The Nothing Read Online Free PDF Page A

everyone ok, anyone hurt?”
    “We're not hurt, but we are very thirsty. Can we get out of here?” Regretfully Bentley couldn’t let them leave. “Unfortunately I need you to hang out here a while longer ‘till more help arrives. It doesn’t look safe outside. All I can say is to make yourselves at home. Get water or whatever you need from the bar.”
    Even though h e felt better, Bentley could see more people gathering outside, looking more agitated than before. He could faintly hear, “Thug with a badge,” and “Trigger happy pig fucker.” But hearing, “We can’t let him go,” put the gravity of the danger he faced right into the pit of his stomach. Anxiety weighed down Bentley’s shoulders and filled him with dread.
    While reaching to get his cell phone out again, he felt something, or someone, pull on the collar of his shirt and blow a quick breath on the left side of his neck. Felt almost sexy. Bentley missed the crack of a gunshot coming through the front window. The bullet missed his neck by two inches. He turned around expecting to see someone standing right next to him and saw flashes from outside the front window of the restaurant. Instant flashes that could only come from gun barrels. As soon as Bentley realized what was happening he dropped to the floor in the middle of the restaurant and pulled his gun out. Shots continued to whiz above him. Tables and Chairs were the only objects blocking him from the view of whoever was shooting. The snapping and cracking of bullets hitting tables, wood, and glass were in surround sound. Bentley’s breath wouldn’t slow down. His skin was on fire and he felt like he was floating on the floor of the restaurant. Like a bag of popcorn in the microwave, the pops were fast and frequent which eventually became slower and more spread out. You don’t stop the timer when the pops slow down because you want as much corn as possible to pop. Bentley kept hearing pops and there was no timer.
    God what is happening, what do I do next? I wish I were somewhere else. Please God perform some miracle or something because I don’t deserve to die like this! Please I’m sorry for whatever I did. Please turn back the clock!
    On his stomach, he moved his body around toward the bar counter in the back, and made the longest crawl he has ever made in his life. The space behind the counter seemed so far away. Bentley kept expecting to feel the pinch of a bullet entering his body. Question is where would he get hit? Fear consumed him. But adrenaline gave him the fuel to crawl as fast as he possibly could. His breath though extremely heavy, didn’t have any effect on the speed at which he was moving. His mind had disconnected from his body. Bentley had heard that being shot felt like a burning pinch. But how painful depended on which body part got hit and if you even knew it. You don’t want to get hit in the stomach or leg. The arm was the body part of preference for a man who has bullets flying at him. But if I am going to die, I want it to be quick. Give me a headshot or one straight through the heart. No face please. Of course I prefer to never find out!
    As Bentley got to the side of the counter, he saw a woman who was getting the water for the other hostages lying on the floor. He wasn’t able to tell if she was hit or if she was playing dead. Then he saw the blood beneath her. Reaching the rubber floor mats behind the counter brought a small sense of relief. Then like the ding of a popcorn timer, the volley of gunshots slowed to nothing.
    Bentley ma de a point to stay aware of the front door opening and listened for it. If they weren’t shooting, then maybe they were trying to get to a place where they could get better shots. Or they were getting ready to barge in. Shoe sweat and mildew coming from the rubber mat made him nauseous. But he forced the smell out of his mind and pulled his cell phone back out of his belt. The bars, still with the red circle with a line through it,