CHAPTER 3 - THE FIRE

“Let’s go!” yelled one of the arsons. “We need to head out before any other coppers show up.”

The door to the Sheriff’s office was busted open with a kick from inside. Stepping outside and stretching his arms like he just had a long day of work was Mick.

“Stop your yapping, man. I know.”

There looked to be about seven of’em, including Mick.

None of the gangsters seemed to notice me creeping up alley-to-alley, too busy with the fires and thoughts of escape.

Too bad for them, they weren’t leaving alive.

“Did you lock up the one that killed Van–”

I shot the scumbag through his temple and both his eyes, popping them into red paste.

“Get down!” Six of them left, and they all scurried behind different covers: barrels, signposts, and whatever else they could find to fit their future corpses behind.

One of them tried peeking over his barrel. I guess he thought he would spot me fast. What an idiot.

That was the last thing he ever did.

His head swayed back with a bullet lodged in his forehead.

Only five left.

In quick fashion, I cocked the hammer of my six-shooter, ready for another to show themselves.

“Where is he?” shouted one of the other arsons.

“I don’t know, Rich. Just don’t peek!”

“I knew we should’ve left Mick behind. I don’t even like the guy!”

“Hate your guts too, John.”

This was starting to feel sad. Killed two of them and they still didn’t have the damn balls to shoot back.

Come on.

Just try.

Give me an opportunity to show you just how outmatched you are.

Give me an opportunity to show you why this is my town.

A few seconds passed, and the only noise was the crackling wood of the Sheriff’s office. If this took any longer, I wouldn’t be able to check whether James or Bob was still inside. It wouldn’t matter if the building came crashing down.

I needed to hurry this up.

“Just pop out your heads, so I can turn’em into mush already.” Maybe taunting would give’em some foolish courage. “Seriously, this is getting a little boring.”

“His voice’s coming from one of the alleys across the street!”

“Two at a time, boys! Like we always do.”

What’s that mean?

Out popped two of the arsons simultaneously. Before I could get a shot off, they both fired off twice randomly and dropped back down quick.

“Don’t think it was that one! Didn’t see nothing.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Fortunately for me, they aimed for the wrong alley. Unfortunately for me, they’ll probably be shooting my alley next, the one just beside the Sheriff’s office.

Instead of waiting for them to, I wrapped behind the building to the other side, careful not to catch on fire.

The heat was hot and was making me sweat buckets. If the building didn’t collapse, the fire would probably kill James and Bob.

Bob’s whatever, but I kind of like James, though.

I need to hurry.

“Now!” Two more popped up, different from before. They did the same as the last duo but with the alley I was just in.

This time, though, one of them didn’t drop willingly.

“He got John!”

“Who cares?”

“Mick, you’re a real piece of work.”

Four more left.

“He’s in the opposite alley!”

No, I was in the opposite alley.

Do these idiots really think I’d pop out the same cover? Once I took my shot, I made a dash back to the other alley.

Another set of shots sounded off as I made my way across the street.

Just keep on looking over there. Don’t mind me.

“He’s over there! He’s trynna cross over!”

Really?

Out in the middle of the street, I was open. Vulnerable.

It seemed they knew that too when they all popped up with their guns drawn.

Hopefully, they liked aiming for the head.

I dropped down immediately, the whizzing of bullets flying over me.

The split second of silence after their initial shots felt like an hour to me. Unlike the past shootings, they didn’t get back into cover. They were confident in my demise. Too confident. Arrogant.

I guess I’d just have to teach’em a lesson in underestimating their opponent… Nah, killing’em is probably the better idea.

Propping up my revolver, I fanned the hammer and shot off all my ammunition into each and every single one of them.

At least, I was hoping for it to be all of them. Oh, William. Why did you forget to reload?

Three went down. One was still up. Mick.

And I didn’t have a single shot left in the chamber. He did, though.

Diving down to one of the barrels the dead men were using, I felt a shot graze my leg.

“William, was it?” I could hear his voice getting louder with each word. He was coming closer, and he was coming quick. “I’m going to piss in your head after I cut it open.”

Well, that’s something I never heard before.

“I’m good.” I popped out my cover with another six-shooter dropped by… John, I think? Eh, it doesn’t matter.

The important part was I shot Mick in his chest, dropping him like the rest.

Holstering John’s gun, I didn’t have much time to celebrate when a sign above the office fell down and broke apart. The fires were consuming the place, and it was getting bigger, slightly spreading off onto the neighboring buildings. I needed to get inside.

Rushing to the entrance, I let out a shout to anybody who’d been watching from afar. There always was in a small town like this. No way no one wasn’t watching the shootout or smelled the smoke in the air, “They’re all dead! Get some damn water here!”

Inside was hell. Or at least close to it.

The fire was raging and eating up anything it could.

“James! Bob! You still alive?” I swear I must’ve shouted my lungs out, but I could barely hear my voice beyond the hissing and lashing of the flames.

“Hurry up!” screamed Bob. Both of them were stuck in Mick’s cell. What poetry.

“Shut up, Bob!” James was on his knees tinkering with a key to the lock, having trouble unlocking the cell from inside.

They didn’t seem to take notice of me till I yoinked the key out of James’ hand. The metal key was hot from the flames, but not too hot for me to hold. “Let me do it, old man.”

“Oh thank God, you’re here,” Bob cried.

Unlocking the cell, we exited the burning building just before it all came crashing down behind us.

Unsurprisingly, there were already people coming to the scene with buckets upon buckets of Mother Nature’s drink of choice, fresh water.

Everybody was too focused on the flames to notice the one man on the ground getting up and aiming his gun at James. Mick. The rodent just didn’t know when to die.

Time felt like it slowed.

Pushing James out of the way, I reached for John’s gun in my holster. The flames that tickled it gave it a searing heat that burnt my hand with just a touch. But I couldn’t stand to let it go.

I needed to make the shot.

I needed to now.

My thumb slammed down on the hammer, cocking it ready to fire.

My finger pulled back and I felt the explosion of the bullet shoot out the barrel and end Mick’s existence once-and-for-all.

I’m the quickest shot in town.

Time came back up in speed, and my hand dropped the gun.

I had just exterminated an entire gang and saved my boss.

But all I could think of was the pain.

The pain in my right hand.

The pain of not feeling it.