The Three Armed Gunman

The Three Armed Gunman

Chapter 1 - Bloodhound


Sands lay in the sun, or what he was fairly sure was the sun; it burnt his skin and made him sweat under his black clothes. Although that could be fevered hallucinations from the drugs.
He’d told the chocolate kid to fuck off about an hour ago. He didn’t think the kid could deal with witnessing another death. And Sands didn’t think he’d make a pretty corpse.
So he just lay there against the wall listening to the mobile in his left hand repeating the same message over and over again.
“This line has been disconnected. To contact your networking administrator….”
He was having a hard time getting his head around his situation.
He really didn’t want to die, but he knew that if he lived he’d be blind and he just couldn’t see himself blind.
He was hating every second of the darkness he was in; feeling the suns rays beat down on his exposed skin, knowing it was unbearably bright and yet all he could see was total, all consuming darkness.
He wanted to retch.
Everything had turned to shit on him and he couldn’t stand it.
He coughed dryly, groaning when it pulled on the wounds in his thighs. Funny, he never knew the neck and thigh were so closely connected…
In the same moment he was pondering this he heard a sharp intake of breath. It had come from about 6 metres off his left where he’d left Adrejez.
He had the gun trained at whoever was standing there before he’d even thought about it and tilted his head to the side, waiting for them to move.

Sarena stood rooted to the spot, totally mortified.
She’d been walking around the city trying to find anyone she could help, walking them to the few trucks perusing the streets for the wounded, when she’d walked down the alleyway and found the man in black leaning dejectedly against the wall; blood seeping slowly down his face like tears of the sun.
The moment she’d seen his face she’d realised that he’d gotten himself mixed up with Barillo’s cartel. She’d seen it done before and she knew that any man who was an enemy of Barillo, was a friend of hers.
She must have made a noise because in a split second the man had a black barrel pointed squarely at her head and a mildly curious expression on his beautiful face.
She was amazed at his senses for picking up her position so perfectly.
“Per favour senor, please don’t shoot.”
Sands could hear the desperate tremor in the woman’s – girls – voice.
He thought she sounded harmless enough and there wasn’t much she could do to him that would be any worse the situation he was already in. He let his arm fall heavily to the pavement, clicking the safety on the gun as he did.
Sarena let out a breath in relief, although she remained where she was as the man still had his sightless eyes gazing in her direction.
“Ahh….sir do you need some help?” She asked gently, running with the assumption that he wasn’t Mexican.
Sands cracked a weak grin.
“If you wouldn’t mind baby, a phone would be great.”
Sarena’s eyes slid down to the phone in his hand and slowly back up to his face again. He must be delirious.
Sands sensed her hesitation
“Lines down” he said simply, twitching the cell in his hand, realising suddenly that he was too weak to lift it.
Sarena took a few steps closer to him, making a point to walk slowly but smoothly as not to sound too bothered by his condition.
“All the lines are down in the city. But I can get you to a hospital if….”
“No that’ll be fine thanks.” Sands cut her off gruffly, trying to suppress a groan as he felt Barillo’s pain killers ebbing away and the dull ache in his sockets turning into a rhythmic pounding of his whole skull.
Sarena saw his lip curl a little as he tried to ignore the pain.
“You’ve got to do something about those wounds senor or you’ll die of blood loss.”
She didn’t want to force him as she was sure he’d shoot her but it wasn’t right to leave him lying in the street like that.
Such good genes shouldn’t be wasted.
She took a few steps closer until she was at his feet and knelt down.
Sands was touched by her kindness but kept his expression stoic all the same.
“I’m not seeing some poor excuse for a doctor with a license to sell drugs to anybody with 50 peso.”
Sarena’s eyes widened slightly at his aggressive tone and resisted the urge to run away.
The man had a gun in his hand and the handle of a knife showed clearly in his boot sitting a few inches from where her hands rested on her knees. She’d have to be careful of his temper.
At this close proximity she could see the sweat on his face mingling with the blood leaking from behind his shades and the deep red, almost black, blood oozing from his thighs and arm, glistening on his clothing. He was thin and gangly-looking but his face had a gaunt sort of half-starved appeal to it that was hard to ignore.
And judging by the pot leaf belt clasped loosely at his waist he had a sense of humour.
Her eyes drifted up to his face again, he looked decidedly pale and the hand he had wrapped tightly about his gun had gone sickeningly transparent at the knuckles.
She had to get him out of the street. And there was only one thing for it.
“Okay, I don’t want you dieing out here senor so how about I take you back to my place, it’s just around the corner, and I’ll see to your wounds and you can stay with me till the lines are up again. Comprendes?”
Sarena suggested this with a confident air and watched his face closely.
Sands was impressed. She was close enough to know how bad his injuries were and at least guess that he couldn’t see, and yet she hadn’t shied away in horror but managed to keep a level head and offer assistance.
He liked this girl.
Still….
“Are you a doctor sweetheart?”
He let the question hang and felt as though he should have gone a little easier on the sarcasm.
Her reply was distinctly defensive.
“No I’m not, I’m a psyche student. I dropped out of pre-med.”
Her tone changed from sulky to softly reassuring.
“But I know enough to keep you alive.”
Sands gave in.
“What’s your name girl?”
“Sarena. And yours?”
“Sands”
Sarena recognised the defeat in his tone and stood up.
“Alright Sands, do you think you can stand?”
Sands grumbled deep in his chest, putting the gun in its holster and dropping the useless cell phone to the ground. He pressed his palms to the wall behind him, gauging his strength and levered himself off the ground using the wall. He stopped almost at once when fire burned up his arm from the bullethole in his tricep.
A low hiss escaped his lips as he cradled his injured arm.
Sarena frowned in concern and moved to his side, putting his good arm around her shoulder.
By the way he moved into her side she had the distinct impression he didn’t want the phone to call a girlfriend or wife.
With much struggles, curses and groans Sarena had Sands on his feet. She let him lean against the wall and gather strength for a moment.
“That wasn’t so hard now was it” Sarena commented cheerily, giving Sands a patronizing look, which of course was wasted.
“This place of yours…” Sands started, pressing his spine to the wall behind him to get the cricks out of it. “It is just around the corner right?” He turned towards her with a serious, almost accusing expression.
“Well…its three streets from here…it sounds further than it really is though” Sarena tried to convince him even though she knew it wasn’t going to work.
“Are you okay to move now?” She asked cautiously, wanting to get him moving in case he either passed out or the cartel came looking for him.
Sands didn’t answer, he simply pushed himself off the wall and reached out to her. She took up her position at his side and they made their slow journey to her house.