A broken vending machine, the lightbulbs that would be burned out by this point in time shattered to pieces, glass mysteriously vacant from the scene. This is where I found myself upon exiting the house. The sunlight glistened off something stuck in the compartment that the beverages would be dispensed from. On impulse, I reached into the slot and wrapped my fingers around the unopened, untouched bottle of a swill named Sunset Sarsaparilla (or, at least what I could piece together from the faded logo, I could be wrong).
I popped the cap off, letting it fall to the ground, and took a sip from the bottle. Sweet, almost sickeningly so, but tasted decent nonetheless. At some point, I decided the outside of a dilapidated gas station, boarded up with likely rusty nails was the perfect place to relax and try to regather my bearings. So, I leaned my back against the dirty wall and close my eyes before taking yet another drink of the soda. I opened my eyes to the sound of footsteps, and saw that I was surrounded by three men wearing what looked to be re purposed prison uniforms and incredibly hostile demeanors.
This is how I met Joe Cobb.
"Outta the way lady, or things'll get real ugly, real fast," he said, gripping onto my shirt and pulling me closer to him before shoving me down the ground. I landed on the ground, crushing the bottle against my arm and the ground. As could be expected, the bottle exploded in a flurry of glass, most of which dug its way into my forearm, and as it scraped against the ground I couldn't help but notice the streak of blood that already stained the broken slab of cement I was on.
"It looks like it was already ugly," I hissed out as I clutched my bleeding arm, gnashing my teeth at him the second he turned his attention from the door. One of the men made his way over to me, and kicked me in the ribs, sending me rolling onto my back, clutching the now sore spot while simultaneously trying to catch my breath.
"The fuck did you just say lady?" The next thing I knew, Joe Cobb was standing over me. His two armed henchmen took their places, one on each side of him, the one that kicked onto my back trying to stifle an urge to burst out in laughter. Cobb's scowl intensified, and hand gripped and ungripped the grip of the revolver in his holster. He nodded to the still smirking henchman, who chuckled before backing up and hitting me with another kick to the side that rolled me back over onto my stomach. Cobb's foot stomped down on my back, and I could hear the click of the hammer of the revolver cocking back. "I'm waiting: answer me."
There went my nerve, stomped into the ground. I couldn't see where the gun was aimed at, but I knew full well who was on the wrong end of the barrel. I remember trying to trigger something, anything that would get me out of this situation. By that, I of course mean that I attempted to provoke a shift in personality; a nervous habit. A terrible habit to fall into, especially when it fails miserably and you're left lying on the ground with a gun pressed to the back of your head.
"Do you want the truth, or do you want me to think up a lie just so you can reveal that you understood me perfectly the first time around and that this asking is only supposed to kill time until the eventual cavalry arrives and tells you in kinder words to fuck off?" I really wasn't in the mood to deal with this guy's bullshit, as you could probably tell. Cobb stood silent, dumbfounded by my response before putting more weight on the foot pressed into my back.
"You think this is a fuckin' game?"
"Well um, yeah..."
"What the hell is going on out here?" spoke a voice from behind Cobb, coming out of the building. Cobb's foot left my back and he spun around 180 degrees, only to see the man he was going after in the first placed pointing his 9 mm pistol right at the back of the henchman standing to Cobb's left.
His name was Ringo. Emphasis on the - was.
"Well, if it ain't the little bitch who hightailed it all the way here. You really think we wouldn't find you?" Cobb asked, slowly pulling his pistol away from me and towards Ringo. I used this momentary distraction (as both henchmen took their eyes off me as well) to get to my feet. My eyes locked with Ringo's, and as they did he motioned for me to leave. Yeah, didn't really follow that order. Instead, I slapped the crony who was in Ringo's sight and as he turned around, Ringo took his shot.
Blood spattered out of the man's chest, splashing onto my face and clothes. The second crony spun around and shoved the barrel of a shotgun right into my stomach. Our eyes met, and a smile washed over his face. Cobb fired at Ringo, hitting him in stomach. As he crumpled up and collapsed onto the ground, Cobb turned his sights back to me.
"Do it," he barked at the man who with one flinch could eviscerate me right then and there. No reaction. "Come on you fucking idiot, do it!" he yelled again, and as he yelled this, he aimed his smoking revolver not at me, but at him.
"You fuckers can't do anything right..." he muttered as he shoved the barrel against the man's temple. With the tables now turned against him, the man finally burst into action, spinning around and tried to jam the barrel of the gun into Cobb's midsection. Alas, all was for naught, as Cobb didn't hesitate to pull the trigger right then and there, leaving half of the man's head little more than a red and gray splatter on the cement. The man's body dropped to the ground and landed with a thud.
"As for you," he snarled, grabbing onto my wrist. "You're gonna come with me to meet the rest of my friends."
I did not like where this was going, however out of fear of getting the same treatment his "friend" just received, I didn't make my issues with this change of plans known. At this point, I had no idea what exactly he meant by that statement and instantly assumed it to be much more sinister than what actually occurred.
Mainly because I have no idea what would've happened because I didn't go with him. I ran.
Fast.
Sure, he fired at me, but to miss a target that started so close? He had some severe accuracy problems.
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