SEVERAL DEATHS IN
THE FAMILY
Chapter Eight: No Use Crying Over Spilled Blood
Snap...
The goddamn hammer had landed on the only empty chamber in the cylinder and Ricardo freaked. His head swung around and he really started shaking and rocking, the legs of the heavy wooden chair to which he was tied scraping against the cement floor as he struggled to free himself. His wrists were seeping blood where the zip ties were digging in and he was crying, sobbing “Por favor! Mi Dios, por favor!” when I pulled the trigger again. This time the hammer landed on a full chamber and the sound of the shot echoed in the empty room. Blood sprayed from the impact of the bullet covering my hand and forearm in crimson specks.
I backed up stiffly and watched Ricardo continue to shake, his head slumping slowly forward as he gurgled and died. I felt bad for the way he had to go, even worse that it was my fault and I had to watch. During the minute or so that it took Ricardo to leave this earth, I relived the past two weeks... felt the sting of that blade on my chest again, relived the fear, the adrenalin rush of hand-to-hand combat, the monstrous thrill of killing. The surprise and relief at not being dead myself.
After Ricardo had gone completely still, I walked over to the washroom and cleaned the blood off of me, numbly wiped the barrel of the gun. I took a long look at myself through the haze of the filthy mirror. My ears were ringing, I felt sick to my stomach, and I barely recognized the ghastly face that stared back at me, a look of horror fixed in the weary bloodshot eyes. Suddenly, I felt the vomit rise at the back of my throat, turned and dropped to my knees, emptying my stomach into the rust-stained toilet bowl. Somehow, this one hadn't felt much like a victory.
And the bad news was, I had been planning on dropping the last two targets on my list the exact same way.
Read Chapter One
Read Chapter Two
Read Chapter Three
Read Chapter Four
Read Chapter Five
Read Chapter Six
Read Chapter Seven
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