Finishing The Job

by Harley Fox

  A shot fires. The back of the man’s head explodes and he drops down to the floor, dead. I throw myself towards a corner of the room as, a second later, the air fills with the sound of gunshots, machine gun fire, and the screams of dying men.

  No one in the room can get their guns out fast enough. Windows shatter, bullets whizzing in through the air, making the plaster explode out in plumes of dust, raining debris down on my head. When no one is standing any longer I start shouting.

  “Okay! Okay! It’s done! Stop! Okay!”

  Eventually the gunfire slows to a stop. The room is hazy with dust and smoke. Ringing silence has replaced the sounds of bullets and death. Some footsteps, crunching glass, and my men walk into the place as I lift myself back up to standing.

  “Christ,” says Alfie, looking around. “This is their hideout? Talk about lack of imagination.”

  He’s holding a machine gun. Douglas and Walt each have handguns, but I know they’re packing more. Just then there’s a low cough, and all three of my men swing their guns around to the source of the sound. But I raise a hand, seeing where they’re pointing.

  “Hold it,” I say. I walk over, my feet crunching, until I reach Antonio. He’s bloody, his suit jacket torn up and full of holes. But he’s still alive. He looks up at me, his face marred with white powder, his teeth stained with blood.

  “You,” he coughs some more, “you piece of shit.”

  “Ah, Antonio,” I say, shaking my head. “You should have done your research first.”

  I reach an open hand to Douglas who hands me something heavy and metal. A revolver. Reaching into my breast pocket I pull out a silver bullet.

  “If you had,” I flick open the chamber, “you would have learned about my friends here.” The bullet goes in, I spin the chamber to the right spot, close it. “A little group I formed when I was fifteen. A gang, I guess you’d call us. Is that what you’d call us, Walt?”

  “Yeah, I’d say so,” he agrees. His eyes are on Antonio too. We’re all looking down at him. Antonio stares up at as, his expression a mix of anger and fear.

  “The Bullets, we call ourselves. You see, that’s how I made all that capital I was talking about. And I’m going to make a lot more, here in Santa Espera. This town has potential. It can grow. It can become something great.” I aim the gun down at Antonio’s face. He doesn’t flinch. He keeps struggling for breath, but he doesn’t flinch. “But not with shit stains like you, robbing everybody before they have a chance to actually make something of themselves.” My thumb cocks back the hammer. “Things are going to be different around here. When you get to hell, tell them the Silver Bullet sent you.”

  BANG!

  Jake

  Time seems to have slowed down.

  I feel and hear bullets whizzing by as I fly towards Will Silver. Glass slowly shatters on the ground. People’s voices sound a thousand miles away as they yell, scream, cry out for death.

  Merryn is down on the ground, at Will Silver’s feet. Her body is curled around the baby inside of her, protecting it, protecting them. My gun is in my hand and I lift it, baring my teeth, aiming the instrument of death at Will. My muscles feel like they’re moving through air as thick as mud.

  But Will’s gun is moving too. I see the black circle that is the barrel of his gun as he brings it around to me. My instinct to survive takes over. I move my shoulder back. Fire issues out of the end of his gun, the bullet following, slow and fast at the same time. Keep moving. Keep moving! I only just feel it burn a line through the arm of my jacket, destroying the leather but not the skin or flesh or bone underneath it.

  My body’s still moving. It’s hard to aim. I see Will’s eyes widen as I bring my gun around, but then another force starts to pull at me. Like a magnet, drawing me closer to the concrete floor. Gravity. I forgot about that.

  I can feel my mouth opening up in surprise as I’m drawn down, down, and then thud! my elbow hits the unforgiving floor and pain echoes up through my nerves, hitting my shoulder, almost making me drop my gun.

  Almost.

  I bring it back up, just as Will brings his down. I can see the open barrel of his muzzle just as he can see mine. And then he does something I didn’t expect. Something that makes my heart leap into my throat. He drops his body down and drapes it across Merryn. This is about the point where time starts picking back up again.

  Will’s free hand lifts up, his mouth shouting out words.

  “Stop! Stop it! Cease fire!”

