Page 23 of Double Shot
“Would you compare this to the Fortress of the Frost Lord, or the Lair of the Deathless Dragon?” I asked.
“Fuckingwhat?” I heard Lach half-bark.
“Totally Deathless Dragon, but put it in Elfenwood, wood instead of stone,” Grant replied.
“Fantastic,” I said, and dropped to my one good knee, shouldered the AK and fired three quick shots. The action of the gun was flawless, the accuracy of it was as rusty as my practice. Two of the approaching men went down to body shots. I aimed low. I wanted to put the bullets through their bowels. That would hurt more, and last longer. I knew them, and their fists and boots. They were the ones who handled the leather straps and gags before Kaijin would come and play.
The last tried to serpentine, and I put the round higher. His neck came apart at the shoulder and he fell backwards.
I rose to my feet and started advancing again. “Grant, give me directions to the motor pool area,” I said.
“On it, my dude. Looks like three hundred meters to your south-south-east. Pathway, ornamental stone wall with open gate, six bogies, two are dogs.”
“Fucking dogs!” Lach growled.
There was a burst of gunfire, several three-round bursts in close succession. I moved forward. The men ahead of me were already turning to face the louder threat of the guy firing off bursts. That was fine with me. “They’re breaking toward you, mate,” I said.
“Let ‘em come,” Lach said. There was another round of rapid fire. He was lying down suppressing fire, and it was keeping their heads down, and drawing them toward him.
“What’s the count?” I asked.
“Looks like nine, now,” Grant replied.
“Be careful!” I heard Sadie yell so we could hear her. I advanced again, quick and low. There were shouts, and I knew that whatever guard detaille putainhad would be completely on its feet and responding. I reached the door to the main garage which looked like it had been a livestock barn, or perhaps part of the keep that had been changed over. I opened the door and stepped into darkness.
“I can’t follow you in there, dude!” Grant complained.
“Keep on Lach, he’s drawing the heat right now,” I said softly. I pulled the door gently shut and kept to the wall as I moved to the doors at the end of the room. There were a half a dozen vehicles inside – most were labor vehicles and such – the place was a working vineyard and did some other agricultural activities. Eloise had told me about the annoyance of going past where the wannabe soldiers were mock-barracked, between the jail and the main kitchen.
And that the arsenal was attached to the barrack hall.
At the front of the motor pool.
I kicked the door of the barracks open. There might have been a few stragglers left inside, the last to hear the call, and the slowest to pull on their boots and grab their guns. I sprayed the room with the AK, putting bullets through thighs, groins, hips, and knees. They screamed, some tried to draw weapons, and they were the ones I gave a second splash of hot lead.
“Giuseppe? You bloody wanker, I told you I was going to do this.” I raised the rifle and pointed it between his eyes. The gray-headed man snarled at me; hands clamped over the shredded ruin of his left thigh. He started to scream a litany of obscenities at me, but I cut him short, shooting him between the legs.
He made the motions of a full scream but no sound came out of him.
I put the last round in the clip through his chest. He collapsed backward and painted the wall behind him with a fan of blood. The door to the arsenal was open, and I turned and faced the kid standing in the doorway. He was holding a FAMAS F1 rifle, and I could see his hands trembling.
I stared him down and advanced; his eye twitched.
With deliberate intent, I lifted the rifle to my shoulder, feeling that cold rush of adrenaline. I had been out of commission for too long, on my back for too long, and too long before that, sitting in just a chair. I advanced on him, with an empty gun, but he didn’t know. He stumbled back, giving ground. His face became a mask of fear and the last few strides were at a near run. At the last moment, I swung the rifle and bashed him in the face. He fell with a crunch and a spurt of blood from his nose.
I grabbed the FAMAS from him and jammed it in his face. “If you bloody well live through today, go home to your mother, and you kiss her bloody feet.” He shuddered, and his pants went dark as he pissed himself.
He curled up into a ball and sobbed. I stepped over him and went to one of the racks that still had guns. I grabbed several magazines for the FAMAS, and a pair of pistols. “You there, Deej? Bring Lach to my location. I have access to weapons and ammo.”
“He’s moving your way now, but could use some support, no god mode IRL,” he replied.
If this had been the arsenal on Bootlegger Head, there would be strange, exotic weapons, fun explosives. This was a barracks, so there might have been three or four different guns, but twenty or thirty of each. I saw something that gave me a special feeling, a long barrel shotgun with a pistol grip. I hefted the powerful gun, racked it, and started stuffing shells into the tube.
“How’s the weather, mate?” I asked.
“Raining,” Lach responded.
“He’s pinned behind a stone wall, ninety meters west of your location,” Grant said.
