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I laughed a little and Davide grumbled to himself. Steven sighed and leaned on the steering wheel, staring out the window.
Another half hour passed. I wanted to get out and stretch my legs, or at least use the bathroom, but none of the guys looked like they were doing anywhere anytime soon. I shifted and tried to get more comfortable, but my mind was racing in loops and dips. I kept vacillating between being afraid for the Club and afraid of more violence, and wanting Steven to go out and kill every single one of them.
But before I could lose it completely, Steven sat up straight. “I think that’s them,” he said.
Alex grunted and leaned forward. “Shit,” he said. “You’re right. Look, right on time.”
Steven nodded and started the engine. Davide let out a happy sigh as the cool air blew into the car again. He leaned forward and reached back behind him, pulling a gun from his waistband as Alex took his back out of the dash.
“Now, you know the plan,” Steven said. “Kill them and make it fast, but don’t go too wild, all right? There might be people inside that store.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re shooting up a bodega again? After what happened to me?’
“You’d be surprised how often we do this,” Steven said. “And you’re the first civilian I’ve ever seen get hurt.”
“But people—” I started, but Steven turned to stare at me.
“Not another word,” he said. “We can’t have you fucking this up.”
I stared at him then clamped my jaw shut and glared. I wanted to scream at him but Davide laughed and smirked at me. I glanced at him and flipped him off before crossing my arms over my chest.
Steven turned back around and faced forward.
“You two ready?” he asked.
“Let’s kill these fucks,” Alex said.
“Just keep the air on,” Davide said.
Steven snorted and pulled out of his spot.
The car rolled forward. My heart began hammering in my chest as we moved closer to the bodega. I saw two guys standing out front, both of them wearing baggy jeans and polo shirts. One wore a blue shirt with stripes, the other a plain red one. The red shirt guy had a hat on, pulled down low over his eyes, and he was crouched down toward the ground. Both men were in the shade, their pale skin hiding from the strong sun.
As Steven got closer he slowed down, and Alex and Davide rolled down their windows. They leaned out with their guns, and I heard one of the Club guys curse.
Gunshots rang out. Alex and Davide fired at the two guys, who tried to scramble away, but they were riddled with bullets in seconds. The red shirt guy took a shot to the skull and his head snapped back, slamming against the window. Blood splattered all over the glass. The stripe shirt guy scrambled toward the door, trying to find cover, but he staggered and fell as more bullets tore into his body.
“Fuck yeah!” Davide shouted. “Fucking killed them. Fuck yeah, you stupid—”
Another shot rang out, but this one came from further down the block. Davide’s head snapped forward then slammed back, and blood splattered against my face.
“Fuck,” Steven yelled. “Fuck, fuck, where?”
More gunshots. Bullets slammed in through the back window.
“Get down, Colleen!” Steven shouted as he slammed on the gas. The car leapt forward and Davide’s limp body slumped forward. Blood leaked from his skull and I sat there, staring at his dead body, paralyzed with terror. More gunshots popped off as Alex leaned out the window and returned fire.
Steven reached the intersection and turned right. The SUV’s wheels screamed as he drove fast, blowing through two more stop signs, turned down another street, then slowed to a more normal pace. He drove north, just getting away from the scene.
“What happened?” Steven shouted. “What the fuck happened?”
“There was another guy,” Alex said. “We missed him. Didn’t see him. He was down the block, a lookout I guess, and—”
“He’s dead,” I said.
The words came out strangled and terrified. Davide was lolling forward, more blood rolling from his skull. I looked down at myself and gagged when I saw that I was covered in splatters of it, all over my chest, my arms. I knew it was on my face, and I used my shirt to wipe it off, but it only smeared all over.
“Fuck,” Steven said. “Alex, call Dr. Chen right now. Tell him to come to my house.”
“He’s dead,” I said again. “He’s dead. They shot him in the head. He’s dead.”
Alex looked at me, his face expressionless, then glanced back at Davide. His face twisted into a snarl before he shook his head and got out his phone.
The next ten minutes were a blur. I kept staring at Davide then at my hands. They were covered in his blood. I felt like the world was dragging around us in slow motion, like I was moving through molasses. I tried to look around but nothing made any sense, and I distantly realized that I was having some kind of panic attack, but couldn’t do anything about it. I was trapped in my own body, covered in a dead man’s blood.
