by Chris Bostic
“And the ones who don’t? I mean like the ones who have to know they’ll get caught.”
Lee pinched his mouth shut. I knew there was more he could say, but he didn’t seem willing to offer it up. So I pressed him.
“C’mon, Lee. What’re you thinking?”
“I’d rather not say.” When I stared at him intently, Lee shrugged and relented. “Fine. When it comes right down to it and things are looking grim…they kill the witnesses. Maybe themselves too, but always the witnesses.”
I gulped for air. “Thanks for that.”
“We’ve got one advantage, though.”
“Damn, I hope. What is it?”
He held up his pistol. “These witnesses can shoot back.”
“That’s encouraging,” I said weakly, then took a deep breath. “You know what? Forget that.” I straightened up and brandished my pistol. “That is enough.”
“Yeah it is. That’s the spirit.”
“Speaking of spirits, I could go for some of those.” My eyes drifted to the shelves of perfectly aligned bottles along the far wall.
“Bourbon? Hope Fields drinking bourbon. Neat no less. You know there’s no mixers here?”
“Sure, not my classic perfect martini, but who cares? Just thinking, if we’re gonna have a big ole shoot out, Cowboy, I might as well have the barkeep set me up with a double shot first.” I tipped an imaginary cowboy hat. “What do you say, pardner?”
“It’s well past high noon, and it’s not the middle of main street.”
“Don’t be a party pooper. Besides, this is kinda like a saloon,” I gestured around the room, “and I could use a little liquid courage to calm the nerves.”
“I’d say it’s probably a bad idea with your headache. Or with a madman running around outside.”
“That’s my middle name.”
“Madman?”
I laughed out loud at that. “Jesus, Lee. Madman? Come on, bud. Everyone knows it’s Bad Idea.”
“Seems more and more like it every day,” he mumbled, but at least it sounded like he was joking.
I figured I might as well live up to the new nickname. I crawled over to the cabinet and reached up to pluck a bottle off the lower shelf. A solid, pricey bottle of Old Tyler’s best—the Master’s Collection expression.
The label read Aged Thirteen Years.
“This one looks really lucky. Thirteen years.”
“That’s half as old as you are,” Lee noted, while still staring out the crack of the window blinds.
“Not yet,” I replied.
He didn’t tell me to put the bottle back, so I pulled the tab around the top to remove a wax strip and popped the cork.
It smelled delicious. A perfect match for the deep, dark color of the well-aged whiskey.
“Half my lifespan,” I said as I swirled the bottle. “Well…hopefully we’re not at the end of it.”
CHAPTER 30
“You want the first sip?” I asked after having sniffed the bottle another time.
“Maybe a little,” he replied, though he didn’t seem as convinced as he normally would have. It hammered home the seriousness of the situation to me.
I sat the bottle down in front of me and debated putting the cork back in it.
“You know, celebratory drinks are so much better than, uh…uncertainty drinks.”
“It won’t be long now,” Lee insisted. “We’ll get you that drink.”
“Didn’t think we’d be back in this situation again, did ya?” When Lee looked at me, I waved a hand around the wrecked gift shop, and ended up pointing to the barricaded door next to him. “I know I didn’t.”
“Me, either,” he replied. “Never. Not for a minute.”
“Oh, well.” I sighed and gestured to the couch blocking the door. “That looks pretty comfy, though. Maybe you could meet me over there?”
Lee smiled broadly, but it faded in a flash. He pressed a finger to his lips and turned back to the window, gun at the ready.
I couldn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary, so I held my breath to try to be as quiet as possible. All I could hear was the background ringing in my ears from the earlier gunshots.
Granted, I could hear much better than a short while before, especially with normal conversation. However, what should have been a quiet baseline for me at that moment was more like a nonstop buzzing.
Footsteps clomped down the hallway. Those were easy enough to hear.
I spun to my left to see Clarice and Paul walking toward us without a care in the world. Of all the times to come join us, and not subtly. I could have shot them right then, and not by accident.
Not really, but then Paul bellowed, “Thought we should see what we can do to help.”
“You can start by shutting the fuck up,” Lee whispered harshly. “Don’t even move. He’s out there. Close.”
“Who is it?” Clarice asked.
Lee just scowled.
“No, really,” she insisted. “It’s an employee, right?”
Lee turned away from the window long enough to say, “Yeah. Now are we done?”
I could have answered that question for him.
Paul stood behind her. Having grasped the severity of the situation, he looked like he wanted to strangle Clarice when she blathered, “What’s his name? I’m sure I know him.”
“I’m sure,” Lee muttered. “You can go right the fuck on out there and tell him hello.”
“It’s the huge guy, the one they call Little Bill,” I finally said in the hopes of shutting her up.
“Oh, that makes so much sense. He was always such a grumpy ole fella. Makes-”
Lee whipped back around and practically shouted, “You’ve gotta stop. If I can’t hear what’s going on, I can’t protect you.” He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like, “Not that I even want to at this point.”
