Flicking

by Lukas Oberhuber

spread over the walk. The brown flecks barely hide the wet red splatter. He turned around, grunting slightly, opened the door and went inside.

  “What will he do next?” Dorian said in a wooden voice.

  “I need to get down there,” Andrea slid back from the window.

  “Are you crazy? Look at him.”

  “We have to stop him.”

  She shimmied down the ladder, climbed out the back window, and ran until she was crouched behind an angle by the side door.

  She didn’t have a plan. This was the moment where she had to act. If that man came out with another boy, she’d have to kill him. She didn’t have an option. She looked down at the gun, clicking the safety to off. How could she have forgotten that before? A moment later Dorian arrived behind her. She could feel his presence hovering and it comforted her. She concentrated, and pointed her little pink gun at the top of the side door. “I’ll get that piece of shit, watch me,” she whispered to Dorian without turning her head.

  “Let me,” Dorian whispered, and pried the gun from her hands. “These are my friends.” Dorian shifted in front of Andrea, ending with the gun pointed once again at the top of the door.

  They fell silent. Andrea’s thoughts were in turmoil. She waited in fear for the door to open a second time. If Dorian had a chance to stop a second death, would he be able to shoot? Should she have let him take the gun? Could she handle if he got hurt? But then really, she had no more experience with the gun than he did. Well, other than shooting Tara. That wasn’t really experience, was it? But the worry remained. At least she’d killed someone while Dorian had never even shot a gun. Could he deliver?

  The ten minutes that passed seemed like a month to Andrea. Her muscles felt cramped, rigid, aching. Finally the door opened. This time the big man pushed an African-American teenager in front of him. You’re about to die, Andrea wanted to shout to the boy. Had no one heard anything because of the silencer? And where the hell was the big guy’s gun stored? Even knowing it was there, she still couldn’t see anything.

  “What’s your real name, son?” the big man asked.

  He’s going to notice us, Andrea worried. We’re only inches away.

  Dorian stepped out, sending a shiver of adrenaline through Andrea, hands firmly gripping the tiny pistol in front of him. Should they really have gotten this close.

  She looked at Dorian, hoping he knew what to do.

  “Ask me,” he said in a low voice, the incongruously pink gun pointed straight at the man’s head. The big man’s head jerked around, hands streaking toward his waist. Dorian twitched. Will he pull the trigger? she wondered. This could be it.

  A loud crack echoed around the small clearing. Andrea stifled a scream. Dorian must have pulled the trigger. There were no weapons in the big man’s hands. After a moment, a red circle appeared on the big man just above the right nostril. With a strangely deep sigh, he crumpled to the ground, blood oozing slowly out of the small hole. Dorian had shot him, it dawned on Andrea. He’d done it!

  Her head finally clear, she rushed forward, grabbing the frightened kid and clapping a hand over his mouth as quickly as she could. Somehow she managed it before he made more noise. The boy struggled, though his resistance was surprisingly feeble. He must have been too shocked to react. That was the only explanation.

  “I’m Bunny and that’s Code,” she spoke into the kid’s ear without moving her hand from his mouth. She could feel him stiffen. She needed to play for a bit of time. She needed to convince him quickly. “Before you fight me, let me show you something. If you don’t believe, I’ll let you go.” She half guided, half pushed him around the corner. She felt him startle as 70mm’s body came into view. “This is what these guys are doing.” The boy’s chest jerked with shock.

  “So who’s inside? Tell us now,” Dorian demanded quietly as he joined them. His eyes had the look of a wild person. His cheeks blazed like two bright red apples, his body one single tense muscle. “And who are you?”

  Andrea released her hand from the boy’s mouth.

  “I’m Striptz,” the kid said, words slipping around numb lips, his body rigid. “Well, Tyrone Walters.” He’d clearly decided to trust them.

  “Hello.” Dorian almost managed to smile. “I’m Code.”

  “Yeah, she told me,” the boy said. “Inside they’ve got Ruutor, nil8 and Early Bird. And the bad guy. Colonel he calls himself. And nil8; he’s a bad guy too if these guys are really killing people.” He looked over at 70mm, as if to convince himself.

  “Yeah, we figured out about nil8. Anybody else?”

  “They said there were snipers.”

  Dorian’s eyes snapped around the clearing, searching the forest for guns.

