Into the Fire

by Mark Tufo

  “She would have shot you, Mike.” BT was trying to assuage my feelings.

  The girl’s mouth was moving wordlessly like a fish out of water. Her eyes grew big, as I would imagine the specter of death began to move in for his due. BT kicked the gun away as the girl shot her right hand out to brace herself as she started to fall over.

  “Are there more of you?” BT asked her, but the glaze in her eyes let the both of us know she was further along in another realm than she was in this one.

  “Mike?” drifted out from the store.

  “F-fine!” I shouted back.

  I had to step away as the pool of blood spreading out from the girl threatened to wash over my boots, much like a sense of panic threatened to wash over my soul. This was by far not my typical combatant and I was having a hard time reconciling the fact that I had just ended her life in a violent manner. I don’t know how long I stood there but it was long enough for BT to have done a complete circuit of the storage room.

  “It’s clear, man. Come on,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

  I was staring down at the girl who had finally fallen over onto her side, half her face obscured by the puddle of blood she was laying in. She was looking up at me but the light of life had left her. She was pretty; she reminded me of Stephanie from the Julipion in some ways, the straight nose, the soft curve of her neck. If her eyes hadn’t been so flat, they could have possibly been sisters…or at least cousins.

  “You had to, man, come on.” BT dragged me away.

  Had to or not, this was going to be a difficult pill to swallow. I felt like I’d run over a puppy with a tank. I was unnerved, or maybe it was unhinged, as we approached the door to the apartment above.

  “You with me, man?” BT might as well have been speaking through a long winding tunnel. I vaguely remember nodding.

  “Did she look like Stephanie to you?”

  BT had to pull his hand away from the doorknob. “Stephanie? What are you talking about? The girl back there was the enemy, Mike, plain and simple. Doesn’t matter the skin she was wrapped in. Everything can be dangerous—especially pretty things. Now stop fucking around and get your head back into it.”

  Easier said than done, I wanted to tell him, but I nodded anyway.

  “You ready?” I nodded again.

  This time I didn’t kneel down. I was fully exposed to whomever might be on the other side. It was sort of my penance for the sin I had just committed. When I didn’t receive a 7.62 Hail Mary, I figured I’d served my sentence.

  “That was stupid,” BT admonished me as he pushed past, seemingly so that I wouldn’t get myself killed. “There are two floors.” BT had his gun pointed up to the landing ahead of us where another set of stairs went up.

  “We’re going to have to do this a little differently.”

  “How so?”

  “One of us is going to have to stay on the landing to make sure Cypress doesn’t come down while the other checks inside.”

  “I’ll do it. You don’t look right yet. Not that you ever look right, but you look less right than normal.”

  “Funny,” I said, though I felt no mirth in the word.

  “You open the door this time.”

  There was not much room on the landing for the both of us, so I stayed one step down and reached over. At first, I was fearful that the door was locked and we’d have to bust it in. I did not want to give Cypress any more advance notice of our coming than was necessary. It turned easily enough and, more importantly, without a sound. The apartment was dark, overly so. BT ducked in quickly. I came up the step and watched as he entered. I could see heavy curtains covering the windows that led to the street. BT wisely did not open them. I think I would have before I’d realized my mistake of letting those down below and outside know our whereabouts.

  There was a kitchen immediately off to the right. It was clear except for a huge stain that I’m sure was not chocolate milk, though it had a brownish hue to it in the light I was afforded. BT was out of sight. He’d taken a right to a small hallway that looked like it led to a bedroom or two and a bathroom. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure about that, although I felt it was safe to say, as all I could see was the aforementioned kitchen and a decent sized living room. I was thinking all was clear until I was assailed with a stench that a skunk would have shied away from. BT came back a few moments later, a little worse for the wear.

  Now it was my turn to ask him if he was alright.

  “Yeah, they’re already dead. Been there a long time. They look like they’ve melted into their beds.”

  “I could have gotten by without the added description.”

