Everyone Dies in the End #22

Artemis

There was a receptionist kiosk, for lack of a better word, centered against the near wall of the lobby. In happier times, in pre-nuclear holocaust times, it was manned by shaggy-haired students who checked in visitors to the dorm. The Kill Dog ganger was at the end of the kiosk, sitting on the counter, reading a magazine. There was enough dawn streaming through the front doors to see that she had short, curly blonde hair, bright red lips to match the bright-red fingernails holding an equally colorful magazine. Black boots and blue-jean shorts showed pale, thin legs, and a sleeveless t-shirt displayed her heavily tattooed arm. On her face a look of everlasting boredom. At least that was the first snapshot Artemis took. A second later the woman saw them. The magazine dropped, the girls scrambled from the counter and her mouth opened to a scream. Artemis couldn’t see a weapon, but the scream was weapon enough. A scream would bring every Kill Dog ganger within ear shot.

He shot her. Two months ago he never would have thought of such a thing. But two months ago he wasn’t tired, hungry, and running for his life. It took two bullets, he had no idea where the first went, probably across the lobby, out the shattered windows on the far side and—as Metallica might say—off to never-never land.  The second tore into the girl’s chest, above her left breast, in the general area of her heart. White and sleeveless instantly turned into ragged and bloody, and the force of the impact spun her before she dropped face down, her bright-red life pumping onto the shiny tiles.

“You asshole!” Susan screamed. “You absolute, Coke-bottle-sized asshole!” Her face was red with rage, tears pooling in her eyes, the revolver forgotten in her hand.

“I…I… didn’t think…” Artemis stammered.

“You got that right.” She pushed by him and ran to the girl.

She knelt beside the ganger, the blood soaking her knees. Susan shoulders shook, her sobs clear in the now-quiet lobby. She grabbed the ganger’s shoulder with both hands, rolled her to her back, and Artemis saw the ganger wasn’t breathing. Then Susan placed both her hands on the wound.

Artemis looked frantically about the lobby, searching for others. There weren’t any, but it would only be a matter of seconds before their pursuers pounded out of the stairwell.

He ran to Susan’s side and knelt in the blood. Her eyes were closed, her breathing soft, a language he didn’t know spilled from her lips.

            “Susan, what are you doing?” he hissed. But he knew all too well what she was doing, it was the same thing she had done to him less than 24-hours past, she was saving a life. “There’s no time for this.” She ignored him, but then two events made any potential answer irrelevant. In quick succession the stairwell door burst open and the curly, blonde-haired girl with bright red lips drew a ragged, yet deep, breath.