Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Hello, friends.” I said locking the door behind me, making sure they couldn’t run away.
Click.
The sound echoed through the space.
I remained at the door and smiled.
A clink came from the other side of the bar.
The bartender—probably a seasoned veteran who had seen his share of bloodshed—spun to the right and bolted through a door leading to the back.
Smart man.
I put my view back on the men and held out my hands. “No warm welcome?”
They recovered from their shock quickly.
Here we go.
Fast, they reached for their guns.
One of them, a younger guy with a scar running down his cheek, managed to find his voice. He jumped up and pointed a gun at me. “Reaper, I don’t know how you got out after getting life, but you shouldn’t have come here.”
“No?”
“You’re a dead man.”
“But, I feel very much alive.”
The oldest among them—bald head and wiry frame—he aimed his gun at me too. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to kill everyone.”
As expected, the first bullets rang out.
I dove to the floor and snatched up the Colt I had tucked away. With a swift roll, I positioned myself behind the bar, using it as a temporary shield.
My heart pounded in my ears, but my mind was clear, focused.
Come on.
I peered over the bar. “Come on, Capos!”
More bullets charged my way. The shooters sounded like they were about to go around the bar. Their steps thudded against the wooden floor.
I sprung to my feet, and the Colt roared to life in my hand.
A precise shot found its mark. Blood sprayed from his neck.
Yet, a bullet zipped by my head, almost getting me.
Right as he crumpled to the ground, I dropped right back down.
The bar barely shielding me from another hail of bullets.
Splinters of wood erupted around me.
Marly’s voice rose above the others, trying to impose some order, but I could sense the fear lacing his words. “Get behind the bar, Freddie! You’re closer!”
“I’m not going back there! You do it!”
“Fucking pussy! It’s only one man!”
“It’s the Reaper!”
“So?”
This was my chance. I jumped back up and began shooting again.
The Colt kicked in my hands, firing shot after shot at the men.
My aim true.
Three crashed to the floor like puppets with their strings cut.
A thick fog of gunpowder rose in the room, distorting my view and surely theirs.
I pulled the trigger and realized I was out of bullets.
Fuck!
I leaped over the bar, grabbing a bottle of high-proof liquor as I went.
“Get him now. He’s out of bullets!”
“I’m out too!”
“Goddamn it!”
Ducking just in time to avoid another spray of bullets, I slid along the polished floor, closing the distance to my fifth target.
The man with the scar tried to adjust his aim, but I was already on him.
Let’s go.
I slammed the bottle into the side of his head. The glass shattered, and he crumpled to the floor, blood and liquor mingling in a deadly cocktail.
“He’s not behind the bar anymore!”
“Get over here!”
The others didn’t waste any time. They repositioned, trying to pin me down, their guns blazing, their faces twisted with rage and fear.
But I was one step ahead.
“Where is he?”
“Near the cash register”
Staying low in the fog, I grabbed another bottle, this time lighting a rag stuffed in the neck with a lighter I’d spotted on the bar.
The flames danced, casting eerie shadows on the walls as I hurled the makeshift Molotov cocktail at the bald enforcer.
“Ahhh!!” He screamed as the flames engulfed him. His body twisted and writhed. Then, he fell back, coated in angry flames. Gusts of black smoke rose from him, ruining my view even more.
“What the fuck was that?!”
“I don’t know!”
“Is Pete on fire?!”
“Dear God!”
From what I could see in the fog, the remaining two were momentarily stunned, their eyes wide with disbelief.
That moment was all I needed.
I lunged for him.
The other shot at me.
Shit!
I sidestepped him, grabbed a beer bottle from the bar, and smashed it against his head. He collapsed, but he wasn’t dead yet.
Right when I tried to finish the kill, the second guy jumped on me. “You fucking bastard!”
Marly.
We struggled, a dance of death in that confined space.
I wanted to take my gun out, but I always kept that for my emergency exit. One never knew if there would be more people waiting for me outside. It was always best to save as many bullets as possible.
We fought.
Come on. I need something to kill this bastard.
He wouldn’t let me go as he gripped me hard and slammed me into the end of the bar. He must have been out of bullets too since he no longer had his gun.
What can I use?
I saw a napkin, grabbed it, and thrust it into his mouth, momentarily stunning him.
Then, the sharp point of the wine opener caught my eye.
Yes!
I snatched the wine opener up and plunged it into his side.