Blood and Bullets

         Her hair is in a ponytail because blood in her hair makes her sick.  I can smell the anger on her, mixed with the sweat in a disgusting mixture.  The gun on her lap is loaded, dusty and old from no use.  But tonight it will be awakened, it’s bullets birthed, and it will create a masterpiece of death and destruction.

         I try to look out my window but the scenery is blocked by the foggy smoke.  Nicotine and weed, making my mind buzz crazily with thoughts.  My hand is laid calmly on my own pistol, long brown fingers wrapped around the grip enjoying the moment they can relax.

         Four of us altogether.  Me and her in the back, and our brothers in the front.  Not brothers by blood but brothers by war.  It’s dark outside, but the streetlights we pass illuminate the inside of the car.  With every quick flicker of light I see a new source of red.  A red bandana, a red hat, red shoelaces.  Red.  The color we have dedicated ourselves to, the color we battle for.

         Music pounds heavily in my ears as the car drives on.  No cars on the quiet street, so there’s no one to share our loud tunes with.  We ride quietly, not speaking to each other, lost in our own thoughts, and thinking of the fight ahead.

         Me and her send each other quick glances.  Fleeting thoughts of the sex we had so recently shared, and I can still smell the sweetness of it ebbing from her.  Her passion for me is still apparent and I know it shows from me as clearly as my skin.  I want her badly then, memories of my naked body gliding smoothly into her own.  I flash her a smile, something quick and false but it is not returned.  Not even a grimace, and my eyes return to my sightless window.

         The songs change but I do not notice.  Time is distorted dramatically, not by the drugs, but by the feeling of death breathing over my shoulder.  I don’t want to go.  I’m not afraid, but something doesn’t feel right.  The usual anxiety is not here, fear of dying is not present, and I feel as if I already know my fate, as if I am riding to my death.

         We pass the house.  I know it’s the place by the signs drawn on the walls.  Letters and numbers I do not understand, all representing the same thing.  We drive around the small house, not really a house just a place of business.  The windows are all dark, and there are no signs of life in the house.  We know someone is there, someone is always here.

         My brother whips the vehicle around the corner violently, making it seem as if we are just passing by.  The music is still blasting, now playing a song of violence, pumping up my adrenaline, and resonating through the shadowed neighborhood.  No people on the streets, just us in the car, and a few flickering streetlights.

         We park the car a distance from the house, but at a position that we can see it.  The music is turned down, and now the only sound that can be heard are the soft pulls of cigarettes. 

         “So we kill everybody?”  She asks.

         “Yes,” we all reply at the same time.

         “Kids too?”

         “It’s a fucking den, not a vacation home,” the driver says.

         “She was just asking,” I say, and he snorts as if irritated.

         “There are no kids in there.  Just dead men,” the boy in the passenger seat says, and I cannot remember his name because I have never worked with him before.

         “They are just as alive as we are,” I tell him.  “Don’t fuck this up.”  And those were the last words.  We could all feel the tension building, and knew it was time to go and retrieve our lost brother.

         We jumped from the car, slamming the doors behind us.  The clicks and clacks of pistols being checked were heard above the steady hum of streetlights.  The cool night air felt good on my skin.  Better than the hot, thick smoke in the car.

         I yank back the slide, and aim the pistol at the house, imagining a scowling face in my sight.  It’s been a long time since I have killed anyone.  I wish it could stay that way, but it can’t.  It’s been two days since our brother has been missing, and now we know where he is.

         The anxiety begins to kick in as we get closer to the house and I feel a little more comfortable.  Every fight, shootout, and any other violent experience I had witnessed ran through my mind.  I tried to remember it all, I needed to or I would slip up and die in this place.

         The sidewalk was littered with cigarette filters, and small pieces of glass.  Our feet crunched through the sea of trash as we snuck up on the building.  The house grew more dark and ominous as we got closer, and shadows leaked from its walls like tar.

         We crept on the side of the house as planned, crouching beneath a window.  My hands were already sweating from fear, but it felt good to be afraid of something.  It was better than the feeling of death creeping so close, better than being able to see my inevitable fate so close at hand.  She was behind me, and I felt her hand touch my back softly, trembling slightly, and my muscles flinched at her touch.  Images of her nails digging into my back in pleasure struck me hard and I had to fight them away.  Those thoughts wouldn’t help me in any way at the moment, maybe later, but not now.