  “Yeah, well, I got to see it, I figured I’d share.” He ushered me out and quickly shut the door.

  We went up the flight of stairs. “I’ve got this one,” I whispered. He must have seen something in my eyes, or he had still not recovered from his previous encounter, because he did not bat an eyelash at me. Unlike the apartment below, this one had ample light. It was laid out exactly like the other—only in reverse.

  BT stopped me before I could enter. “There are two good-sized bedrooms down there and one bathroom. The master bedroom also has its own bathroom.”

  “I wonder how much rent was? Sorry,” I said when I saw BT’s expression. I darted in and over to the kitchen where I used the counter as a means of cover. It looked out to the living room in an open floor plan design. BT came over as well.

  I went around him and hugged the wall of the living room. When I got to the hallway, I quickly poked my head around the corner. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I expected to watch my blood spray across the room. Nothing except three closed doors. My heart was slamming in my chest. It was fear—but not for myself—I was now trying to backtrack our progress. Had he somehow slipped past us? The only time he could have done so was when we were in the storeroom. Tracy had called out to me. Was she asking for help before Cypress quieted her and I had selfishly thought she was asking how I was? I was as close to panicking as I could ever remember. He could have easily done it while BT was checking the room out and I’d been in a daze, staring down at the lifeless form of that girl. It was actually the enemy that quieted my dread and gave me the calmness I was looking for.

  “Cypress, you want us to come in there?” the same man shouted up from the outside.

  “No, you stupid idiots! Just leave me all alone to hang!”

  “Oh…okay.”

  I shook my head. The guy below had absolutely no clue about sarcasm.

  “Yes, you fucking idiot. Go in there and kill them all!”

  “You just said not to.”

  I ducked low when I heard Cypress’ rifle go off. I think he took a couple of shots at his lackeys. We had to do this fast; Tracy was about to be in a gunfight, and she was outnumbered, although I felt the advantage was still hers. I started moving to the door at the far end of the hallway, dismissing the bathroom and other bedroom. I could only hope this was not to my detriment. I could almost feel BT’s head shaking behind me for my reckless act. If you’re reading this, it obviously means at this time you are safe, I can only hope that this truth holds for you.

  I just want to take a second and see if I can convey to you the feelings one experiences in a gun battle. We’ve all watched movies, read books or, because of this day and age, we’ve actually been in a battle. It is an altogether unnatural experience. A projectile moving faster than can possibly be seen is being fired from a gun by a person whose sole goal in life is to end yours before you end theirs. As humans, we understand survival or else we wouldn’t have made it this far; that goes without saying.

  With bullets flying, though, things are happening faster than we can process the information. Fear becomes a tangible entity, sapping strength and will with its iron vise-like grip over our heart. Limbs feel leaden whilst also wanting to float away. It’s a strange sensation. That’s the best way I can describe it. I’ve killed more people than I ever want to tally, along with ali
ens, and each and every time, my body forces me to go through this mental anguish. I don’t know if I hope one day to get over this or not. If I get used to it, that could mean I’ve lost my humanity, but it sure as hell would beat the feeling I had right now. I kicked the door open. Cypress was faster than I would have expected a man named after a tree to be.

  The muzzle of his gun swiveled around, and he was sending rounds downrange before he ever fixed on a target. I completely understood his strategy. I ran into the room and dove to the side opposite him, placing the king-size bed between the two of us. His rifle was blowing holes into the mattress and pillows, sending plumes of feathers up into the air. I had a moment where I wondered how many people still had goose feather pillows. That stopped immediately when the floor around me started getting pocked with holes, wood splinters intermingling with the softer pillow contents. I just kept rolling until I got to the bathroom. The toilet, which was above my head, exploded in a storm of shattered porcelain. Water sluiced around me—at least I hoped that was what the liquid was. I wasn’t even all that concerned at the moment if the bowl had previously been flushed, as long as the reason I was getting wet was not because I was leaking my own blood. The noise was so deafening as to be silent. I know that makes about as much sense as cuddly cockroaches, but that was what was going on.

