Find Snippet 1 here.
In scoping out the bar, I hadn’t even noticed a pair of drunks who’d been snoring in their drinks. As Amanda went for the jar, the two of them popped up from their table, any pretense of drunken stupor gone, drawing submachine guns from inside their coats.
The bartender had already brought up a saiga shotgun, and I was drawing my pistol aimed at him, even as Sam snatched up a heavy beer mug and threw it hard.
The mug struck the end of the bartender’s shotgun and spun it around just as he squeezed the trigger. The shotgun blast caught both of the fake-drunks: a heavy slug ripping through the back of the one, out his chest, and into the front of the other, both of them tumbling, opening fire in death with their sub-guns, the roar of gunfire deafening in the small space.
Sam’s hand came down on my shoulder and he spun me around, the world seeming to slow as he let me see a bit of how he perceived the world.
I could see the gunfire from the two dying men scythe into a group at a booth to my side, bullets from the dying men cutting through the three people there. Any horror I might have felt was stilled by a combination of Sam’s perfect vision and the realization that all three in that booth were armed, weapons falling from their hands as they, too died.
My partner was still in the process of grabbing for the fence who still had the urn or vase or whatever it was clutched in his arms. At the sound of gunfire, Amanda Ashburn transformed her grab into a dive to the floor. At the far end of the bar, the two patrons who’d been trying to get the bartender’s attention had drawn weapons, too. Seriously, is no one in here what they seem to be?
Under other circumstances, I would have gone for cover myself, but Sam’s hand held me in place like an iron bar. I wasn’t sure if he was simply that confident of protecting me or if he just wanted me to watch his handiwork.
The two pistoleers at the end of the bar were shooting at Amanda, the bartender, and maybe at me. Sam didn’t even move, he just smirked at them as the bartender, still spinning from the impact, continued his spin as he fired off the rest of his magazine, one shot blasting the top off a beer tap, spraying both men in the face and throwing their aim off.
The bartender’s third shot caught one of the men in the throat and sent him backwards, while the fourth shot caught the other in the chest. The bartender’s fifth shot went into a beer keg, blowing the top off and sending the beer tap rocketing back into his face, snapping his head back and dropping him back behind the bar, either dead or unconscious.
Eight people had died in as many seconds or less. Under other circumstances, I would have been horrified. With Sam, the only noteworthy thing was that all of these people had been armed and something of a threat to me and that he hadn’t leveled the whole place.
He let go of my shoulder, “You and your partner should leave, now, Ari. Before things get too wild.” He said it with a calm cheerful smile, as if he would quite like it for us to stay longer.
I moved. Amanda had rolled to her feet, protectively clutching the bag of money to her chest with her right hand while she had her gun out with her left. She didn’t flinch as I rushed over to her and the pair of us sprinted to the door.
On our way out, I shot one glance over to the corner, where the five I had noticed were still seated, watching us. They’d made no hostile move, but the woman with the spider tattoo watched us leave with cold eyes.
Without knowing why, I could tell that she was sizing us up. The violence and bloodshed that had just happened didn’t matter to her in the slightest. The attackers who’d just died were as unimportant to this woman as the lives of insects.
Sam joined us, appearing at my side and falling into step with me as we got out into the street and headed for my car. “Oh, Ari, the next few days are going to be so much fun…”