The Three Armed Gunman

Its a long one ladies and gentlemen. Three and a half thousand words! Rock on.
Please enjoy.
Pleeeeeeasssseeeeee!


Chapter 2

Shackin' it up together


By the time Sarena was searching the pockets of her jeans for her house key with Sands leaning heavily against the locked door, she was almost positive that the man was two steps from the grave.
She had a worrying amount of blood all over her clothes from him leaning on her and his face was so pale it was looking blue against the bright blood on his face.
If she hadn’t been so concerned with his death she might have asked him to pose for a photograph.
Sarena dug into her pockets once more and finally pulled out the key. She pushed it in the rusted lock and kicked the door in.
Sands was startled out of his semi-conscious state by the sound of the thick door slamming into the hallway wall and the fact that he almost fell to the ground from nothing to lean on.
Sarena stepped to his side as he looked like he was going to pass out.
“I live in a shack; the door doesn’t open unless you kick it.” She said by way of explanation.
Sands gave a small “Mmm” of acknowledgement and allowed the slight girl to lead him inside.
Sarena stumbled down the hall, alarmed to notice that Sands was getting heavier and heavier and his motor skills were failing fast.
“Come on, just a few more steps Sands, keep walking for me.”
She turned the corner to her room and practically dragged Sands to her bed.
“Alright, now you just sit on the bed for two seconds okay? It’s right in front of you.”
She wasn’t sure if Sands had heard her, it was more likely that he felt the bed at his knees and decided that whatever the hell it was he was going to sit on it.
He ran his hands over the doona and slowly sat down on it, grimacing.
Sarena thought he looked somewhat like an old man with stiff joints.
She made sure he was steady before piling all the pillows up against the headboard. She then managed to manoeuvre Sands into a lounged position against them. She was glad to hear the satisfied groan from his throat as he relaxed.
Sarena went to take his boots off but nearly shrieked when she found Sands pale, bony hand holding her wrist in an iron grip. Before she could say or do anything though his other hand appeared and quickly slid a small knife out of his other boot and slid it into a ring at his belt. He then let his vice-like grip off her wrist and sat back against the pillows.
Sarena dropped her hands to her lap, rubbing her wrist. She stared up at the man on her bed and suddenly felt angry.
“I guess you can take your own fucking boots off then.”
Sands felt the anger radiating off her in waves.
Trust, he thought to himself, its all about trust; she trusts me and I don’t trust her and she doesn’t like it.
Sands mulled this over for a moment, deciding on a way to diffuse the situation.
He resisted the urge to sigh and reached his hand to his belt, slowly taking his gun out of its holster and placing it shakily on the table next to the bed he’d worked out was on his right, then took the knife out as well and put it next to the gun along with yet another knife he had strapped to the inside of his left arm.
He dropped his hands and tilted his head to the side, sending a questioning glance at Sarena.
She had watched in silence as he had done all this and understood the meaning of the gesture. She looked into his sightless eyes and seeing his deathly pale complexion, quickly went back to taking off his boots.
When that was done she stood up and walked into the adjoining bathroom and dumped his boots just outside the doorway.
Sands heard her scramble about in some cupboards and pad softly back into the room.
Sands frowned.
How did she walk so quietly?
The thought was snatched away when she sat down on the bed next to his hip.
“Okay before we do anything, do you want some painkillers?” Sarena asked. He seemed to be getting some colour back in his face now that he was still again and the blood trails had dried on his cheeks.
Sarena had to look away as she felt her eyes sting with tears. How could anyone be so cruel? Who deserved this kind of treatment?
She failed to see the other more dangerous side of this thought….how bad was this guy?...
“Just…get it over with.” Sands replied on a sigh.
He didn’t want to be so doped up that he couldn’t shoot straight.
Sarena just gave him a mildly surprised look and went back to digging through the First Aid.
“Easy one first” she said lightly as she pulled out a large gauze bandage and reached up for his wounded arm.
She cleaned and bandaged it with almost no discomfort evident in Sands.
Sarena was impressed. Not even a flinch.
Now she had a problem. She couldn’t get to the wounds on his legs without either cutting his pants off or getting him to take them off which she was positive would not go down well with Sands.
