Armed
Copyright 2015 Jose Hernandez
Table of Contents
Copyright
Table of Contents
Armed
About Jose Miguel
What’s to come…
It’s Only the Beginning
Brian fell into the aged couch. A slight cloud of dog hair bounced into the air. The young, nerdy boy slipped off his shoes. With his shoes still dangling from his toes, Brian slung them at the coffee table. He glared at the one that had fallen short. Glass shattered in the kitchen. Elena swore under her breath. She grabbed the broom and dustpan still swearing over her accident.
“Get your shoes out of the living room,” she howled. “I just cleaned in there.”
He did what he was told hoping to avoid any more of his sister’s wrath. He returned to the couch. He flicked on the television. Brian scanned through the channels hoping to find something interesting, but nothing was on. Glass clanked together as Elena chunked the shards.
Tires squealed against the pavement as a black Tahoe spun into the driveway. Brain looked back at his sister. She stood at the sink scrubbing away at the dried food on a metal pot fussing with every swipe. A man stepped out of the blacked-out SUV and stormed toward the house. The stranger grabbed the handle to the glass door, swung it open, and swooped into the home with his gun pointed at Brian.
“May I help you?” Brian asked. He looked over at his sister who was just as calm as him. The gun did not seem to bother her, but then again, she did not have it pointing at her.
“Where is your father?” the man asked.
“He stepped out,” Elena said. “It’s sad really. He won’t get the opportunity to enjoy your visit.”
“Don’t worry little girl. Your father and I will see each other soon enough.”
“I don’t think so,” Brian said. The man glared from brother to sister.
The glass door finally crept closed startling the stranger. He spun about. Brian slid over the couch’s arm while the man was distracted, reached into an undisturbed basket of books, pulled out a gun, and slid for cover. The stranger took the first shot splintering the wall inches from Brian’s head. “Elena, are you okay?”
“No, I just”—she threw dad’s favorite butcher knife—“cleaned the damn living room, and you are going to start shooting up the place?”
“I didn’t take the first shot.” Brian leaned around the corner and shot. “Our guest did that.”
A few rounds flew overhead damaging anything the stray bullets touched.
“Damn it! Stop shooting!” Two more knives flew toward the armed man. Brian laid against the cold tile floor, placed his feet against the wall, and pushed himself into the open room. He slid past the couch and skidded to a stop. Brian fired at the surprised intruder. The man fell to the ground. Blood pored from his shoulder and thigh.
“Nice shot sis,” Brian called out. A knife rested in the man’s thigh.
“Let me at him”—she nudged her brother out of her way—“I’m going to cut his ass into pieces.”
Brian grabbed her shoulder. She spun about and snarled at him. Elena’s anger melted into fear.
“Let’s not be mean to our guest,” Brian said with a smile.
“I-I know you,” the man mumbled as he attempted to remove the knife. “E-Elena the Ch-Chopper. You are well known l-little girl, but I had no idea you were so young.”
“Who knew you had such a rep little sis?” She forced a smile.
“Don’t sell yourself short big brother.” She blocked her lips from her brother and leaned closer to the stranger. “You would have never known this, but he is the Ghost of the South.”
The stranger’s jaw flung open. His eyes grew wider as they slowly rolled to Brian. Brian’s face mirrored the strangers as he looked over at his sister. Brian thought no one knew of his identity except one—now three. The stranger wobbled to his toes and then stumbled to the couch to take a seat.
“What have I gotten myself into?” He asked.
“Why are you here for our dad?” Elena asked. “You better have a good reason.”
“I was not given one. It was just a job. Retrieve the father and terminate the children and wife. The agen—“
Brian grabbed his sister and they both fell to the ground as a bullet slipped through the man’s skull ejecting brains and blood across the rooms. The two siblings scuttled for cover from the projectiles.
“Are you okay?” Brian asked.
“I should be,” she said. Elena grabbed her side. Blood stained her hand and shirt. “It’s just a flesh wound. Do you have a plan?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere at the moment.” She placed pressure on her wound. “But you can go to my room. In my closet is an escape hatch to the backyard. If you are clear, find the shooter and take him out. If you are as good as the ghost stories I hear, big brother, then you will have no problem taking that creep out.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a gun in that closet of yours would you?”
“No, I like knives, not guns.”
“How the hell am I supposed to shoot someone if I am without a gun? This small piece is useless unless I'm up close.”
“I’m sure you'll figure something out.”
Brian groaned in annoyance and climbed over his sister trying to avoid hurting her. He tossed his pistol in her lap.
“You need a gun don’t you?”
“Like you said, I will figure something out.” She took a wild shot at the glass door. Brian darted for her room with his head as low to the ground as possible. He opened up her closet door to a jungle of shoes and clothes cluttering the floor and even more clothes cluttering the rack. He dug the mess out onto the bedroom floor. Brian’s hand slid against the wall in search for a lever, button, or handle.
He looked up at the square attic entrance above and an idea stopped his search. He piled the shoes as high as he could and began his climb. The attic was dark. He wiggled himself through the opening. Brain sprinted through the dark room using the slight strands of light to see the beams and boxes in his way.
Pop. Pop. Brian dove out of the way of two bullets as they tore through the floor.
“Is that you Brian?” his little sister called out.
“Yes you idiot. I’m glad you aren’t a good shot.”
“Ha ha. Sorry about that.”
He jumped to his feet and rummaged through the boxed goods. There, in the far corner, right above Brian’s bedroom was his storage of weapons. He popped the container open. Grenades, pistols, bullets, and at the bottom was the gun he needed—his rifle.