“Well….” Clarice shrunk in on herself. For a moment, I thought she might fake faint and collapse into Paul’s arms. Even that creep didn’t seem interested in catching her at that point. He just stared at Lee, quivering in shock. I assumed far more at the situation than how Lee had dressed down his afternoon delight.
Paul whispered to Clarice. My poor lipreading skills determined his words to be, “Let’s go sit.” Or possibly shit. The old dude looked like he could soil his trousers.
Lee huffed and turned back to the window, while they just stood there in the hall as useless as ever.
With things quieted down, I picked up on some outside noise again. Not the telltale whine of the side-by-side.
It was clearly boots or other chunky footwear, pounding on the deck along the side of our building.
The bastard wasn’t even trying to be sneaky, not that I thought a guy that big and brutish had that in his repertoire.
The footsteps stopped short of Lee’s window. My man let the blinds go. He leaned over hard to the side, like he was trying to conjure up a view of the outside world without having to bend the blinds.
I willed my ears to pick up any clue, but I couldn’t catch a single sound right then. All we knew was the guy stood on the other side—probably an arm’s reach from Lee.
So close we probably should have been able to hear him breathe or vice versa.
I couldn’t make out a shadow blotting out the sunlight through the blinds, so I assumed he wasn’t directly in front of the window. But it had to be close. No doubt about it.
If only we knew exactly where.
I thought maybe we should shoot right through the wall. It was something I was sure he would do to us, and we at least had an inkling of where he was at.
Lee showed no sign of thinking offensively. So much for his big talk about a best defense.
With nothing happening, I thought about trying to draw a reaction from the guy. Maybe making a bunch of noise and see if he would take some wild shots. Or try to barge in after us.
In my muddled mind, it seemed like the best situation to justify shooting back, as if we we
ren’t justified enough by being essentially trapped inside by him.
I looked down at the bottle in front of me and thought about how I could use it. I considered throwing it through the window. If that didn’t draw a shot, it might be enough to scare him away.
Lee’s earlier, ominous words came back to me.
No witnesses.
We had to do something, or he surely would. It had to be the only reason he was still on the property.
I looked back to Lee to see if he had any ideas. He’d gone to practically prone by that point, trying to peek under the blinds.
I couldn’t tell from his lack of expression if he could see anything.
Clothes rustled against the wall in the hallway.
I looked over to see Clarice adjusting her weight from one foot to the other. She looked pained, like she couldn’t handle standing there any longer.
So much for going to sit, or whatever.
She exhaled loudly, drawing a stare from Lee.
He sat up a little and drew his hand across his throat, giving her the universal sign to kill the movement.
She glared back at him, then her eyes bugged out.
I followed her gaze to the window above Lee, where a giant shadow had blocked out the sun.
I started to yell and raise my pistol, but it was too late.
In a blur, the muzzle of a shotgun shattered the pane, dropping glass on Lee. The barrel jabbed through the blinds—aiming at me.
I rolled to the side as the gun blasted. The shockwave echoed through the room.
Glass burst above me, showering me in bourbon and bottle shards.
Lee returned fire with the thug, but I couldn’t see a damn thing. My eyes burned so badly I wanted to die.
CHAPTER 31
“Hope!” Lee screamed. I heard someone rush toward me. Strong hands wrapped around my arms.
I thrashed on the ground, trying to dig at my eyes, though they stung so badly that I could barely touch them—if only Lee’s hands would have let me.
“You hit?”
I was sure I had broken glass embedded in my eyeballs, but I still tried to mash my hands at them anyway.
“Don’t touch your face,” he insisted.
“I have to!” I roared. “It fucking stings…so damn bad.” I wriggled more strongly. “Let me go!”
“You can’t touch,” Lee said gently but firm. “Not ‘til I can see.”
“Fuck that,” I groaned through gritted teeth.
“We need to wash ‘em out.”
“Oh, God.” The idea of putting something else in my eyes didn’t even appeal to me, but once I finally caught my breath I didn’t see how I had a choice. “Fine, but I can’t see to get up.”
“I got you.” Lee turned away from me to yell at the others. “I said get the fuck over there and watch that window.”
“Where’s that bastard at?” I muttered, fighting off the urge to press at my eyes. “Tell me you got him.”
“I think I winged him, but he’s gone.”
“Where?”
“Around the front. He cleared out in a hurry.”
I heard feet shuffling. Hopefully Paul. I wouldn’t have trusted Clarice to watch over my dog, much less my life.
“Take this pistol,” Lee said, and I assumed the sliding sound of metal on wood was my dropped weapon going over to Paul.
“O-okay,” the wimpy vice president answered.
“You see a damn thing and I want to know,” Lee told him, then directed his attention back to me. “Let’s get you up. Just hold onto me.”
“You keep holding onto me,” I said through gritted teeth.
“I will.”
I heard glass drop to the floor, tinkling on the hardwood as I got to my feet. It reminded me of the window shattering.
“You okay? The glass fell on you too.”
“I’m fine.”
He didn’t sound convincing, so I said, “I’m not so sure about that.”
“It’s just a scratch. A sliver caught me on the arm.”
I tried to blink my eyes open to verify, but my eyes stung too badly to even let them see daylight.
