As soon as we throw ourselves into the living room Tears rolls behind the upside down couch, I jump behind the kitchen counter. There's another guy there. We scare each other and I shoot him first. He falls to the ground. I get my heart rate back in check and I realize I killed him. I curse. My instinct reacted faster than my head but in the end it was a good thing.
I try to push the guy's corpse out of the way and take a quick peek. A caliber 9 makes a hole in my forelock and I scream as I jump back down. A hail of bullets aimed in my direction, and then Tears rolls next to me, hiding with me.
- What the fuck did you scream for? - He bawls at me.
- They were trying to trim my hair! Excuse me if I'm shitting in my pants! -
I see him pull something out of his pocket and remove a latch with his teeth. He throws it over the counter and squats down.
An explosion and limbs come flying over us, crashing on the wall next to the refrigerator.
Rubble and plaster everywhere. I'm all disheveled.
- Where did you get those hand grenades!? -
- From the couch! -
- You keep your grenades in the sofa? What will I find in the oven, a tank? -
- Ssssh! -
I shut up and he beckons at me. He points at his eyes with two fingers, then he points over the wall, where the guys are.
- I don't understand, do you want me to put two fingers in your eyes in front of them? -
I know that he's holding back from killing me only because there would be one more to kill. He waves his head.
– Never mind, let's just go postal. Complex plans don't seem to work with you. -
- They do if you explain them to me. -
- You should understand them by yourself! -
- Sure, do you want me to read your mind? -
- Well I'm used to not having to tell my colleague what to do, okay? -
- Did you work with a medium? - But he doesn't listen to me, he leans over just to check on the situation. His eyes go wide and then he flattens himself down again. I throw myself down too only because Tears' huge hand chucks my face down on the floor.
An explosion.
I think I lost consciousness for a moment, just for one moment, because I don't remember Tears coming back up after throwing himself over me. My first memory is of him sitting on the floor and swearing while removing pieces of his kitchen from himself.
- W... what was it? -
- Heavy artillery. If they launch another one, with better aim, we're doomed. -
He's bleeding from his shoulder, but I'm intact. I see him rip up a kitchen towel with his teeth and bandage his shoulder with it.
- Is everything all right? - I ask.
- It's great! The house is destroyed and they're blocking our only way out, but it's all a piece of cake! - Then he swears and mutters under his breath. I take a quick glance. I see a dozen guys hiding between the staircase and the hoist. They take orders from a guy who is more or less my age, with black short spiky hair.
Tears checks the situation from my side too.
- Do you think we can make it? - I murmur.
- Honestly? I don't know. -
We get back behind the counter. - Now that's a relief. - I check how many bullets I have left in my Glock and reload the magazine.
Tears puts the SPAS back on pump mode. - But we can fight. And frankly, I'd rather fall while dancing. -
- Well, I'd rather be left standing, - I answer his “Die Hard” like quote. I might be less macho, but I want to die old.
- See, Princess, you won't be standing long even if you stay behind this counter. If they hit even one of those four supporting pillars with their heavy artillery everything here will collapse.
We both take another peek. We seldom react the same. - Fucking hell! - We say in unison, and we duck again.
From the dust caused by the last explosion a burly man armed with a Kalashnikov appears, and I think he's coming at us. I hear the guy I saw before giving orders. – Scatter around and pull them out from there, then kill them both. -
Tears checks the Beretta and loads it one last time. - So, shall we go? Are you ready? -
- W... wait... what if that guy shoots us with that sort of cannon? I'm not sure that... -
- Why do you always have to be so iffy? - Tears flips out.
A burst of submachine gun hits the wall. I curl up. Our hiding place won't hold for another one of those.
- We go on the count of three! - He says. Then, without counting, - THREE! - And he jumps out.
- IF THEY KILL ME, I WILL KICK YOUR ASS, TEARS! - I reload and get out, there I find Tears facing the burly man we saw just before.
He's grinning. - Oh, you're big alright! No worries, your falling body will just make more noise. -
Then everybody starts shooting.
****
A few minutes later I'm screaming my head off, scared to death.
We finally land on the ground floor and he lets go of me, then he retrieves his jacket from the hoist cables and, while I'm kissing the floor happy to be alive, he unclogs his ears. - You deafened me! -
- What made you think that jumping two floors down the elevator shaft would be a good idea!? Grabbing me without any warning, too! - I freak out.
- Well, idiot, it was the only way out! The stairs are packed with refugees! -
We are running to the garage to get the car.
- There you go! That's great! Just what we needed, fuck it! - He kicks the sliced Leon tires. They cut them all four, perfect.
- FUCK IT! - When Tears is pissed, he totally screws up. In a hysterical fit he slams his SPAS on the floor without realizing that one of those guys, probably the group's wanker, was guarding the car. I keep him at gunpoint, but he's already gotten Tears' SPAS and is holding it right at his chest.
- Freeze! - He says. But he doesn't sound very convincing. Tears look at the ceiling and snorts loudly.
- Yeah, sure, but first you have to put a bullet in the barrel. - He then kicks the SPAS barrel, throwing it in the air and catches it, loads it and then shoots. The guy ends up in tatters on the wall in front of us. – Like this, – he says.
The second, and hopefully last, guard is pointing his gun between my shoulder blades. Tears is still swearing over his tires, furiously scratching his head and thinking about what to do, and he's totally ignoring me.
I duck, a shot brushes my forelock. I rotate on my extended leg, but the refugee behind me jumps to avoid tripping. I get back up and find myself face to face with the guy, and I block his wrist. He ends up shooting at the ceiling. I press the release button and the magazine falls on the floor, then I kick it away. I hit the guy, who's still taken aback, with a punch in his jaw. And he falls on the floor.
- C'mon, Circus Smirkus, we have a problem here! - Tears yells at me.
- Excuse me for keeping myself alive! - I spit out.
- What, that wanker? -
- So, do we just run away on our feet? - I propose.
- Sure, you run while I kick you! -
- Never mind my trying to find a solution! They'll be here in a few seconds! - And these famous last words introduce the arrival of a dozen refugees coming from the stairs. I swear and hide behind a concrete column.
I rummage in my pockets while the first bullets graze my new hiding place. I lost track of Tears and I only have a dozen shots left.
We played our part fairly well, but we won't be able to get out of here alive.
That's what I'm thinking when a roaring rumble interrupts my line of thoughts. Tears' black Magnum pulls up short to my side. I gasp at the sight of the enormous Renault tractor unit. - Get in! - Tears yells at me from at least six feet above my head. I stammer something. The truck starts, I run around it and he almost runs over me. I cling on the handrails and bullets stick in the bodywork. I hear Tears yelling insults that I didn't even know existed. The steel watertight door that closes the garage is getting dangerously close. I climb up, I open the passenger door and try to get inside while bullets are whizzing in from every direction. While I wonder how the hell can I still be alive, the window right above me shatters to dust. - When did you come up with this plan, Tears? - I yell into the cab.
Tears shifts to the second gear and grabs the steering wheel as if he was in a rally race. - I'm improvising! Buckle up! -
I finally manage to get inside and shut the door while screaming in terror.
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