He noticed her hesitation but decided to make it difficult for her. After all, he was in so much pain he could barely concentrate, let alone empathise.
“Umm…Sands…I’m going to have to cut up your pants.”
Sands was quiet for a moment. Apparently the pain and the pain killers were affecting his head more than he’d thought.
“They’re the only pair I have with me and I ain’t walkin’ out of here in cut offs.”
Sarena grinned.
“Fine then,” she said happily, “You’ll have to strip.”
Sands turned in her direction.
“Try to sound a little more disappointed sugar, doctors aren’t supposed to get personal.”
Sarena moved off the bed and knelt on the floor, sitting on her heels with a roll of bandage in her lap.
“Lucky I’m not a doctor then aye?”
Sands just snorted as he undid his belt and set it on the bed where Sarena had been sitting. She reached to it and pulled it down to her lap. She ran her fingers over the scratched plastic, the worn leather felt warm under her fingers.
“You know having a pot leaf on your belt throws off the whole dark and dangerous thing you have going on.” Sarena said lightly, watching him arch his back against the bed and sliding his pants down over his Willee Coyote boxer shorts.
She mentally reprimanded herself for staring at his crotch but couldn’t help thinking that it was a rather large bulge for such a skinny guy.
“You think so?” Sands ground out as the material chaffed his wounds.
Sarena momentarily forgot what she’d said at the look on Sands face. She’d never noticed that pleasure and pain brought the same expressions to a persons face.
She shook her head and reached up to help Sands, noticing that the effort was making him pale once more. He fell back against the pillow, raising a shaking hand to rub his forehead.
“Well yeah,” Sarena continued, trying to distract him from the pain “It sort of puts across that you’re really mellow and probably too out of it to be that much of a threat.” She pulled his pants down to his knees gently; knowing that the skin would pull at his bullet wounds. She then wrestled them off his feet and threw them across the room near a sofa.
“I mean, I’m no expert in that field but, I don’t think your aim improves any with that many chemicals cruising around your brain.”
Sands appreciated the distraction, noticing that she was giving a doctors biased point of view to get him to argue with her.
He smiled, he definitely liked this girl.
He began to run through what he knew of her up to this point.
Her name was Sarena, she had a Spanish accent but spoke perfect English. He didn’t think Serena was a Spanish name so likely she had a parent who was a gringo. But such a strong accent? Perhaps her American parent had grown up in Spain, he speculated.
She went to Pre-med, dropped out – probably too difficult for her – and now she was a psyche student – explains how she deals with situations like looking after an injured blind man while a war goes on outside.
She was thin, a few inches shorter than himself and had hair past her shoulder blades.
Sands had picked this all up on the trip from the street to her home.
Her home…she said it was a shack and he couldn’t help but believe her. The floorboards creaked in the short hallway and the door sounded as if its hinges would snap very soon. Not a good place for safety then. Which meant this girl probably kept a weapon at her disposal. He could smell the dust in the air and pine wood for some odd reason. Through all these odd natural smells he noticed an exotic, oriental scent on Sarena herself and her bed. It didn’t fit in with the shack at all. Why did she smell so expensive when the house was clearly a fixer-upper? What was she doing spending her money on Yves Saint Laurent perfume? And where had she found it in this city? But the place was cool and the bed was wonderfully comfortable.
He decided he liked her place.
He felt her nimble fingers wiping the blood off his legs with a rag of some sort and silently thanked her for not being the impersonal professional and being the girl off the street who didn’t want to hurt him anymore than he was, and so was being gentle with him.
Sarena realised her attempts at conversation had failed and let it drop. As long as he was conscious, which she knew he was as he twitched and shifted a little when she hit a sore spot.
The bulletholes looked awful but they were clean and she couldn’t see any traces of material from his black pants in them.
The shots had grazed the inside of his left thigh and gone straight through his right thigh just above the knee. Thankfully neither had hit bone or main arteries.
“Done many drugs Sarena?” Sands asked simply, trying to get an idea on her personality.
She was caught off guard by the question but decided to answer truthfully.
