Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Coming Soon! Murray Pura's "Silver City-V3-AMARILLO BY MORNING"! READ Chapter 1 RIGHT NOW!!!!!
“It’s working!” his brother snapped back. “What do you have to complain about? I’m the one that’s hurting.”
“We shouldn’t have dumped the truck.”
“We had to dump the truck and go cross-country. All it would do now is make us more of a target.”
Grayden stumbled. “Pitch black!”
“I’m glad for pitch black. They can’t see us.”
Voices carried to them through the night and they both crouched and froze.
“It’s our land!” a man cried out. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time,” another man growled.
“Leave my kids alone. Leave my wife alone.”
There was the sound of a blow. A young girl yelled, “Dad!” and there was another blow. She did not yell again.
“What’s going on?” hissed Grayden.
“That’s no family argument.”
“We have to keep going, little brother. We have to clear these fields before the sun is up or you might as well paint bull’s eyes on our chests.”
Grayden crawled to the right on his elbows and knees, moving quickly and silently.
In a minute he reached a hollow where a large tent had been pitched next to a camper. A fire was at orange embers and near to the fire were three young girls, the oldest maybe 13 or 14, the youngest 8 or 9, a young woman in her 30s, and a man with a straw cowboy hat who had fallen to his knees. The 13 year old was bleeding from the mouth. About seven men in black stood around them.
“Will you leave it?” hissed Ty.
“It’s a kill team.”
“I know it’s a kill team. Sent out here to find and kill us.”
“And they found this family instead.”
“You know that’s not going to happen.”
“What I know is civilian casualties happen every day and it’s too bad but if we don’t move they’re going to nail us next.”
“Okay. Pop them.” One of the kill team jerked his head at the girls. “Then the parents.”
Grayden drew his pistol.
So did Ty. And shoved it into the back of Grayden’s head.
“Are you nuts?” demanded Grayden in a harsh whisper.
“No, you are,” seethed Ty. “You shoot and they’ll turn all their guns on us.”
“Not if you get off three or four quick shots to my half dozen. We can take them down.”
“Can’t chance it.”
“I won’t miss. Neither will you.”
“Nope. No can do. There’s too much riding on us. We have to stay alive.”
“I can’t just crawl away and pretend I never saw this.”
“You can and you will.” Ty dug the barrel of his pistol into Grayden’s skin and bone. “In case you hadn’t noticed the silencer is on my pistol.”
“So you’re going to blow the back of my head off quietly?”
“No, I’m going to hit you so hard with the silencer I’ll knock it off quietly. You’ll go to sleep until after the kill team has moved on.”
“Is that what you think?”
“On your knees like your old man.” One of the kill team pushed the wife down. “Everyone goes together.”
Grayden spat exactly like his brother. “You screwed up just one thing.”
“What one thing did I screw up?”
Grayden slammed his elbow into his brother’s face twice.
“I’m still Zorro.”
He fired once into the air, startling the kill team, stopping the man who had his pistol to the 13 year old’s head, and drawing all seven guns from the family to him and his brother and the flash from his SIG 45’s barrel.
“Well, just great, little brother!” yelled Ty, aiming his pistol into the hollow and squeezing the trigger. “So who am I? Zorro’s sidekick Bernardo?”
The kill team opened fire and bullets cut through the grass and brush like hot knives.
“Bernardo was mute. Which you’re not.” Grayden’s SIG blazed. “Maybe one of the horses. Phantom or Tornado.”
“I have a better idea.” Ty pulled out another pistol, jumped to his feet, and charged the kill team, limping and staggering and stumbling, both guns blasting. “Fill your hands!”
“Oh, for pity’s sakes!” Grayden jumped up and charged beside his brother. “John Wayne! And you call me old school!”
The father yelled at his daughters and wife to lie flat as the kill team started falling all around them with bullet holes in their heads and throats.
He saw the bullet strike one of them men running down the slope.
And spin him around.
Ty faced his brother, blood pouring from his mouth, fighting to stay on his feet.
“Wyatt Earp,” he choked out the words. “I should’ve been Wyatt Earp. No bullet even nicked him.”
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