EYEHEARTZOMBIES

Max didn’t live in the casino he worked at. He had a townhouse on the west side of Vegas, overlooking the Strip. They had taken me out to the desert west of Vegas, too, so one of the first places I came to when I reached town again was his house. Another farmer had picked me up. He had been taking his sheep through to some pasture he had farther upstate, but he had been willing to let me ride in the back with the sheep. The gun in my hand and the blood on my clothes seemed to make him a bit more accommodating than he would have normally been.

He dropped me off at the end of the driveway leading up to Max’s house. There wasn’t a gate or anything, just a rather long driveway. I walked up it, unchallenged, and banged on his front door with the but of the pistol. It was a Ruger. All black and compact. Wicked-looking, I had always thought.
No one answered my knock, so I knocked again. Still no answer. The door was locked, of course. What idiot hides in a house with an open front door? I took a step back and kicked at the door a couple of times, then gave up on it.

I walked around the house and found a few big windows that I could have climbed through. I didn’t want to risk getting cut, though. I saw that he had a second-floor patio, so I climbed up the trellis to it. Sure enough, the French doors leading into the the upstairs were unlocked. Who’s going to climb up a trellis just to break into a house?

I checked the upstairs. Just two rooms. The one I came into and a game room with a pool table. No one was in either of them. I took a step down the stairs and decided I’d do this the right way.

“Max!” I yelled. I waited for an answer but none came. “Max, answer me!” Still no answer. Well, I wasn’t going to keep yelling, give my position away. I walked slowly down the rest of the steps, my gun held at the ready. At the bottom of the steps, I could see into the living room on my right, and the dining room on my left. I couldn’t see any movement from the living room, and the lights were on in there. The lights were off in the dining room, so I stepped that direction. Better to check the easy hiding places first than get surprised from one of them.

I stepped into the dining room. A large table sat in the middle. Strange, since Max had no more family than I did. Maybe it was wishful thinking. There was a curio cabinet to the side that surprised me when I saw my reflection in the mirrored back of it. It held little glass figurines and crystal plates. I never knew Max had such a soft heart.

Through an arch to the left of the dining room was the kitchen. I stepped through the archway and jumped to the side, not wanting to be a framed target for long. I head a gun cock and I dove down behind the small island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Max!” I shouted again. “Max, listen to me. You don’t want to do this. Just give up now and I won’t have to kill you. Max!” No answer but the scuff of feet on the other side of the island. I stood up and stepped up onto the island, stepping on one of the bar stools that stood around it first. As soon as I set foot on top of the bar, I felt the wind of a twenty-two caliber pass in front of me. “Shit!” I yelled and dove back, falling off of the island counter top.

Max came around the side, a short-barreled shotgun in his hand. “Isn’t this how you do it?” he said, holding the gun up. “A .22 to the head. Isn’t that the professional way?” He aimed the gun at me and took another step closer.

I kicked at the gun, knocking it away from the center of my head, but he pulled the trigger when I kicked and the shot caught me in right shoulder. I felt the pain spread through me like a wild heat and I raised my gun and fired at him. He had ducked down when he fired, the shot taking a bit of the wind from his sails, and I missed him completely.

He ran from the room as I got to my feet, ready to fire again. He had to reload. His only held two shots at a time, but I had eight to begin with, seven now. He was mine.

He ducked through the archway and I was right behind him. I saw him run out of the dining room and around the staircase. I chased after him, rounding the staircase just as he yanked open the front door and ran out down the driveway.

I chased after, pausing for a second in the doorway to take a shot at him. It missed again, kicking up gravel and asphalt from around his feet. He stumbled and fell to one knee, but he regained his feet quickly.

I chased after and had almost caught him when he jumped in his car that he had left at the bottom of the driveway. He twisted the key in the ignition and it fired to life again, but I was close enough. I grabbed the door handle and pulled on it, yanking the door open. He tried to throw the car into gear and run off without me, but my finger was faster. Two shots to the head and Max slumped over into his passenger seat.