“Bend your knee for me could you,” Sands complied and Sarena continued as she wrapped his wound, “I did a little mescaline on a roadtrip….acid too. Tried speed once. Never again.” Sands smiled as her tone went from faintly reminiscent to final at the last mention.
“What about you Sands?” Sarena asked distractedly, trying to keep her eyes from sliding up where she could almost see up the leg of his boxers.
Sands could tell she wasn’t focussed and wondered what had caught her attention but dismissed it when he realised he had no way to tell anymore.
“Everything you can think of. And some that you can’t.”
She laughed.
“I’m not going to ask.”
Sands could hear the smile in her voice and felt himself relax a little.
She finished wrapping his other leg in comfortable silence. She put the empty role of bandage back in the first aid and sat down cross-legged on the floor. Now was the tricky part.
She looked down at her blood stained hands, turning them over in her lap and resisting from picking the dried blood from under her fingernails.
“I know you got mixed up with Armando Barillo,” she regretted to notice Sands tense at this but continued regardless, “I know he took your eyes. He’s done it to others in this town…mostly agents who get found out…so…I’m going to jump the gun and assume you’re an undercover agent who got on the wrong side of the cartel.”
Sarena didn’t bother to lift her gaze. She expected Sands to say something.
“And how would you know all this missy? Sands asked in even tones.
“My brother did the same thing…and the same punishment was given to him.”
Sands thought it over. It explained her apparent total disregard of his missing eyeballs up until this point and he realised that this meant that she’d want to help him out.
“You guessed it.” He answered with a casual shrug.
Sarena looked up at him and felt a little relieved. She hadn’t expected him to brush it off so easily.
“I can wrap your eyes up a little to stop anything from bumping them and maybe stop them from bleeding again…I don’t think there’s much else I can do for them….or I could leave them if you prefer.” She finished quietly.
Sands didn’t like the timidness she was showing but knew there probably wasn’t a better way to approach the situation.
“You can do whatever you like but if your going to go anywhere near these,” he indicated his dark glasses, “I wouldn’t turn down some of those pain killers.”
Sarena stood up and headed to the bathroom, making sure to talk while she did so that Sands knew where she was.
“Good cos I don’t want anymore of your blood on my favourite doona.”
Sands frowned at this, then wished he hadn’t as it tugged on some torn skin in his sockets.
Sarena came back to sit on the bed again. She opened Sands’ palm and pressed some pills into it.
“They’re the strongest ones I have. Says they’re for ‘severe dental pain or migraines’. I figure it’s in the general area so, we’ll see how good they are huh?”
Sands closed his palm around the pills and lifted his injured arm up. Sarena put the glass of water in his waiting hand and watched his adams apple bob as he drained the glass. He sat it on his abs and settled back a little further in the pillows.
“And while we wait for those to kick in I’ll check if the lines are still down.”
Sands felt her weight move off the bed and listened to her light footfalls treading up the hall and off into another room. He heard the click of a receiver being lifted and several thunks as she tapped the hang up button.
Lines were still down then.
He then heard her drop the receiver back down on the phone and then a small thud and a tinny sound as well as a shocked squeal from Sarena. He heard her sigh in exasperation. He was just about to ask what happened when the girls’ tired and slightly pained voice called down the hall.
“Phone fell off the wall.”
Sands grinned. By her tone it seemed as if this was a common occurance. His grin faltered slightly as he realised he was practically laying his life at the feet of a girl who couldn’t pick up a phone without damaging it.
Sarena returned to the room at that moment and laughed at his expression.
“Something wrong?” She asked with her hands on her hips.
Sands’ frown deepened at the cheerful tone in her voice and suddenly realised he’d frowned and it hadn’t hurt too badly.
“Painkillers worked.”
“Excellent” Sarena put on a business-like tone and knelt down at her First Aid kit once more.
Sands heard her turn the whole box upside down, spilling everything onto the floor. She grumbled huffily. Sands was glad her attention was elsewhere as he couldn’t help but grin at how cute she sounded. He was falling for his nurse. And the thought didn’t really bother him. He didn’t have much else to live for right now, why not entertain himself with this girl?
“First Aid kits don’t seem to cater for serious injuries…..or four of them for that matter.” Sarena said, spreading everything out on the moth bitten Persian rug. Probably not the most sanitary place for them, she thought but brushed it aside.
