The Purple Haze by Gary Richardson Page B

succession, accompanied by flashing lights. The torsos of the dead man and woman ripped open with several gunshots, a mixture of blood and a pinkish puss spilling from the open holes and spraying the wall behind them as the bullets exited through their backs. They staggered back and fell over. The sound ceased for a second, then started again, this time it was Conner who buckled behind the bullets, one of them hitting him on the right hand side of his forehead, throwing his head back as a perfect line of blood squirted from the open wound. James turned to see Mike, the man who had previously been so against just holding a gun, let alone fire one, now standing there looking down the sights of it, the barrel smoking. Mike lowered the gun and looked at James. James nodded in appreciation.
    The group stood there looking in disbelief at the three corpses and the mess of blood, puss and entrails plastered to the wall. Mike stepped closer to James and helped him up.
    “ Are you okay?” he asked.
    “ Yeah, thanks for that,” said James, “I don't know what happened, I just froze up,” he quietly added.
    “ It's okay, don't worry about it.” Mike turned around and looked at the group. Colin stood watching from behind the counters. Martin and Gaz stood side by side, their hands still shackled behind their backs. Yvonne was standing with tears in her eyes, Craig comforting her with an arm around her shoulders. Mike stepped back to Dave and continued applying pressure to the wound on his leg.
    James went to step forward but was stopped by another moan. He looked back to see the source of the noise and shone his torch into the faces of the man and woman, now sat up and staring at them again. “How is this possible?” James thought. He looked at them, all bloodied and disfigured. They should have been dead. They each had around five bullets in their centre masses. James wasn't hesitating any more. He pointed his gun and fired from the hip. He held the trigger and sprayed bullets at the corpses, a few hitting them in the chest. The bodies buckled as the bullets entered their bodies and exited out the back, but their faces weren't really reacting to what was happening to them. James stopped firing to see that their faces hadn't changed. They showed no signs of pain or anger. They just kept staring with those dead eyes, then moaned again and began struggling to get up. James looked at Conner who wasn't moving any more. He noticed the bullet hole in his head then felt a power take hold of him. Almost acting on instinct now, his fear either gone or momentarily forgotten, he stepped over to them and kicked the woman hard in the side of her head. As his steel toe capped boots met her temple, he felt her skull give way. His foot punched a huge dent in her head, and she landed in a heap on the floor, no longer moaning or moving. He stood in front of the man, pointed the gun barrel at his face and pulled the trigger. Three rounds fired in a burst that caused the man’s head to explode, spraying James' flak jacket with a putrid mix of blood, skull and mashed up brains. The body fell back and remained still. James stood on the spot breathing heavily. He watched for a moment, but neither one of them moved again. They weren't getting up after that.
    James turned to the rest of the group who were looking at him as though looking at a raged beast. Yvonne was being held by Craig, sobbing into his chest, Gaz and Martin looked at him as though afraid of him. Mike was still holding his jacket against Dave's leg, who himself was looking like he was in agony, and all the gun fire and screaming wasn't going to take his mind off that fact. James didn't know what to say, so he just bowed his head and walked past the group. He stopped at the counter. Colin stepped over to him from behind it.
    “ It's okay you know, you had to do it,” he said to James.
    James looked at him with a stern look. “Don't talk to me,” he said, and walked away from