  “How about ReeperG? Is that nil8” Andrea asked. Turning, she put her hand on Dorian’s arm. “Don’t worry about the snipers. If they were here, we’d be dead already.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “The movies, you slut. Would have happened a long time ago.” She laughed nervously. She could have gotten them killed.

  “Oh.”

  “ReeperG?”

  Striptz shrugged. “Never heard of him.”

  “And who’s that?” Andrea pointed back around the corner at the body of the big man Dorian had just shot.

  “That’s Lieut, I think his name is. He seems to do whatever the other guy wants.”

  “Lieut.” The name struck a chord in her mind.

  “They told us they were protecting us. Jesus, Jesus.”

  “We’re going in,” Andrea announced, locking eyes with Dorian, whose face had taken on a pallid shade. “Give me my little gun and grab the big guy’s gun. You’re my backup when we walk in. And you’re coming too, Striptz.”

  “Yeah. Ok. Fucking fuck,” Striptz sputtered. He put his hands on his head. “Snap out of it, Tyrone,” he told himself. He grabbed Andrea’s shirt as if she could stop him from drowning. “So,” he said urgently. “Once inside there’s two ways to get to the living room where everyone’s being guarded.” He let go of Andrea, his hands snaking through the air as if he was conducting an orchestra, pointing the directions. “Let me go first, since they won’t be expecting anyone else. It could give us an extra second or two.” He swallowed, hard.

  “Let’s make it quick,” Andrea said. “We don’t have much time before the Colonel guy will be looking around. He probably wasn’t expecting to hear a gun shot.”

  Striptz opened the door, and walked in, his face etched with fear. Andrea and Dorian followed. Andrea had to adjust her eyes to the gloom, revealing a narrow kitchen. She could hear voices in an adjoining room. Striptz pointed to the left. “Go around that corner there, and then turn the corner to the right. The door is there,” he whispered. Andrea followed Stripz’s finger with her eyes, her whole body on the verge of shaking. She bit a finger hard, gaining some temporary control. Striptz looked back at her and Dorian, turned, and walked to the right and out of sight.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Andrea heard a deep voice say.

  “What do you mean?” she could hear Striptz answering.

  Someone stood up. She couldn’t wait any longer. Now was her moment. She gritted her teeth and gripped her gun, briefly looking back at Dorian, locking his sweet face in her memory. She dashed around the corner into the room, running immediately to the right as she crossed the doorway, her gun at ready. “Put your hands up,” she screamed. Her eyes darted around, finally pointed her gun at a big but compact man with a moustache she saw walking towards Striptz. Her darting glance took in a number of people sitting on couches towards the back of the room. She focused her eyes back to the man with the moustache. A split second later, Dorian entered through the other door. “Hands up,” he yelled. “Hands up.”

  The compact man seemed almost relaxed. Strange. Suspiciously relaxed. He put his hands out in front of him, smiling a friendly smile, as if he had expected all of this.

  “Don’t you move,” Andrea growled. “I promise I’
ll shoot.”

  “I know you will,” the man smiled. “I’m cooperating, see.”

  “Who here is ReeperG?” Dorian screamed, his eyes scanning the room wildly, his voice barely under control.

  No one answered.

  “The traitor. Who is the traitor? Who made you all come out here? Who is nil8?”

  A tall kid with glasses pointed at a kid with the paisley pants and black as night hair. “It’s h-h-him.”

  “Yeah, you bitch, it’s me,” the black-haired pale-faced kid spit out. “What of it?”

  “You can check out 70mm outside,” Andrea growled back, keeping her eyes and aim on the compact man. The man who must be Colonel. “He’s dead. The other guy didn’t hesitate to kill him.”

  “No, you’re lying,” the black-haired kid, nil8, shouted.

  “It’s fucking true you bastard,” Striptz yelled. “You trying to get us all killed.”

  Striptz charged at nil8. Andrea screamed, “Stop,” as loud as her voice could. Her gun wavered and in that moment Colonel twisted out of her aim.

  Glory

  “I want the people of America to realize that our programs are working. The threat of counterfeit movies is controlled.” The Southern Californian sun reflected blindingly off Mel’s aviators; sweat glistened on his forehead. He stood in front of a pack of reporters on the Santa Monica Courthouse steps, boom mikes aimed at his face. He had come to explain and comment on the outcome of the latest anti-piracy trial. “We’ve created programs that give the American people the chance