MURDER FIGHT: Part 3 (349 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.22 on 8 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by awj002 (View user info) at 2007-05-25 18:14:58 EDT
Part 2: http://www.ubersite.com/m/108641
**
In the center of the lunchroom, Ricky and the others flipped their table onto its side. Everyone with half a mind did the same. Trays crashed, food smeared everywhere. The overturned tables ran in five crooked trenches, crouching children laying in piles of mashed potatoes, their palms slipping on nachos. Everyone quickly took note of who they were vulnerable to, and who was vulnerable to them. Tom pulled a .45 from his belt, mostly to prevent it from jamming into his pelvis as he kneeled. He thumbed the safety off and showed it to the others in his trench. A few orchestra kids and some basketball players. They showed their empty hands. Fuck, he thought. What do your parents do, answer phones?
On the other side of the trench, Ricky and Tom heard Phil Barlow snap a clip into what soon proved to be a modified M16 assault rifle. How the hell did Phil get that inside? In his backpack, in pieces? Its barrel showed over the table, the forged front sight hovering just above Ricky's head. He, Tom and Reggie lay low as Phil took aim at a cluster of fleeing goths. There were four of them moving toward the double-doors—twenty-five feet from safety, twenty, ten. Phil led the front-runner by a hair and pulled the trigger, doubling him over with a shot to the gut. A second shot tore through his cheek. The kid behind him ran into him, knocking him over. Phil fired six more times, sometimes missing. He caught the third goth in the leg and chest, the fourth in the skull.
Tom moved when the firing stopped. Raising himself just enough to reach his pistol over the table, he put three rounds in Phil's chest. Phil screamed and gurgled. There were the screams and moans of the downed heavy-metalers, the quickened footsteps of the living. A moment of waiting. Ricky looked at Reggie, who remained still, then at Tom, who looked like he was going to make a move for the door. "Is it over?" Ricky whispered, barely aloud.
Tom cocked his head. "I don't know." They listened to the moaning. They felt vulnerable. And in the silence, a tiny sound—then a louder metallic thud like an iron softball hitting a table a couple trenches over. The kids there didn't even scream - Ricky heard them scrambling to their feet and running, diving like fuck-all. He didn't hear Kyle Wiezkowski pick up the grenade and wind up to chuck it toward the window; didn't hear anything but the chest-pummeling explosion that blew Kyle's upper half into a bony mush. Sticking around didn't seem like an option, anymore. Tom grabbed Ricky by the shirt and they took off running toward the doorway, Reggie trailing a few steps behind.
"Mother fucker," Ricky said, and it was just about the first time he'd sworn in public.
User Reviews
Submitted by Wildman (user info) at 2007-06-05 01:20:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Well Fuck Me!
Wrong post.
idiotman below
Submitted by Wildman (user info) at 2007-06-05 01:15:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Add more crazy, and believable, violence.
You were sooooo close in #3 which, by the way, was absolutely rock-solid writing.
Submitted by Barnymeinhoff (user info) at 2007-05-27 02:08:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2007-05-26 18:43:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
very odd.
vaguely reminiscent of Batal Royale
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2007-05-25 20:41:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
consistency
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2007-05-25 20:29:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
"Murder fight"
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-05-25 20:21:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Wildman (user info) at 2007-05-25 18:49:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1