Brian took his perch, slid the gun through a small opening his dad swore a squirrel had created and took aim. He scanned the forest line to only find one gunner. He took the shot and the guy fell out of sight.
“He’s dead,” Brian called to his sister.
“He may be dead, but the backyard is a bit crowded.”
Brian ran for the other end of the attic. He peaked through a second hole that he had created to find six men quickly approaching the porch. Brian loaded a bullet and took down one. Their guns swung toward Brian’s perch and the five released a clip. Brian crawled toward his crate of goodies.
“Are you okay?” Elena asked.
“Yeah. There are five men coming toward the house.”
“It’s about time I get to have some fun.”
Brian swung a shotgun onto his back and pocketed a few more handguns. He slipped through the attic’s exit into his room. Guns were fired. He swung the door open to find Elena holding a dying man in her arms trying to defend herself from the flying bullets.
Brian took down the first man he saw. Elena dropped the recently dead man, ran for the
next, slid a knife across his throat, and hurtled the blade at a third. Elena instantly solidified as the last grunt aimed a gun at her head.
“Drop it or she dies,” the masked man demanded.
“Kill him,” Elena protested.
“Shut it Elena. No need to provoke the kind man.”
“If he shoots me, you better hope he kills me.”
“Shut up and drop the weapon.”
Elena slid toward the man on her knees, pushed the gun up and away from her head, and stabbed the man in the gut. She swung her leg, knocking the man to the ground, and stabbed the man again, this time in the chest.
“Next time I say kill someone, just do it.”
“Baby.”
“Ass.” Elena pulled out her phone.
“You get into a gunfight, and the first thing you do when you get done is call a girlfriend? Making plans for tonight?”
Elena shot Brian the bird. He laughed at her tantrum.
“I was calling for a cleanup crew. I would hate for mom or dad to see this when they get home.”
“Did they—“
“They have scanned the surrounding areas and are keeping an eye out for any suspicious activities.”
“What about dad?”
“There was an accident. He won't be getting home any time soon.”
“He wasn't—“
“Nope. He is fine.”
“Good.”
Brian leaned his shotgun against the wall.
Some time passed before Elena’s cleanup crew arrived. Four white vans parked in the driveway. Men and woman of all size stumbled out of the vehicles and strolled toward the house with different tools for different disasters that the bullets had caused. A few of the men filled the holes with putty while others followed close behind painting it to match the undamaged wall. Other men replaced the doors and the windows. Glass and plates were exchanged, even the one Elena had broken. The blood was cleaned away along with the bodies. Cushions were replaced and so was the carpet. The room was practically new except all the new things matched the battered ones they replaced almost perfectly minus the blood and holes.
“Excuse me sir,” said one of the men as they approached Brian. “We understand that this can be confusing, but we strongly suggest that you keep what had happened here today a secret. Her—“
“Marcus, that isn’t necessary. My brother has known my secret for some time.”
“You are supposed to notify us of those that keep your secret.”
“Don’t throw the rule book at me. Just finish your business here and get out. I’ll deal with the boss and my lack of rule following later.”
The men left a few minutes later. Elena patiently waited for the vans to leave before returning to the kitchen. She picked up the same filthy pot and returned to scrubbing it clean.
“I wish they would have finished the dishes for me,” she said.
“Why did grandpa tell you?”
Brian took the pot from her hands and finished scrubbing it.
“He knew that one day I might have to come to you for help. My secret isn’t as well kept as yours. I guess that is the worst part about playing with knives. Sometimes people get away.
“I messed up brother. Unlike you, I got greedy. I gave away my identity to several job seekers to make a quick buck. I—“
“No need to explain. If you ever need help, I am here.”
Tears fell from her face. She tried to avoid eye contact with her brother, but she wailed the second she saw his smile.
“I’m so sorry,” she managed to squeeze out under her whimpers. Brian placed the pot on the drying rack and grabbed the next. She snatched it out of his hand and bumped him out of her way. She grabbed her side in pain.
“You might need stitches for that,” Brian suggested.
“I already have some. A lady kindly patched me up while others cleaned. Now, can you give me my space so I can finish cleaning.”
“Back to your old self I see.” Brian returned to the couch. Their father pulled into the driveway. Bandit leapt out of the car and charged for the door. He barked hoping someone would let him in. Brian greeted his friend, and then assisted his dad with the groceries.
“I was almost in an accident,” his father said as Brian approached the trunk of his car. “People need to learn how to drive.”
Brian grabbed a few bags and walked away with a large grin stretched across his face.
###
About the Author
Jose Miguel is currently a student at Full Sail University earning his BFA in Creative Writing. He has written several short stories in an array of genres, but his larger, novel size projects only reflect his main focus of fantasy and science fiction. His focus on writing revolves around fantasy and science fiction, but he is not afraid to try new things. He discovered his passion for writing in his last year of high school and has continued to follow through with his exciting adventure in the worlds he creates with his imagination.
What’s to come…
This story is only the beginning of a long line of short stories. Brian and Elena have a world of hurt ahead of them if they want to keep their secret away from their parents. I hope you enjoy their adventures. If you like this book and any future books to come, please give it an honest rating. I like to read input. I do read them all. If you have any ideas for future stories, feel free to include it in the rating. Who knows, you may see your idea in a book to come.
My plan is to have two short stories a month for this series published for your enjoyment. Hearing from people that enjoy my short stories might encourage me to write more. Either way, I’m going to continue writing for my enjoyment. Happy Reading.