Chapter Eight

The two hitmen turned back slowly.

“We had no order to kill the other,” one of them said in the most mechanical voice I ever heard.

“It seems necessary now,” the other one replied in the same monotone voice.

They pulled out the pistols as I dived out of the way into the kitchen section. The metal counter provided a good cover, but it wouldn’t last long against their pistols. All my weapons were stored in the closet near the door, and there was no way I could survive sprinting through those shots. They seemed professionally trained with a deadly accuracy. Even if I moved my head up an inch above the counter, it would probably be blown off my neck.

There was a knife set some where on this counter, and it was hit down by the bullets. I took the smallest one, and as if I was throwing a frisbee, threw it towards a man. Before the knife could even strike the target, that man broke the knife in half with a bullet.

I threw out the three other knives at once, but I could hear them clattering as they hit the floor.

Melee wouldn’t work. I needed something explosive. Why didn’t I think of it earlier? In a kitchen, there were so many things you could make into a bomb.

I formulated a plan. Stupid and risky, but worth a try; anything would be better than nothing.

The counter was falling apart. A bullet went through it and penetrated my left arm. However the misery in my heart numbed the pain of my flesh.

I was counting the shots. If I heard it correctly, they shot 12 rounds at ST before emptying the clip. I couldn’t focus much longer on that memory. It was filled with terror and horror. Nine… Ten… Eleven now… I could leverage the time of them reloading to do something, but it would only be a second. One second should be enough.

I quickly rolled below the stove. Now they finished reloading and they could fire a clearer shot at me. They could kill me, but I had enough time to make my move. I snatched a screwdriver and drove it into the tank with all my force.

The speed of the screwdriver would be so fast that the friction in between could light up a spark, which then could ignite the propane inside.

One of the men immediately realized what I was doing and pounced toward me, slamming on to me. The impact knocked the screwdriver away. i didn’t have time to react, he was faster, stronger, and at least a head taller than me. He picked me up like I was a baby and hurled me onto the wall.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, I struck the window. The glass shattered into a million pieces as I flew out onto the road. There was no way I could get back, I couldn’t even walk. The pain from earlier in the evening and the immense throbbing of my head; when I struck the concrete ground I landed on my back, and my spine was probably ruptured. My feet seemed frozen in place no matter how strongly my brain called for it to move. From the other window I could see ST also lying there; life was drained bit by bit out of him. I hope instant death would be rewarded to him, so he didn’t need to suffer through the last ten minutes.

I couldn’t immediately perceive the next few milliseconds.

There was a shot. Then a tiny orange glow at the centre of the kitchen. I knew where exactly it came from. The glow soon became an orb, then a blooming flower. I could see red, orange, yellow, black, and a ton of unnamable colors. It was a flower of burning passion, a flower of undying love that surpass the space between life and death, a flower of vengeance. The blossom expanded at an exponential rate, swallowing everything in its perimeters. Even air recoiled as the explosion erupted. Before the two men could even move a muscle, they were drowned in the fiery flame, in living hell. The whole dorm was blasted apart.

Before ST was devoured by the explosion, he was lying on his side. He had moved a few inches with all the energy he got left. He had his sidearm in his hand, aimed at the kitchen, smoke coming out of the barrel. His eyes, filled with hate, were staring intensely at the two men and the remnants of the propane tank.

“For Marilyn,” he whispered.