Thursday, May 28, 2009

The Passenger 1.5

“Hi, you dumb mother-fucker.”

With that curse, the passenger lifted his pistol in a blurred motion, and snapped off a quick shot, which took the man in the door way in the head. As the man’s head snapped to the side, the shooter jumped off the ground, aimed toward the other four antagonists, and fired four more shots in quick succession.

Each shot took the intended target cleanly between the eyes, dropping them backwards as the dull thud of lifeless bodies punctuated the gunfire.

The reaction from the soldiers outside was immediate. Even before the last corpse had hit the pavement, a barrage of hot lead began perforating the Starbucks, tearing into decorations and patrons alike.

The passenger rolled out of his sitting position, and bolted for the rear exit. One customer was still standing in the middle of the shop, staring dumbstruck at the destruction raining around her. As the passenger passed her, he paused to push the woman down, away from the rain of fire.

“Get down, idiot!” The delay in saving the woman’s life enabled the gunmen outside to draw a bead on the passenger, and he pitched forward as a bullet passed straight through his arm just above the elbow.

Cursing a blue streak, he turned the tumble into a roll, trying to take away as much of the impact as possible from his wounded arm.
The passenger came to his feet, and shed his jacket. Blood streamed copiously from the wound in his arm, but he didn’t dare break his momentum. Just as he reached the back door to the alley behind the coffee shop, the door slammed shut in his face.

Rebounding off the solid wood door, the passenger hit the floor with a dull thud, and lay there groaning. Bullets whizzed over his head, shredding the various pieces of eclectic art that had been hanging on the wall, and utterly demolishing the pieces of furniture that had been scattered throughout the cafe.

The passenger took the time he had while he was on the ground to rip a strip off of his t-shirt and tie it in a tight knot around his elbow. With the flow of blood staunched, he began edging his way to the door. The gunfire had finally stopped, which meant that his attackers were going to try infiltrating the establishment for another look.

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