         I turned around and touched her hand, letting her know I was there.  She stopped trembling so much and finally returned my smile.  Those sweet, pink lips curling towards her deep brown eyes made me shiver.  Her pale skin glowed, even in the shadows and I forced my head around to keep her from my thoughts. 

         My two brothers marched on in front of me, whispering and motioning for us to keep up with their quick pace.  They were eager for the action, volunteering for the job while I was chosen.  Chosen because I had to be such a fucking professional.  I would let them take the lead this time.  I would keep her and myself safe.

         The backyard was neat and clean, keeping any curious eyes away.  A wooden door with no windows blocked our view of the house.  “Can one of you pick this?”  Someone whispered in the dark.

         I felt her body brush me, and I let her pass.  She got work to immediately, someone shining a phone over hands.  A few minutes went by before we heard a click.  A loud noise that froze us all in our tracks.  Maybe someone had heard the sound.  We stood with our guns pointed at the door.  No one came.

         She broke our fear and pushed the door open, pointing the barrel of her gun into the shadows of the house.  I pushed past the other two, ignoring their annoyed grunts and followed her into the darkness.

         It was darker than I expected, and I blinked to adjust my eyes to the black.  A little light from outside filtered in through the open door and I could make out small signs of a kitchen.  A lopsided table, what looked to be cups on a counter, and a smell of recently cooked food.

         I touched her back quietly, letting her know I was there.  “Just keep moving,” I whispered in what I assumed was her ear.

         She didn’t respond, but kept on moving into a new part of the house.  The air became more humid, and I wished I had left the jacket I wore in the car.  There was no light in this room, and we all stopped, the only thing moving was the breath coming from our mouths.

         “Give me a light!”  I hissed to the two behind me.

         There was no time to respond.  The room lit up with light that stung my eyes forcing them closed.  “Grab them Mikael!”

         Mikael?  Our brother?  What was going on?  I open my eyes quickly, annoyed at the black blobs in my vision.  I could make out shapes, human shapes with weapons in their hands, and I registered them immediately as the enemy.

         Were they a rival gang?  Local den dealers?  I didn’t know but I let my weapon fire.  All of the violent experiences released and I squeezed the trigger, aiming at the nearest shape in my vision.  My pistol blasted, spitting out fire and power that threw my arm back.  The familiar recoil felt good to my muscles and I fired again, hearing both bullets strike the body with sickening impact.

         My comrades followed my lead, firing their weapons with poor precision, sometimes finding targets and other times missing by far.  My vision returned slowly, and I saw a few dead bodies surrounded by living men and women with guns.  We were surrounded, still firing our weapons, but they had guns too, and they fired them.

         The first bullet struck her in the shoulder, knocking her back into my chest.  Some of her blood splattered onto my face, and the rage kicked in.  I threw her behind me, wincing as she screamed in pain.  I would apologize later.  Bullets rushed past me and I fired back, killing two women.  Who were these people?

         My two brothers jumped in front of me valiantly, firing into the crowd of bodies.  Bullets came towards them, striking one in the throat and the other in the head.  They died instantly, their limp bodies falling at my feet.  It was just me and her now.

         I cursed under my breath, and the only thought was escaping.  I turned around and pushed her ahead of me, back into the kitchen.  She ran without hesitation and I followed.  “Mikael!  Grab him!”

         And I made the mistake of turning around.  A bullet caught me in the chest, pushing me back.  I hit the ground hard, losing the wind from my chest.  I looked back at her, reaching my hand out for her help.  It never came.  I saw her eyes meet my own and I knew then she was leaving me.  I grimaced at the sudden pain that struck my heart, not from the bullet but from the love lost.

         Someone grabbed my foot, and I looked up to see Mikael’s face.  Her own brother.  Her real brother.  And I thought maybe betrayal runs in the blood.  Other faces popped up around his and I recognized people we had so recently killed.  How were they still living?  Even their wounds were still bleeding.

         “I know this one!”  Mikael exclaimed.  “He’s more of a soldier than the two dead ones.”

         Suddenly the crowd of faces dispersed and two more appeared over me.  Blood was seeping from my chest fast, and I realized death was close after all.  My vision was returning to darkness, and I couldn’t make out any of the figures standing above me.

         “Keep him alive, and give him the drug as soon as possible,” a woman’s raspy voice said.

         “And my sister?” Mikael asked.

         “She’ll come looking for us, and we’ll make ourselves some more soldiers.”

         And I sighed as my life left me.