28-03-2023, 10:56 PM
Arvind gets up from the bench following Sammy’s lead, his movements labored.
He is still recovering from the effects of the virus despite all the rest and medications.
He is able to smoke again, but not very much. He smokes four or five a day now, but only half the cigarette.
He really should quit, he thinks for the umpteenth time.
There is something strange, he thinks as he crosses the street behind Sammy. Things are moving faster than he’d envisaged, quicker than he’d like.
They’d sat down, and ordered tea.
Sammy had watched the tinted SUV intently. Then there was a green light, like the LED on a phone.
One of the older models.
A call had been received.
Sammy had jumped up, ready to go.
It was an automatic action. What had changed?
He’d trusted Sammy implicitly. After all, he’d come to the hospital immediately when he had called. Also, a trusted guy for Alexei, his partner.
He is vaguely aware that the tea shop owner is looking at him open-mouthed. Perhaps he's worried about the payment for the tea. Or is it something else?
“Wait,” he says, “what are we doing? Is Swati up there?”
“Yeah,” Sammy says over his shoulder. “I told you she’s there.” He injected more urgency into his voice, “But we have to go now. Remember, you are talking to the Russian, keep him distracted, and I’ll take her away.”
That sounds like a hare-brained scheme. Stupid and reckless.
“Is it just him and the girl? Are there others?” he asks, and immediately realizes it must not be the case.
Both Sammy and he are armed. There might be a civilized negotiation, and the guns just to enforce that, but there might be a shootout too.
But then, he knows Nikolai, even though he’s met him only once. Surely some kind of accommodation can be reached?
“You think we can talk it out?”
“We might, if you’re a good talker. Otherwise, we have this.” He pats the small of his back where he has his gun.
Arvind hopes this won’t come to a shootout. Perhaps if they take the gang by surprise, they would have a chance.
Yes, that would be best. Go in quickly before the gangsters have a chance to pull their weapons.
Right now they must be fucking the girl.
Swati, he thinks, I’m coming for you, and you have no idea what I have in store for you.
He dismisses his concerns and silences the alarm that is going off in his reptile brain.
Rationality and logic overcome the primal instinct.
He focuses on his breathing, trying deep inhales, trying to oxygenate his virus-ravaged body.
They are in the middle of the street now, Sammy’s large bulk still covering his line of sight but also protecting him.
Sammy looks left, then right. No cars or other vehicles coming.
No passers-by either.
Other than the tea seller and two customers, none of whom seem to be paying them any attention. Even the tea seller is focused on his saucepan, tea filter, whatever.
They near the other side of the street, and Sammy starts to veer away, toward the left.
He can see the SUV now.
There is a man climbing out of the front seat.
Not the driver’s side. The other side, the side that’s away from him, and therefore the one he cannot see clearly.
The man steps clear of the car.
There’s something in his hand.
The late afternoon sun glints off it.
Metal.
A few nanoseconds later, he thinks, gun.
A few more nanoseconds pass before he reaches behind him to remove his own gun.
Even as he does so, he knows it is too late.
A horrific punch in his chest and he is thrown back into the street.
He looks down at his chest.
Surely the man was too far away to punch him, land a blow.
When he sees the redness pouring out of the center of his chest, he understands.
It must have been a 45 cal, he thinks.
Big fucking bullet.
Then, there is no more time, and the darkness engulfs him.
Swati, he thinks as he fades away.
Swati.
The bitch is responsible for this…
He is still recovering from the effects of the virus despite all the rest and medications.
He is able to smoke again, but not very much. He smokes four or five a day now, but only half the cigarette.
He really should quit, he thinks for the umpteenth time.
There is something strange, he thinks as he crosses the street behind Sammy. Things are moving faster than he’d envisaged, quicker than he’d like.
They’d sat down, and ordered tea.
Sammy had watched the tinted SUV intently. Then there was a green light, like the LED on a phone.
One of the older models.
A call had been received.
Sammy had jumped up, ready to go.
It was an automatic action. What had changed?
He’d trusted Sammy implicitly. After all, he’d come to the hospital immediately when he had called. Also, a trusted guy for Alexei, his partner.
He is vaguely aware that the tea shop owner is looking at him open-mouthed. Perhaps he's worried about the payment for the tea. Or is it something else?
“Wait,” he says, “what are we doing? Is Swati up there?”
“Yeah,” Sammy says over his shoulder. “I told you she’s there.” He injected more urgency into his voice, “But we have to go now. Remember, you are talking to the Russian, keep him distracted, and I’ll take her away.”
That sounds like a hare-brained scheme. Stupid and reckless.
“Is it just him and the girl? Are there others?” he asks, and immediately realizes it must not be the case.
Both Sammy and he are armed. There might be a civilized negotiation, and the guns just to enforce that, but there might be a shootout too.
But then, he knows Nikolai, even though he’s met him only once. Surely some kind of accommodation can be reached?
“You think we can talk it out?”
“We might, if you’re a good talker. Otherwise, we have this.” He pats the small of his back where he has his gun.
Arvind hopes this won’t come to a shootout. Perhaps if they take the gang by surprise, they would have a chance.
Yes, that would be best. Go in quickly before the gangsters have a chance to pull their weapons.
Right now they must be fucking the girl.
Swati, he thinks, I’m coming for you, and you have no idea what I have in store for you.
He dismisses his concerns and silences the alarm that is going off in his reptile brain.
Rationality and logic overcome the primal instinct.
He focuses on his breathing, trying deep inhales, trying to oxygenate his virus-ravaged body.
They are in the middle of the street now, Sammy’s large bulk still covering his line of sight but also protecting him.
Sammy looks left, then right. No cars or other vehicles coming.
No passers-by either.
Other than the tea seller and two customers, none of whom seem to be paying them any attention. Even the tea seller is focused on his saucepan, tea filter, whatever.
They near the other side of the street, and Sammy starts to veer away, toward the left.
He can see the SUV now.
There is a man climbing out of the front seat.
Not the driver’s side. The other side, the side that’s away from him, and therefore the one he cannot see clearly.
The man steps clear of the car.
There’s something in his hand.
The late afternoon sun glints off it.
Metal.
A few nanoseconds later, he thinks, gun.
A few more nanoseconds pass before he reaches behind him to remove his own gun.
Even as he does so, he knows it is too late.
A horrific punch in his chest and he is thrown back into the street.
He looks down at his chest.
Surely the man was too far away to punch him, land a blow.
When he sees the redness pouring out of the center of his chest, he understands.
It must have been a 45 cal, he thinks.
Big fucking bullet.
Then, there is no more time, and the darkness engulfs him.
Swati, he thinks as he fades away.
Swati.
The bitch is responsible for this…
Check out my other works:
https://www...'.stories/memberpage.php?uid=2206767&page=submissions
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/lmassey
https://www...'.stories/memberpage.php?uid=2206767&page=submissions
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/lmassey
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)