She was out of reasonable sized bandages. There was about a metre of a thinner one and some sort of tape/material for sprained ankles but nothing else of much use.
“Alright,” Sarena said, unwinding the bandage in her hand, “keep in mind this is only temporary.” She looked at the man in her bed, he was pale and looked like he’d just run from St Petersburg to Los Angeles. He was also half naked and bloodstained but he still managed to look hot. Unbelieveable.
Sands knew she was waiting for him. He struggled into a sitting position, mortified to find he was barely strong enough to do this. She watched nervously.
He reached up a very shaky hand and slowly slid the glasses down his nose, placing them gently on the bed next to the empty cup.
Sarena tried to keep her mouth from hanging open. It was quite possibly one of the most frightening things she’d ever seen. Severed nerves and blood vessels and veins all splattered with blood…Sarena felt sick as she watched a vein laying broken and butchered at the back of his socket pulse uselessly, sending a trickle of blue blood to pool at the large gaping hole where an eye should be.
Now she remembered why she dropped out of med school.
How could anyone do this to another human being? What kind of person would willingly do this to another without turning a gun on themselves?
Humans were despicable.
Sands had fully expected this reaction, he was sure it wasn’t a pretty sight. He just tried to remain in the sitting position without falling asleep and waited for her to get over it.
It was sooner than he expected.
“I’m just going o wrap this little bandage around your head, I’ve run out of anything useful, so tell if it hurts okay?”
She was feeling strong empathy towards Sands now that she’d gotten over the initial shock and planned on getting him to a specialist as soon as she could convince him.
Sands remained silent while she gently wound the bandage around his eyes and tied it, ever so carefully at the back
With a few quiet words Sarena eased Sands back to the pillows and watched his pallid face and shallow breathing with concern.
“Everything still hurt?” She asked in an understanding tone.
Sands didn’t answer.
She frowned. “Sands?”
The only answer she received was even breaths whistling quietly through his teeth.
She laid the back of her hand on his forehead. He wasn’t too warm. She looked down at the hand holding his glasses on the bed and wondered at the colour of his skin. She could see the bright blue veins like spiders webs just under the surface.
She sighed and stood.
She went over to his bloodstained, dirty and torn pants lying in a heap on the floor.
She was almost glad he was blind. Her house – shack as she preferred to call it – was a mess. And not conventionally messy, it was falling apart.
There were missing floor boards, shards of glass on the ground, an inch thick layer of dust on almost every surface, holes in the roof, doors with missing hinges and handles, thread bare rugs curtaining the broken windows to keep out the hot Mexican sun….It was terrible.
Mexico wasn’t her favourite place to be either. It smelt, it was stifling, there were hardly any good looking men around and the place was always having some sort of war between the cartels. Sarena wished she was back in Spain.
She carried the pants out into her sorry excuse for a living room and dropped down on the ragged sofa, one leg folded beneath her. She looked over the holes in the legs and scanned the room for inspiration. There really wasn’t anything she could think of to patch it up with so she got up and went out onto the closed in patio that stretched around the house. She didn’t have a washing machine, only a big old bath tub out here on the patio that she used instead. She knelt down and pulled her t shirts and bed clothes from the soapy water, hanging them over the patio rails.
She’d been doing her washing when the fighting had started.
She threw Sands’ pants in the tub; grabbing her shampoo, she began to wash them.
By the time she was finished the tub water was a rich pink colour, she stood up and looked at it. It was a nice shade of pink really. If it wasn’t blood in that water she probably would have dived in.
She snorted. If the man passed out in her bed knew she’d thought that he’d probably drag himself out the door as fast as his shredded legs could carry him.
She hung the now clean pants over a three-legged cane chair. He had nice taste in clothes. The pants were well cut, with beautiful fine stitching and his shirt had looked expensive, not to mention extremely good on him.
She settled into an old sofa placed in the dappled sunlight from the venetian curtains around the patio.
From here, she’d hear Sands if he got up.
As she closed her eyes and lapped up the warm sun she thought back on her day and realised it hadn’t been a total failure.
She grinned as she drifted off to sleep.

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