Page 92 of Savage Throne
Is that why many haven’t just come over to the crates to kill me?
Apparently, outnumbered or not, people still didn’t want to possibly get shot in the head. And I’d surely shown them tonight that I could hit my targets, even while being attacked.
I gazed back at them, now assessing the armed men.
I’d killed the bolder guys that had been by the board of pictures, the angry reader, and the Mahjong players.
Right now, many of the guys I was looking at were the men that had been polishing weapons and further in the back of the tent. And. . .some of their hands were shaking in fear as they held their weapons.
Are these mainly the followers? Did I kill all the leaders?
I took them in some more, and they watched me with wary eyes as if. . .they knew what I was capable of now, and terror had finally found its way into their hardened faces.
So. . .I may have a chance. . .
Two men, bolder or perhaps more desperate than the others, stepped forward. Their swords gleamed under the dim lantern light.
They moved slowly.
Cold dread slithered down my spine.
Here we go again.
I didn’t dare check how many bullets I had left.
The space began to close in around me as the two men advanced.
“Come on.” I muttered, raising my guns.
The men saw that and began to race my way.
I squeezed the triggers.
The guns roared in my hands, the violent recoil vibrating through my arms as the bullets tore across the room.
One man went down, and his chest exploded in a shower of red; the other merely stumbled, a vicious snarl twisting his face as he continued his advance.
My next bullet slammed into his chest.
He stumbled and his sword clattered to the ground.
He dropped next.
And several of the still standing men took steps back.
Not forward.
O-kay. . .
Then, it was just silence again.
Terror-filled silence.
It stretched thin and taut across the room.
Many of the men gazed at the fallen bodies.
Horror rippled through the crowd.