  He’s still pointing his gun at me, I’m still pointing my gun at him. Except mine is a little higher now. Away from Merryn. More bullets fly around, and now I start yelling too.

  “Stop shooting! Stop shooting, everyone!”

  Our voices combine into a cacophony that’s eventually heard, as the firing slows down to a stop and all that’s left is the sound of Merryn’s now-muffled moans and sobs, the heavy breathing of those around us. There’s no sound coming from behind the pile of debris, where Emily is.

  “Well,” Will Silver finally says. “Looks like we have us here a little stand-off.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I see Trista raise her gun to aim it and I lift my free hand, just as Will did.

  “No!” I shout. “Don’t! Don’t shoot him, you could hit Merryn!”

  She hesitates. Doesn’t take the shot. Will smiles at me.

  “A Bullet taking orders from a Chain,” he says. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “I’m not a Bullet!” Trista shouts at him. Her gun is still leveled.

  “That’s right, you were outcast. I forgot,” he says. His eyes are still on me. His smile is still wide. “But there are real Bullets here, aren’t there? Kendal, I’m sure I saw your pretty face. And Tyrone. But I didn’t get a good look at the other one. Who else is here?”

  A pause, and then a small voice, thick with emotion. “A-Alyssa.”

  “Oh, you’re not crying, are you?” Will asks. “Well I mean, it’s not like you don’t have a reason. You let all of these other gangs into your warehouse. Why is that? Why did you let that happen?”

  “Because we don’t have anything else!” Kendal’s voice. “The Bullets fell apart, Will. Ever since you let that cunt into our gang!”

  I see her arm fly up and point in Trista’s direction. Trista doesn’t respond, doesn’t take her gun off of Will.

  “But you’re not fighting,” Will responds, in a voice as calm as if he were discussing the weather. “Instead you’re just sitting there, drunk, taking it all and not fighting back. Hell, even the Slingers are fighting better than you. And you always said they were shit.”

  “What?” The voice of Beaner, followed by the sound of metal moving. Scurrying footsteps as Tyrone’s voice warns, “Watch where you’re pointing that thing, man.”

  “And the Chains?” Will goes on. “I mean, here you all are — or a couple of you, at least. Here’s your chance to get your revenge on the Bullets who broke your truce. There are three of them here right now. I saw the guns you have. What are you waiting for?”

  An awkward silence, and then somebody starts crying.

  “I’m sorry!” Alyssa’s voice, mixed with tears. “I’m sorry for doing it. I didn’t want to! But Maddox said we had to or else …”

  “You shouldn’t have done it if you didn’t want to!” Abby’s voice now.

  “It’s not our fault,” says Tyrone. “Talk to this bitch here about Maddox!”

  “Guys, guys!” I yell, trying to get my voice heard as emotions in the room rise. “Be quiet! He’s trying to confuse us. Bide his time!”

  “Bide my time, Jake?” Will asks through his smile. “What do you think I am, a super villain? Why would I want to bide my time? Listen to your girlfriend here, Jake.” And he pauses long enough for Merryn to moan again, which isn’t long. “Do you think I want to draw this out long enough for her to give birth right on this warehouse floor? No, no. I’m just honestly confused about what’s going on.”

  A babble of
voices, all trying to explain, but I yell for them to be quiet again. Eventually they do.

  “We’re here to kill you,” I tell him. “Plain and simple.”

  “If it’s so plain and simple, Jake, then why aren’t I dead yet? How long have we been in here? Fifteen minutes so far? Twenty? You should have killed me the second you saw my face, but you didn’t. Now why is that?”

  I open my mouth, but don’t know what to say. Why didn’t I kill him when he came in?

  “And while you ponder that,” Will goes on, breaking into my thoughts, “why don’t you ponder your recently deceased little sister?”

  My heart pangs. I can’t stop my eyes from leaving Will, darting over to the pile of debris, but to my surprise Will turns his entire head to look in Emily’s direction. I can see the side of Will’s head, open, unprotected.

  “I’m sorry I reacted like that,” he says, and he turns back to face me. “But she startled me. However, I do find it telling that you jumped over here to protect your little squeeze instead of checking on the well-being of the sister you purportedly joined the Chains in order to protect.”

