Green Desert - Chapter 2.2.4 - Zhíno

I gave the door a hard kick, right beside the knob, but the Pétíso-damned thing didn’t fly open like it was supposed to and I fell backwards into a shelf full of nails and wrenches and shit like I wasn’t supposed to. Shrapnel of pain overwhelmed me. Bones grated on bones.

“Fucking Pétíso-damned fucking fuck.” I grabbed a plastic jar of screws off my lap and hurled it against the wall. The damn thing stayed shut. I got up, picked up the guns, tucked one under my excruciating left arm and one in my left hand, then turned the knob. As the door opened, I quickly grabbed the big police gun with my right hand and stepped into an ugly-ass-green kitchen.

A chubby, balding old man gaped at me. Rifleboy sat at the table, eggs on his chin.

“All right, shitheads. No sudden moves or I start shooting.”

The old guy stuck up his hands and stepped away from me. The kid froze to his seat.

“Give me the keys.” Blood pounded in my head.

“Wh-what keys?” The old man bumped into the counter.

“My fucking car keys, that’s what keys, dumbass.” I waved the big gun in his face, ignoring the pain in my upper arm, twirling the handgun in circles that his gray eyes followed like a racecar fan.

“. . . my body for needle marks?” Fírí!

I kept the cop’s gun on the old man as I turned towards her voice. She walked behind a little old woman.

“Fírí, give me the keys!”