He'd gone berserk at
the camp, killing everything that moved, waiting for someone to take him
out. He hadn't even been touched. Three Fingers figured this one was a little
smarter. Neither one of them wanted to survive but both wanted to make it
worth the effort to take them out of the game.
He swung up into the
abandoned stairwell, careful to keep close to the wall. His breathing was
the worst thing. He sounded like a freight train, not like in the old days.
The maze of hotel rooms slowly gave way. He was up near where they'd spotted
the shooter. Three Fingers waited, catching his breath, his fingers tightening
and releasing their stranglehold grip on the .45 automatic. |
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Smoke shivered up from
below. Cans of gasoline blew like cannon, and Three Fingers made his move.
"Burn baby!" Heaven was laughing, dancing naked before the blaze.
His eyes sharp for any hint of the Shooter's body, Three Fingers slid forward,
using the noise of the explosion to mask his heavy breathing. There he was.
Both hands steady now. Raised above the head and lowered into position like
any cop movie had taught you. Feet braced and let out half a breath. |
"Too Easy..."
He turned, shooting
too soon. Finger tightening on the trigger as he zeroed in. Feeling the tightening
in his chest. Fingers losing strength as he stared at the rod dribbling blood
down his stomach. Eyes glazing in silent farewell.
Neddy trained his
rifle on the woman who had just saved his life. "Why?"
"Why not?" She
leaned down and pulled the rod out, watching the gush of blood pump up from
the dead man's heart. "He would have taken you. You're losing your edge."
She slid the rod back into the quiver that went with her cross bow. Better
than bullets, she thought. Quiet and you can re-use the arrows.
Revised: March 6, 1999
Copyright ©1999. All rights reserved
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