  So many words. It’s hard to parse what he said. Emily’s body is behind that pile of trash. What is that trash even doing there, anyway? Just then, Trista’s voice pipes up.

  “Jake, you’re right! He’s trying to turn us against each other!”

  “Turn you against each other?” Will turns to look at Trista, then throws his head back and laughs, a strange juxtaposition to Merryn’s moans. “Don’t you see? You’re already against one another! From the moment you were born. Raised in a crack house or with a silver spoon in your mouth, you’ve always been against one another. I was the one who tried to unite you. Tried to make a place where we could all work together!”

  “What are you talking about?” Lance is speaking now. “You started the Bullets! You’re evil!” He spits this last word out. “You bring nothing but poison to everything you touch!”

  Will’s brow furrows, but his smile remains. “Lance … your word hurt me! That can’t be true. I kept you in employ, didn’t I? Why, without me you’d have have had a job that allowed you the freedom to work the way you did.”

  “You just felt guilty about what you did to Danny. Just like you were going to do to Nathan Willow! Are kids not even immune from your hatred?”

  Now Will’s smile does falter.

  “Who …?”

  “Danny! My little brother! You killed him when we were just little kids. He didn’t even do anything!”

  Will scrunches his face to the side. “Little kid … Danny … sorry Lance, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

  A beat, and then Lance yells. No, not yells. Roars. He lifts his gun as pure, raw emotion tears itself out of his throat and flame licks from the end of his gun as he fires, sending a bullet right at Will.

  “Augh!” His arm flies back, spraying blood and shreds of fabric out behind him.

  “Merryn!” I scream, and I wheel my gun onto Lance, aiming right for his heart. But I don’t pull the trigger, and Lance keeps his gun steady.

  Will falls back, off of Merryn.

  “You piece of shit!” Lance screams out, his face glowing red.

  I see Will slowly lift his gun with his injured arm, pointing it ahead, aiming at Lance. Reality catches up to me and I jump towards him, knocking the gun askew. It goes off and I see the head of one of the Slingers snap back, his body collapsing a moment later.

  Somebody screams, a shout of “NO!” is heard, and then madness takes over again.

  Shots begin firing, people yelling bloody death. Will’s muscles start working against mine and I try pinning him to the ground, try turning my gun so it’ll point in his direction. But he’s strong, stronger than I anticipated. I grab the hand of his holding the gun and slam it against the ground, forcing him to let it go. He responds by yanking his arm out of my grasp and swinging, connecting his fist with my jaw.

  It feels like my entire head has cranked to the side. I reel back, unable to control myself, and in the hubbub of it all see Will scramble to get up, keeping his body hunkered down as he runs for the back door.

  I raise a hand, try shouting, feel my neck almost splinter as I try shaking off the pain.

  “Stop! Stop!”

  The gunfire dies down, quicker this time now that Will has left the warehouse. Footsteps echo towards me.

  “Don’t worry Jake,” says Abby. “We’ll get him.”

  She and Jeremy dash to the back door of the warehouse, but gunfire greets them and they back up, taking cover, leaning out every now and again to fire back.

  My head is spinning. My neck feels like it’s going to snap in two at any second. In my ears all I hear is Merryn moaning, somebody else crying. The shots being fired from two guns. Under that, the slamming of a car door. And then, when Abby and Jeremy’s guns finally click dry, the peeling away of wheels as they leave dust and warehouse behind them.

  Trista

  The warehouse has an eerie calm to it. Despite the moans, the sobs, the ringing silence and smell of sulfur and blood, it’s almost peaceful.

  Through a thick layer of nothing I hear Merryn’s sobs, her body still huddled on the ground. My eyes see Jake walk towards her, his footfalls heavy, yet dull, on the floor. Closer by one of the Slingers is crouched over the dead one’s body. I honestly forget their names. The live one is crying, sobbing. He blubbers out words, unintelligible. One of the other Slingers hunkers next to him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

  “… right?”

  A voice, beside me. My body turns its head and I see Lance. He’s looking at me.

  “What?” I make my mouth say.

