We - Part 4
4.
The one behind the corner hasn’t changed his position. Then there’s the other one, 20 feet to his right. They’re still shooting through the window I stood behind last, and from time to time through the one I stood behind first. I check - plenty ammunition left to take out these 2. Let’s give them some more time for them to empty their gun chambers, so that I catch them when one of them is busy re-charging. Shouldn’t be too long now.
Sea lions are cute, wonder if Silvia will let me smuggle one back home…
Funny how you don’t feel pain when the bullet is traveling through your body, I feel myself slamming against the wall and I can’t help but ask myself why, and crumbling, sliding down. It feels like when you trip and fall as a kid, you feel the momentum and know you’re falling, and know you’ll soon touch the ground and feel a little bit of amusement and frustration that it’s happening, but you just go with it, because it’s too late to stop it. He’s blocking the entire door, unmoving, waiting. Before the gun can plunk in my lap, unfeeling fingers no longer able to hold it up, I fire. I see the same emotions flitter across his face that he must’ve seen across mine just a few seconds ago: surprise, amusement, denial and acceptance. He falls against the opened door in the same position as I, his lifeless eyes staring into mine.
It’s like your nerves at the entry point are shocked into unfeeling - like they all go ‘WTF?’, look at each other, call a meeting to discuss what could’ve happened, make up possible scenarios, then ascertain the probability of each, realize it’s bad, freak out and start feeling again. And now I feel it too - the pain, the blood oozing, pooling beneath me, the pull of unconsciousness. But not yet - my brain just won’t let it go. One of them must’ve snuck into the house with the sole purpose of taking me out, because I haven’t heard gunshots downstairs - that means they are still ok, that’s good. Only one left outside then. Must finish this.
I test my limbs, still in working order, hasn’t touched the spine then. Must just raise myself somehow a little to be able to aim across the window frame. I see him, still there, still shooting into the windows at the lower level, probably waiting for his buddy to come back, sure he succeeded in his mission. Well, think again, sucker! They both look up at me the same second: Sara and the shooter - I hear Sara’s gasp and see his eyes opening comically wide in disbelief before my bullet enters between them.
Now I can rest. Sorry, my love.
The one behind the corner hasn’t changed his position. Then there’s the other one, 20 feet to his right. They’re still shooting through the window I stood behind last, and from time to time through the one I stood behind first. I check - plenty ammunition left to take out these 2. Let’s give them some more time for them to empty their gun chambers, so that I catch them when one of them is busy re-charging. Shouldn’t be too long now.
Sea lions are cute, wonder if Silvia will let me smuggle one back home…
Funny how you don’t feel pain when the bullet is traveling through your body, I feel myself slamming against the wall and I can’t help but ask myself why, and crumbling, sliding down. It feels like when you trip and fall as a kid, you feel the momentum and know you’re falling, and know you’ll soon touch the ground and feel a little bit of amusement and frustration that it’s happening, but you just go with it, because it’s too late to stop it. He’s blocking the entire door, unmoving, waiting. Before the gun can plunk in my lap, unfeeling fingers no longer able to hold it up, I fire. I see the same emotions flitter across his face that he must’ve seen across mine just a few seconds ago: surprise, amusement, denial and acceptance. He falls against the opened door in the same position as I, his lifeless eyes staring into mine.
It’s like your nerves at the entry point are shocked into unfeeling - like they all go ‘WTF?’, look at each other, call a meeting to discuss what could’ve happened, make up possible scenarios, then ascertain the probability of each, realize it’s bad, freak out and start feeling again. And now I feel it too - the pain, the blood oozing, pooling beneath me, the pull of unconsciousness. But not yet - my brain just won’t let it go. One of them must’ve snuck into the house with the sole purpose of taking me out, because I haven’t heard gunshots downstairs - that means they are still ok, that’s good. Only one left outside then. Must finish this.
I test my limbs, still in working order, hasn’t touched the spine then. Must just raise myself somehow a little to be able to aim across the window frame. I see him, still there, still shooting into the windows at the lower level, probably waiting for his buddy to come back, sure he succeeded in his mission. Well, think again, sucker! They both look up at me the same second: Sara and the shooter - I hear Sara’s gasp and see his eyes opening comically wide in disbelief before my bullet enters between them.
Now I can rest. Sorry, my love.