than she had already been hurt.
He didnât leap as much as slither over her body. I let him get about halfway across herâunfortunate for her, I suppose. Watching his hand reaching out like a drowning swimmer for the gun, I pretty much blew it off. It looked like some of it remainedânot enough for him to get his palm read, that was for sure. He rolled off her, got to his knees and then, to my surprise, to his feet.
âYou son of a bitch!â
I shrugged.
âOh, Jesus! Do something! Iâm hurt!â
I heard Ninja say, âNo shit.â
The woman continued to shriek from where she lay.
I cycled a new round and was getting ready to finish Fat Boy when Night zipped past me.
âGoddamn it, Night!â I yelled.
I started moving toward her and Fat Boy. My first thought was that she was going to help the woman before we were done with Fat Boy. He must have thought she was coming to help him. We were both wrong.
Her hand went to her belt and the fillet knife. Fat Boy had his arm up in the air. It sprayed bright red blood like a flabby white fountain. For some strange reason I found myself thinking of the Fourth of July. He had to be going into shock.
Night got to him, reached out, grabbed his now flaccid cock, and whipped her fillet blade across it. It looked like a clean
He had stopped, probably quickly, which wouldnât have helped him any as far as getting to his weapon. Not that heâd had a chance. Heâd taken an arrow to the neck and looked as if heâd choked to death.
The woman probably narrowly avoided plowing into him. They must have been on her right awayâprobably two on her, with the Leader standing back and Bunnytail working his machete magic on the older guy bringing up the rear. It had been a fast and efficient slaughter.
They quit laughing abruptly when they saw me. I shouldered the shotgun. Bunnytail turned around to see
what the big boys were looking at, mouth open, his hand still moving. Fat Boy either didnât hear me or was too close to the edge to care.
I took out the sidekick with the AR-15 at his feet. I didnât like shotguns but I respected them. In World War I, they called them trench brooms because of how well they swept a trench clean of anything living.
As I was racking back the slide I heard the boom of a .45 from my right. Max had taken out the Leader, his bow still at his side. That left the two in front of me. Bunnytail took my buckshot at crotch level. It wasnât pretty.
I felt someone coming up behind me. I really hoped it was Ninja because I wasnât turning around to take a look. He stood next to me. I noticed he was breathing a little hard. Night came up beside us, and together we stared for a minute at the carnage and the two survivors.
Max was moving toward us. He had moved to my right and into the brush without my hearing him. I could tell he was getting ready to say something. It was probably going to be along the lines of âWhat the hell you gawking at? Is this what I taught you to do?â He didnât get a chance.
I moved toward the woman. Keep in mind that everything happened in under a minute. Fat Boy was still on top of the woman, but was no longer pumping. He was also as much red as white. The red splotches, plus a few pieces of gristle, were from his buddy who had been waiting his turn.
I heard the woman moan. No, it was a keening sound. It was the sound a puppy would make if it got its nose jammed into a fan. It made me angry.
Fat Boy twisted around enough that he saw me coming. He looked ahead. The womanâs clothes and holster, including the gun, had been tossed into a pile about six feet away. Fat Boy was going to go for it. That made me happy. It was considerate of him to give me a clear shot. I didnât want to hurt the woman underneath him any more than she had already been hurt.
He didnât leap as much as slither over her body. I let him get about halfway across herâunfortunate for her, I suppose. Watching his hand reaching out like a drowning swimmer for the gun, I pretty much blew it off. It looked like some of it remainedânot enough for him to get his palm read, that was for sure. He rolled off her, got to his knees and then, to my surprise, to his feet.
âYou son of a bitch!â
I shrugged.
âOh, Jesus! Do something! Iâm hurt!â
I heard Ninja say, âNo shit.â
The woman continued to shriek from where she lay.
I cycled a new round and was getting ready to finish Fat Boy when Night zipped past me.
âGoddamn it, Night!â I yelled.
I started moving toward her and Fat Boy. My first thought was that she was going to help the woman before we were done with Fat Boy. He must have thought she was coming to help him. We were both wrong.
Her hand went to her belt and the fillet knife. Fat Boy had his arm up in the air. It sprayed bright red blood like a flabby white fountain. For some strange reason I found myself thinking of the Fourth of July. He had to be going into shock.
Night got to him, reached out, grabbed his now flaccid cock, and whipped her fillet blade across it. It looked like a clean
Similar Books
