Blood Soaked and Invaded - 02 (44 page)

Riley moved the gun away from me for an instant, attention drawn away from me by the untimely explosion of her teammate. I only needed an instant to come up off the floor, punctured lungs repaired, and take her gun arm out of commission.

Her arm was locked into my armpit when I dropped onto my knees, shifting my left arm around hers just enough to shatter her elbow when I hit the ground. She screamed bloody murder, and it was celestial symphonies to my ears. I stuck my right index and middle fingers up her nostrils, much like the first time she and I had words.

She tried to bat my hand down, just like before. She kicked around, just like before, too. It didn’t do any good, if anything it re-broke her elbow as it tried to heal.

“I think I told you that if you fucked with me or my people I’d hunt you down and kill you myself. Didn’t I?” I stared down into her eyes.

“I can’t die now, fucker,” she spat back at me.

“No?”

“We’re immortal! I’ll keep coming back. I’ll save the world!”

I was impressed. The woman was thoroughly crazy–bonkers–special, funky, bat-shit crazy. I nodded at her, and decided to give her theory a little try.

“Tell you what, Red, I’ll make you a bet.” I removed my fingers from her nose. “If you don’t die, I’ll let you go. If you die, well, it won’t matter to you at all. Shall we have a go?”

“Let’s go, you son of a genocidal maniac!” Oh, how she smiled at me!

“Let’s!”

My right hand slipped into the shape of a double-edged blade, and I cut her head off with a single stroke. I stood up, dropped her body, and kicked her head across the floor with surprising gentleness. Her eyes blinked at me, and her mouth tried to form words.

“You. Fucker. I. Will. Live.” Those were the words I caught as her mouth moved.

“Let’s see, Siobhan. Let’s see.” I held up my left hand, and someone tossed me an Arlington Super Secret Standard Sidearm. “Here we go, honey lamb!” I took aim, right between her bulging eyes and pulled the trigger.

I won the bet.

Exhaling every pent-up breath I held inside, I turned around. Major Kenney and the surviving members of Group Alpha stood around us like high-tech black chessmen. Shawn had a hold on Rebecca Howard-Spence. Chunhua holstered her weapon and cracked her knuckles.

For just a few moments I enjoyed the silence.

“We’re done here, Major. Burn the rest of this shit and get us a ride home. Shawn? Bring your friend along–I think she might have a redeeming quality or two. Kill her if I’m wrong.”

“I hear you, bro.”

I nodded at him–pleased we were on the same page–before I took one last look around at the carnage. There was blood everywhere, burnt to black on molten metal, now cooling. Parts of bodies were strewn about, and I didn’t give a shit. They weren’t my anatomical accessories, didn’t belong to anyone I cared about.

Story of my life.

“Right. We’re done here. Let’s go home. There are things that need doing.”

James Crawford is an artist, graphic designer, amateur bladesmith and subversive suburbanite when no one else is looking. He lives in the Washington, DC area with his wife, pursues hobbies that pay off in cuts, burns, tendonitis, full sketchbooks, and the occasional freaky idea. Once in a while, those freaky ideas refuse to die and shamble off to create lives of their own.

The author would like to thank friends and family for their support as this project evolved over time. In particular he would like to thank Rachael Fink for her editing, commentary, and extensive understanding of the Southern female psyche.

To you: if you like
Blood Soaked and Contagious
, recommend it to your friends via your favorite social media outlets and in person.

Credit for the cover image design goes to Karen Fletcher at
Karen Fletcher Design
.

Connect with me online:

My blog:
http://www.bloodsoakedandwriting.com

Twitter:
Crawford4033