While I was doing this, Juan went out of the room. I thought, Shit, I got to get it together and keep it together. Here I am in my head and outside my head the world is moving on.
“I’ll go with him,” I said.
And I was out the door and going down the hall, could see Juan’s back as he turned the corner into the room where I had met the guy I thought was the Headmaster. I was almost to the door when I heard Headmaster yell at me.
“Hey, I tell you to go anywhere?”
I didn’t look back, said, “What’s it matter?”
“It matters ’cause I say so,” Headmaster said, in that way of his that lets you know even when it isn’t important, he wants you to know he’s the swinging dick of the operation.
I looked in the room, and there behind the desk was Hummy, guy I thought originally was the Headmaster, and was probably his replacement. One day, the Headmaster would look south and a bullet would come from the north, probably out of Hummy’s gun.
Or that’s the way it might have gone over had I not decided to change everyone’s plans. I was the fucking fly in the ointment, the crab in the ass. I was gonna mess things up worse than a politician.
Headmaster yelled at me again, told me to stop. I shifted the AK-47 to my left hand and pulled out the automatic and turned and looked at him and Billy, and then I fired. I was a good shot, and I was proud of that, because my first shot caught Headmaster between the eyes. He went down so fast, it was impossible to believe it. Billy-blood and brains from Headmaster splattered across his cheek-tried to pull up the rifle he had in his hand, but I shot him through the heart before he got it lifted. Then I was in the room with Hummy by the time Billy hit the floor.
Juan had already gone through and was at the far door. He had turned, drawn the automatic he had. Now there were guns coming out from under coats, and out of pockets, and from behind the desk. Juan fired twice and the shots slammed into the door frame. I shot at him once, but missed. Then I stuck the pistol in my belt, almost casual-like, switched the AK-47 to my right hand and lifted it firing, bullets going all over the place, crazy-like.
I hit a couple of the guys and one of the girls, and they did a kind of hop and a twist, like they were grooving at a party. There was blood everywhere and people were going down. I felt something hot in my side and I shot Hummy a bunch of times. Then I was walking, just straight out, not thinking about anything but killing, feeling the fire in my side, but not thinking much of it. I walked right through, whipping the weapon left and right, mowing flesh.
As I reached the far open door, I saw they were coming for me-maybe twenty guys, couple of the girls, but there were some holding back. The ones coming had weapons, all handguns, and when they opened up the world went crazy and my ears went deaf, then began to ring. And I don’t remember it all, but the bullets cut all around me. One went through my left arm and it hurt like hell. The next thing I knew, it was hanging at my side and I got the AK-47 lifted, pushed up against my hip, and I was rockin’ and rollin’ and bodies were jumping. I was having a better day than they were. Probably because they couldn’t hit an elephant in the ass at ten paces with a tossed bar stool, even spraying. Luckiest motherfucker ever squatted to take a dump over a pair of shoes, ’cause except for that one hit, I was doing good. It was like I was fucking charmed.
I saw my bullets jerk B.G. and Rhino around and take them apart; a lot of the others, they went down too.
I started walking sideways, along the wall, and came to the counter where the shoes used to be given out, slid behind that. I kept firing and their shots kept coming. The wood on the counter jumped and splintered. The shoe racks behind me came apart, and I wasn’t hit again. I just kept pushing the AK-47 up against me, firing.
I was almost to the door and could see that the bodies were heaped. And there was that damn Juan, still alive. I pulled the trigger on the AK-47 again, but it was empty. Then I remembered that I had picked up another clip, but couldn’t load it with only one hand working. So I dropped the AK-47, pulled the pistol, and fired one shot that didn’t hit anyone. I heard the lead bounce off a bowling ball, and then I was at the door. I ran out of there, my arm dangling at my side like a puppet that had lost a string.
It was cool outside for a change and there was a thin rain blowing in my face as I ran. I felt a little dizzy, but for the most part, things were all right. The colors of the night, lit up by distant lights, were mostly shades of black and gray. I was glad there were no streetlights, because I got behind a parked car, dropped behind it, and lay on my belly. I looked under it and down the street at the bowling alley. As I was lying there, I felt the AK-47 clip sticking in my stomach. I lifted up, pulled it out of my belt, and left it on the concrete. I touched my pocket; the extra load for the automatic was gone. It must have fallen out of my pocket. I looked around under the car for it, and then I saw that it was lying in the street between the car and the bowling alley. I hadn’t stuck it in good, and it had gotten bumped out. I felt like an idiot.
After a while the door opened a crack, and a head poked out-and then another, and then one other. They looked my direction first, then the other direction. I wondered how many were still in there. I had pretty much wiped out the crop of the gang, scared the shit out of the others. Only thing I hadn’t done was blow up their meth lab, which was in a little house down the street from the bowling alley. Some of the gang were there, but, way I felt, they were going to get away. Maybe I’d come back and get them too, just for the hell of it. Kill them all and blow the place up and piss in the ashes.
I kept watching. I saw the heads move, and then the guys were out in the street. Another guy showed, and then a girl. She had long black hair, and I even noted she had a good figure. I thought that was funny; here I am, lying on the ground, people wanting to kill me, one of them that girl, and I’m taking note of her tits and ass.
They all had guns. Handguns. I could see them moving them around in the dark. Altogether, there were five of them. Three of them broke off and went the opposite way, and then the other two-Juan, limping a little, and the girl-started my way. They saw the clip I had dropped, and Juan stopped, bent down, and picked it up.
They looked back for the others, but they had long gone. At least it was just these two who knew which direction I had gone.
It was all I could do to make myself move. The concrete felt good and cool. I lifted up on my hands and knees. When I did, I could hear the sticky blood that had run out of me make a Velcro sound; it had dried enough to stick me to the cement. I realized then that I hadn’t been as charmed as I thought. I had been hit a couple of times, but not anywhere too bad, or so I hoped. I did feel a little light-headed.
I backed up on hands and knees a few paces, then backed into an alley and hoped it wasn’t a dead end. It wasn’t. I went along it and tried not to breathe too heavy or too loud. I looked up. The sky was just a kind of slick glow. There were no lights where I was, but the city lights licked the sky like that and gave it this gauzy look. I thought of where I had lived when Dad and me moved away from here. There you could see the sky and at night you could hear crickets and frogs and there were tall trees.
I went over a grating. When I did, steam came out of it like devil’s breath, and I jumped a little. I went on and around a corner, then started feeling as if someone had opened up a spigot in my heel and the soul of me was running out of it.