Green Desert - Chapter 2.5.3 - Fírí

The doorbell rang. The big gun didn’t look big in Pí‘oro’s hand. “Nobody move Nobody say anything.” The gun pointed at the floor near the kneeling Bhanar. A dark-brown dog came from behind the old man, wagging its tail. “Sıpa‘ı, sit.” It did, whimpering.

The doorbell rang again.

I hissed, “They ain’t going to go away. They know someone’s here. We have three––four cars outside.” And if it was Gogzhuè’s goons, they’d be kicking in the door any second, guns blazing. And Pí‘oro would shoot back and I’d be killed in the crossfire. Sweat broke out all over my body.

Pí‘oro grimaced and cursed silently. “Stay here,” he ordered and strode past me toward the front door. “Coming,” he called, untucking his shirt and hiding the gun at the back of his belt.

Bhanar looked up at me, bloody rags in his hands. “Don’t worry. I called the police.”

My lungs stopped. The police. They’d arrest Zhíno and me too, probably. Once they found out the truth, I’d be in prison for ages. Until I was old. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Pí‘oro yelled, “Shut up, you two,” and then opened the door.

Bhanar whispered, “I know you love Zhíno, butt he killed a policeman. They would find him sometime.”

Outside the front door stood a middle-aged man in overalls and a mesh cap. Not one of the thugs. I sighed, then froze. “Oh shit.” The towtruck driver.