  The bathtub was next, his rounds climbing higher due to the heavy percussions recoiling on his shoulder. I cut my right hand up pretty good as I pushed away and to the side, getting as close to the vanity as I could and away from the door. I heard a few more rounds, and for a moment all was quiet.

  “Mike, Mike, you alright?” BT had come into the apartment and into the bathroom. “Shit, you’re hit,” he said when he saw the blood coming from my hand.

  “I…I don’t think so,” I told him, sitting up. “You got him?”

  “Yeah. He won’t be bothering us anymore. He was so dead set on you that he never even saw me.”

  “Took your sweet ass time. Help me up.”

  “I saved your ass, I guess we’re even.”

  “One more favor, man, I can’t look. Was the toilet clean?”

  BT looked over my shoulder. “Umm, not so much.”

  “Fuck, let’s go help Tracy.”

  I grabbed a hand towel sitting on a shelf and quickly wrapped my hand up. When I came out I wasn’t expecting the sight I saw. Cypress was still clinging to life. BT’s bullet had entered into the man’s side and must have severed his spine. His lower body was on the floor with his top half pressed up against the bed. His hands hung uselessly by his side, his rifle in his lap. Nothing moved on him save his eyes, which followed me out of that bathroom, an accusatory hatred blaring from them. My first inclination is to always give people shit, but this poor bastard had certainly paid for any transgressions he had levied against me.

  I pulled my knife out from my ankle sheath. “One blink for no, two for yes,” I said, holding my knife up in front of his face.

  “What are you doing, Mike?” BT had stopped at the door that led out and turned to look.

  Cypress had tears coming down his face. He blinked once and stared at me. I couldn’t tell if he hated me beyond reproach or was thankful for my offer. He then closed his eyes, holding them closed for a couple of seconds before snapping them open. I did not hesitate as I shoved my knife through his third and fourth rib at an upward angle, cutting through his heart and giving him the mercy killing he’d requested.

  BT started coughing. I thought for sure retching was going to be next. “What the hell, man?”

  “He didn’t want to be like that. You think anyone here was going to care for him?”

  “Why didn’t you just shoot him then?”

  “Didn’t want anyone else to hear the noise.” That was a lie. I’m not entirely sure why I wanted to use my blade. More personal, perhaps? Maybe I wanted to let him know up close he’d messed with the wrong people. No doubt I was hardening to the world. “Let’s go help Tracy.”

  BT looked over to Cypress and then me, a look of doubt clouding his features, and then we were off. Taking the steps two at a time, I knew if I stopped suddenly BT would run over me like a Mack truck over a Mazda Miata and there would not be much of me left. We ran past the storage room and out the “Employees only” marked door and into the store proper. Tracy had moved a couple of aisles closer.

  “Down! They’re inside!” She managed to yell without getting her voice above a whisper, although how they couldn’t hear the two bulls as they entered the china shop was beyond me. Well, one bull and one elephant might be a better portrayal.

  As if in instant response to Tracy a shot rang out. I didn’t even know I’d been hit until an intense flare of pain spread out from my thigh. I dropped down faster than I had a right to.

  “Man down!” BT yelled. I thought it was in reference to me until I saw a bloom of blood near his knee. Seems the shooter had gotten two for the price of one. The bullet had gone in and out of me and into BT. “I’m infected! I’m infected!” he shouted twice before I was able to pull him down.

  “What the hell are you talking about? This isn’t a zombie invasion,” I told him, as I grabbed my knife to cut away at my pants and see if the bullet had severed an artery.

  “Zombies? Who said anything about zombies? I now have Talbot blood racing through me. I can almost feel the sickness spreading.”

  He looked genuinely terrified. I found it pretty amusing, may have even laughed if I wasn’t hurting. The bullet had struck me high near the hip, a few inches over and, well, I may have taken my knife and taken a life I no longer wanted to live. That should be clear enough. The entry wound was about an inch from missing me completely. The good news was that it was nearly cauterized, hardly bleeding at all. The exit wound was a different story. Like any exit wound, it was much larger than the point of impact. Blood was dripping from me and onto the floor as I sat with my back against the aisle end cap.

