Short story a work in progress part eight

Part Seven

Suitably told I know my place and sit next to a burnt out car. I take time to smoke a cigarette, and hold my old gun in my hand. Something I swore I would never do again. Without thinking my hands go through the motions of checking everything works and it has a full magazine. I blow smoke out of the corner of my mouth and feel like a true gangster. No one around me takes any notice, nearly everyone carries a weapon of some description “how the mighty have fallen” I think to myself and smile.

I don’t have long to wait, Pixie returns her face flushed and pupils the size of saucers. I give her a cheery wave and she sits down next to me. We look at each other and share a wry grin. “so you used to be one of Patric’s little police men then?” she asks. I nod a yes “more than that really, for a while I was his right hand man” I reply. “shit Fallen I had no idea” I shrug “no one was supposed to, shit happened and I ended up the man you know, well knew. It was not great but better than what I was before”

“so” she asks “you think this is real, the police raids, the prisons and our task?” I stand up and reach out my hand to her “only one way to find out”

Now Pixie has fired up her neurons she leads the way with confidence, before long we reach the end of the slums, the edge of no mans land. We or rather she finds the place we are supposed to meet our guide. I find my gun in my hand without realising and light another cigarette, although with a shaky hand.

“who are we meeting?” I ask. Pixie frowns , the dust is leaving her system and her brain is turning towards treacle. “begins with L, Larry I think” is her less then convincing reply. Just then someone comes striding out from around a corner, hand extended for a shake, this proves to be quite embarrassing as my contains a gun.

“Larry is correct young lady, you must be Fallen a pleasure to meet you, heard so much about you” he politely ignores the gun in my hand and smoothly switches his to Pixie who just about manages to shake it, this gives me just about enough time to pocket my gun and receive a bone grating handshake. “ shit mate” I exclaim as I try to get the feeling back in my hand, “you work out or what?” Larry grins, then I realize the bastard does indeed look super fit, fuck knows why but I feel embarrassed at the state of myself, so I try to stand tall and look healthy. This results in a coughing fit and I red faced drop my cigarette to the ground.

“so you our guide then Larry?” I ask praying the answer is no. “sadly not” Larry replies, this brings momentary relief, short lived as he casually brings out his own gun “ I am here to kindly relieve you of your burden, give me the box please” he demands his gun aimed at Pixie’s head.

Part Eight

Through a combination of terror, lack of sleep or maybe dust Pixie faints, taking us all by complete surprise. Larry is now pointing his gun at an empty space, and somehow mine is in my hand pointing straight at Larry, who seemingly calm and collected throughout drops his gun and calmly sits down next to Pixie “well Fallen seems like you hold the gun know, although I am slightly concerned by the way its shaking” he says. “you appear to have two options; kill me now or let me go”

“and if I let you go?” I ask. “I on my part promise not to kill you” Larry tells me all matter of fact “truth is with no guide I don’t think you will last long in no mans land. Chances are I may be able to retrieve the package once that happens”

”our guide?” I ask “currently hidden around the corner, a rather large hole where their head used to be” he replies. “your not exactly convincing me not to kill you” I tell Larry and with some relief notice my hand is shaking less.

Larry smiles and nods “I am a man of my word if nothing else, let me live, I don’t think killing is truly in your nature” he states looking as ever self assured and composed. “very true” I reply “however I have thought of another option” and with that I pull the trigger. A rather large piece of Larry’s leg vanishes in a trail of blood and bone. His face white and teeth gritted he can only nod in agreement.

I grab his gun and drag Pixie who appears to be stirring, the sound of a gun will have that effect, and go looking for our guide. I don’t have far to look and Larry’s description is visibly accurate. Whilst Pixie groans in a corner I search his pockets for something anything that could help us. I find a small bag of dust, for a moment I consider throwing it away, but think about my barely touched bottle of vodka I hang onto it through guilt.

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