Unkillable Read Online Free PDF Page B

inch of back down. For the first time in my life I sensed weakness and fear in another – weakness and fear that I had caused – and I liked it. I advanced towards him with open arms. His eyes grew wide and he turned to flee. I fired two shots into his back. What? It’s not like that fucking Obscuristani wouldn’t have done the same to me if he had the chance.
    As his body slumped to the floor, I felt something… no, not felt exactly. A thought had me. But it was interrupted by the rhythmic sound of flesh slapping flesh. I spun, and there was the man with the snake tattoo. He was applauding.
    “Bravo,” he said through a thick accent, “You kill girl. You kill bodyguard. This is impressive? No. But I applaud to make you feel better. Because now you will die.”
    I wanted to say something cool. You know, like they did in the movies. But nothing came to mind. The image of the bodyguard falling to the ground was all I could think of. And why? I stepped into the light. I showed the man with the snake tattoo my mangled face and body and said, “No, you die.”
    It did not have the intended effect. He did not recoil in horror. And I wanted it. I so wanted him to piss himself. To be afraid. To beg for his life as I had begged in the alley the night before -- shit had it been the night before, or was it two nights ago? It was all so blurry and confusing.
    “Wait a minute,” the Slav said with a note of genuine surprise and joy in his voice, “I know you. I have killed you before?”
    “You don’t remember?” I yelled.
    “I kill lot of people. It is not personal,” he said in a way that sounded like he was genuinely sorry for being rude. What was this guy’s deal?
    “Don’t worry. You’ll remember this time.” I raised the gun and pointed it at him.
    “No, no,” he said, but not in the begging way a person might say “no, no, stop, don’t.” He waved me in, “Closer, get closer, you don’t want to miss.”
    I had no idea what was going on, so I pulled the trigger. BANG! BANG! Two shots into his chest. He did a strange little twist, as if he was shaking it off, and then he giggled. Giggled? “Now is my turn!” He said with all the glee of a child playing a game. He pointed his gun at me and pulled the trigger. I felt a bullet hit my chest.
    So I shot him again. We stood there firing back and forth into each other maybe six or seven times each. Neither of us falling down. Why wouldn’t this warm-blood drop? Why wouldn’t he die? It was all happening very fast, and I just couldn’t figure it out.
    When my gun went click, he said, “Oh goody, now I get to shoot you in the head.” He started walking towards me. Then he stopped and coughed. When he opened his hand a bullet dropped to the floor. “Maybe I cannot kill you, but I am sure you will be much less trouble without a face.”
    Then a shotgun blast destroyed the door to the main part of the club. Men in body armor charged in. They were all shouting. Not exactly the same thing, but close enough. All a variation on, “Police! Drop the weapon! Lie down on the floor! DOWN ON THE FLOOR NOW!”
    Now what was I going to? The Slav who refused to die, looked at me and said, “You should not make deals with Rats. How did you think it would work out? Good for you?”
    If my spine could have gotten any colder, a chill would have run down it. How screwed was I? What could I do? And what were the cops going to say when they arrested a dead guy?
    “This is your last warning, LIE DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW!”
    I winked at the Slav, and did what came natural. I fell to the floor and played dead.

    * * * * *

    Chapter 8
     
    The detective pushed his long brown hair back across the top of his head and said, "But, I'm tired of talking to your lawyer, Vlade." Everything about the detective looked tired. He even had beat up shoes. When you're lying on the ground, pretending to be dead, you spend a lot of time looking at people's shoes. "How about you just tell me what