  “Tie it off and get back in the fight, Mike,” Tracy said, after taking a precursory look over.

  “Your sympathy is endearing,” I told her. I cut a strip from my pants and made a quick bandage. It stung like hell and needed proper cleaning, but for now, I was alright. BT, on the other hand, looked on the verge of passing out. He was sitting next to me, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

  “Not doing good, man, not doing good.” He looked over to me, his eyes almost taking on the same tone of “just finish me” like Cypress’ had.

  “I’ll help you, man.” I reached down, cut his pants open and stared at the wound. “Oh, my God.”

  “What, man, what?” He reached out and grabbed my shoulder.

  I reached into his cargo pocket and pulled out a magazine. The corner had been completely crushed, a chunk of lead still embedded in the metal bullet holder. One edge had become razor sharp, causing a blood-inducing scrape on BT.

  “You fucking baby.”

  “So…so, I don’t have your crazy blood flowing through me?”

  “You two are pathetic. Can you get back in the fight now?”

  The bad guys were in the store that was for sure, but they were not coming any closer. I hoped to use their indecision to our advantage.

  “Cypress is dead!” I yelled.

  “The hell he is,” came the reply.

  “Go check for yourself.”

  “Oh, like you’re just going to let me walk by and up to his apartment.”

  “The street, dillwad. Go to the street and yell up, you won’t get a response.”

  “This a trap?”

  I shook my head. “Fucking idiot,” I mumbled. To him I yelled back, “Well, if it is, I haven’t figured it out yet!” Although, even as I said it, a brilliant one came to mind. If I were smarter, I would have had BT wait in the apartment and then just kill any of them that came a calling.

  “Sparks, go out and check.” I had not expected the man’s conversational tone to sound so close. They were on the other end of the short aisle it seemed.r />
  A few seconds later we could hear Sparks shouting up for Cypress. “Cypress? Yo, Cypress, man, it’s Sparks! Wham-O wanted me to check on you!”

  “Wham-O,” I mouthed to Tracy. She angrily pointed back down the aisle to the men we were confronting, keeping me on track.

  “Nothing, Wham-O!” Sparks shouted from the street.

  “Get back in here!” Wham-O responded. “So what am I supposed to do if I believe you really killed him?”

  “Let us go,” I said, meaning it.

  He snorted. “Just up and let you go?”

  “I didn’t start this shit, well…not completely,” I clarified. “Seems to me you guys were drawn into this by Cypress, and now that he’s gone, there’s no reason to continue.”

  “Valid point. Cypress was an asshole.” There were snickers throughout the store. “How’s that going to look though if we just turn our backs?”

  “Does it matter? You’ll be alive.”

  He laughed. “You think mighty highly of yourself, don’t you?”

  “He’s Michael Talbot, he should!” BT shouted.

  “Bullshit, and I’m Princess Peach,” Wham-O replied. “And even if somehow he was the mighty Michael Talbot, what do I give a shit? Be a feather in my cap if I killed him.”

  “Is it really Michael Talbot?” Sparks’ voice was quivering as he asked the question. “He can’t be killed man, he’s a ghost.”

  “I am?” I asked BT softly.

  “You’re white enough,” he answered back.

  “Shut up, Sparks. Hey, Mikey Mike, if it’s you, maybe you should stand up and let us see if a bullet will pass through you,” he laughed.

  “I guess that strategy isn’t going to work,” I told BT.

  “Listen, Wham-O.” I had a hard time saying that name with a straight face. “There are four of you and three of us. Maybe we win, maybe you do, but some of us are going to die, maybe me, maybe you. And for what? Cypress is dead, and we just want to go on our merry little way.”

  “Come on, man, you know that can’t happen. Cypress was an asshole, but he was my asshole.”

  I laughed. It was involuntary. I couldn’t help it.