Making Them Count

There was a shattering explosion and we knew that there was nothing we could do. Panicking did nothing. There was going to be nothing but pain soon. The three of us, were about to go down.

I wanted to react, I wanted to do more than panic. I wanted it to be over quickly. I had the means of making it happen too. They were going to be coming in from all sides. I knew I had no time, the room was no longer a room, it was a war zone. There was no exit or cover, they were going to come in, and try to arrest me. I wasn't about to let them. I was about to let them shoot me.

They were looking for a reason, I was going to give them one.

I had a gun. I'm not much of a gun guy. Never respected them much. Never though too much about them. I'd fired this one a couple of times in a back alley. Taking care of some business. It was a six shooter. It had a hell of a kick.

I took it out while I was diving down from the explosion. All panic left my body, all I could do was aim. The first cop came in, I fired and he went flying back. Into a couple of his buddies. They were trying to sound serious. But I could tell they were excited. Who wasn't? I guess Kelly. Kelly was crying with his hands up behind is head. On his knees. In the way. A cop was approaching him.

I didn't want any of us to last. I shot Kelly in the head and the bullet passed right through into the cops groin.

Longest thirty seconds of my life. I had no idea how I was still alive. Four shots left. Making them count was all that mattered.

Sharon was screaming at the top of her lungs, and a cop was dragging her by the hair, her feet were fighting. A loud crack came from my hand and the flailing feet stopped moving. Another crack and the cop didn't have a hand to hold her corpse with anymore. His scream was worse than hers.

Two shots left.

I was never a violent man. The sight of all the blood was starting to hit. I had no idea how I was still alive. Clearly people were shooting at me. How was I not down?

I tried to get up. I couldn't. I looked down. Most of the blood I think I was seeing was pretty clearly mine.

Good. They got me.

They were staying back. The cop with no hand was moaning. So I shot him.

One shot left.

There was that fucking stupid ceramic pig that Sharon had bought for me. That fucking piggy bank that I had to pretend to like but hated. The cops were clearly waiting for me to bleed out or something. Somehow that fucking pig had survived all the chaos. I wasn't about to go out knowing it was still there. The fucking eye sore.

Empty.














*Author's Note - A less violent prequel will come up at some point. Hope you enjoyed this though.*