  “I said, are you all right?” He looks emotionless. Even his breathing is slow and steady.

  “Yeah.” I turn my sight away from him. Merryn. I make my body walk past the turned-over table, over the broken beer bottles and bullet shells. I reach Jake and Merryn and hunker down next to them.

  “How is she?”

  Jake looks at me. “I don’t see any blood.”

  I reach down and coax Merryn’s face up. It’s streaked with tears.

  “Merryn. Did you get shot?”

  She sniffs wetly, shakes her head.

  “No … but the baby …”

  “Oh God, hon,” Jake says.

  “Okay. It’s okay,” I tell her. “We’re going to get you out of here. Take you to the hospital. Lance?” I call out, looking around. He strides over. “Help me lift her up.”

  So the three of us, Lance, Jake, and I, help lift Merryn as close to standing as she can muster, feeling her body shake and shudder with sobs. I watch as we move slowly, hobbling towards the back door. As we clear the pile of debris, the body of that girl on crutches comes into view. My body feels part of Merryn pull back and I look to see Jake staring at the girl.

  “Emily …”

  Lance lifts a hand and puts it on his shoulder, making Jake look at him.

  “Leave it, man,” Lance says. “It’s over. Come on.”

  But then the body shakes, coughs. A moan, higher in pitch than Merryn’s, and Emily slowly moves her strange, twisted limbs.

  “Emily!” Jake calls. He leaves Merryn to Lance and me, moving swiftly and dropping down beside the girl, his sister. She moans as she rolls onto her side. The camera slung around her neck is shattered at the front.

  “Uh,” she coughs, “do I get a say on whether or not you leave me?”

  “Oh God, Emily.” Suddenly Jake’s crying, his whole body racking as he wraps his arms around his little sister. She lets out a stifled grunt and pushes him away.

  “Ow ow, careful,” she says.

  “Ah, sorry,” he says, still crying. Dirty fingers wipe away his tears.

  Just then Merryn lets out another, louder moan, her body threatening to collapse as she pulls in on herself.

  “Let’s take her to the car,” Lance says. His voice sounds thicker than usual, and I nod, not wanting to betray my ow
n tight throat.

  Jake stays with Emily as Lance and I slowly bring Merryn out into the brilliant sunlight, harsh compared to the darkness from inside the warehouse. My eyes see the tire tracks from where Will sped away. We hobble Merryn over to Lance’s car, and he opens up the back, the two of us helping her climb inside. Lance stays with her as I go back to get Jake and Emily.

  When I walk my body in it takes me a moment of blinking before my eyes adjust to the darkness. But once I can see clearly I realize that almost everyone is looking at me. Jake is still hunkered down behind the pile of debris, with Emily. The place looks like a mess. Bullet shells are everywhere, pools of beer from the broken bottles spill out beside the fallen table. The only people not looking at me are the live Slingers, all focusing on the one dead one.

  My body dips down and helps Jake lift Emily up to her feet. She’s wincing a lot, but her lips are tight and she doesn’t make a big fuss. I grab her crutches as Jake takes the brunt of Emily’s weight.

  We’re about to leave when a voice pipes up from the crowd.

  “Jake!”

  He turns around, we all do, and the crowd is looking at us still. Even some of the Slingers have lifted their heads.

  “What do we do now?”

  It’s one of the Chains, the girl.

  “Go home,” Jake tells her. “This is done.”

  “Home?” she asks, taking a step forward. “But … what about Will Silver? And the Bullets? What about everything you said?”

  I look at Jake. He looks tired. “Listen, guys … we blew it. Okay? I’m sorry. We didn’t kill Will Silver like we’d planned. But listen. Merryn might be going into labor right now and Emily needs to get to a hospital. I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.”

  The girl Chain doesn’t offer any more rebuttals, so Jake and I take Emily out to Lance’s car. When we get there it’s obvious that Merryn is taking up most of the back seat. Lance opens the front passenger door and Jake leads Emily to it. There isn’t enough space for me.

  “Um,” I hear myself start to say, but Emily speaks up before I can voice my concern.

  “Jake’s bike,” she says. “You can take Jake’s bike.”