We shuffled down the hallway. There was no reason to limp, but it seemed like the thing to do when my brain screamed nearly as loudly as my eyes.
Lee was a good guide. He managed to not knock me into any walls or corners, though it went a bit slower than I’d hoped considering there was still a madman outside.
“We need to hurry,” I suggested.
“Almost there.”
With a squeak of the hinges and the faint odor of toilet bowl cleaner, I knew we were in the bathroom.
Lee guided me to the sink, and matter-of-factly said, “I know this is gonna hurt.”
“Just do it.”
When he turned the faucet on, I started cursing before I even bent over.
“Cup some water in your hands and blink into it,” he suggested. “Don’t rub, just flush.”
Ideally I would have been able to get my head under the faucet, but that wasn’t going to happen in a bathroom sink. So I took his advice and filled both hands with water.
When I tried to open my eyes, I created all sorts of unique cursing combinations. Probably even some that would make a veteran cop blush.
I blinked several more times into multiple handfuls of water. The pain slowly died down along with my prolific swearing.
“Are you about done?” Lee asked after a while, and I almost chuckled as I wondered if he meant with the cursing or the flushing.
“Both,” I replied, and reached a hand back. “Towel, please.”
“That was surprisingly polite,” he said. “But hang on. I gotta go grab some. They’re all out in here.”
“Oh, yeah.”
What a nice little reminder of everything I’d been through in the last few minutes.
What a fucking day.
Lee returned seconds later and guided a soft fabric into my outstretched hand.
I dabbed at my face. Slowly. Gently.
The stinging was still there, but not nearly as bad as before. Better yet, I didn’t feel anything grind as I blinked several more times.
“Whew. No glass in there, I think.”
“Let me see.” Lee got up in my face and turned my head slightly toward the light. I watched blood run down his forearm, while he stared into my eyes. “Yep. I’d say it looks all clear.”
I kept my eyes squinted since it just felt better. For some reason that seemed to keep the overall stinging down to a dull roar. Of course, the tensing of my face muscles did nothing for my headache, but that had to wait.
“Now it’s your turn,” I said, and motioned for him to put his arm under the sink.
He obliged while I looked at the shirt in my hand. A nice, high quality polo with fabric as soft as a baby’s bottom. Or so I’d heard. I didn’t have any experience with newborns.
I handed the shirt to him. “Press this on there and I’ll be right back.”
A simple first aid kit like we kept up front by the registers was probably not going to cut it. He needed something a little more permanent, so I hurried back to the gift shop, squinting the whole way.
I was happy to find Paul still stationed close to the window. Nowhere near as close as Lee had been, but well enough to get a good idea what was going on out there.
“You okay?” he asked as I rushed past him to a clothing rack.
“Yeah. That bastard still out there?”
“I don’t think so.” He frowned as he said, “I think I heard something by the front door.”
“Okay. We’re hurrying,” I replied over my shoulder as I rushed back down the hallway with a couple decorative bar towels.
Lee still had the shirt pressed against his forearm when I returned. I motioned for him to hold out his arm.
“Let’s try this.”
“That should work.” He gave me an approving nod. “Your eyes still good?”
“They sting like all hell, but yeah. I�
�ll live.”
“I hope so.” After I tied a towel tightly around his arm, causing him to grimace, he said, “Reckon I will too.”
“We gotta go. Paul says he heard Little Willie up by the front door.”
“Gotcha.” Lee pulled his pistol back out of the holster. “You should go get yours back from Paul…assuming he’s still got it.”
“Yeah, he’s got it.” I shook my head. “I don’t know. He’s fine to keep it, I guess.”
“I don’t know about that.” Lee patted me on the rear as we walked out into the hallway. “I’d feel better if it was back to you and me again.”
“Just the way I like it.”
“Good, ‘cause I’m gonna make a move.” He looked toward the back door. “Forget hiding. I’m gonna end this.”
CHAPTER 32
“So I slip out the door,” Lee whispered, “and I get around to the front where I can take him out.”
“That’s a lot of I business. What about back to you and me?”
“You stay here and look pretty, little darlin’.”
“Charming, Cowboy.” I put my hands on my hips. “Be serious.”
“I am,” he protested. “You watch that window. I don’t need you to be out there with your eye, or eyes.”
“I can handle it, just let me go get my gun.” I took a couple steps and then turned around. “Don’t be thinking you can run off on me while I’m not looking.”
“I won’t.” He nodded slowly. “I don’t like it, but I won’t.”
“Good.”
I got back to the corner and gazed into the room. When I’d run out there to grab souvenir towels before, I hadn’t paid much attention beyond the mission at hand. Especially to look at the scene of the crime perpetrated on me.
Numerous bottles on the wall above where I’d sprawled were reduced to piles of broken glass. Bourbon still dripped off the ledge, pattering onto the hardwood below.
Glass shards littered the floor. The overhead lights made them sparkle in a pool of ruined bourbon.
The good stuff too. Master’s Collection, the bastard.
Paul remained in his mediocre vantage point, my gun resting off to his side up against a cabinet. I went for it quickly, stooping for just a second to grab it.
