Skeletons in the Rain

CHAPTER 42 | 18 MINUTES AGO

"Ofelia," said the priest, understanding.

The lights on the screens died, and a pregnant silence fell upon them. The sudden darkness sent Ismael's senses into overdrive. He remained motionless, giving his pupils a chance to adjust to the gloom, while the sound of rain hammering the roof and the murmur of confusion around him kept him from hearing anything else.

"Your Majesty?" asked one of the king's subjects before a bullet pierced his chest.

A strobe of gunshot flashes flickered in the dark as gunfire and screams replaced the tense stillness of the last few seconds. The hiss and rattle of tear gas canisters came soon after. A blast from a shotgun blew up two of the television sets in the back of the throne. More bullets whistled through the air amidst the cries of the Skulls and the shouts of the collectives led by Abraham, who was wearing a bandana to hide his face.

That son of a bitch found us, the priest laughed, relieved. He's making it look like a turf war. The Skull who wore the gold rings dropped hard near Ismael; a shotgun blast had torn half of his masked head off. This is it! I must get out of here.

"Find where they have the prisoners," ordered Abe. "My daughter will be there."

Ofelia adjusted her mask to ensure total anonymity before shooting a man in the head with the gun she'd offered to Ismael. The wounded man spun back like a top and landed on his butt, struggling to prevent the mess of tissues and teeth his face had become from spilling onto the floor. Then, she turned to Ismael and made him stand at gunpoint.

The Mime King would not let him get away without a fight.

"Your Majesty, look out!" the deacon shouted, firing his weapon twice as Ofelia and Ismael stayed low and took cover behind a desk. The tear gas was starting to become a problem; the priest's watery eyes stung like hell, and each breath came harder than the one before.

More gunshots roared around them until Ofelia drew her pistol, popped her torso up and fired twice, both times hitting her target. The priest then noticed a flashlight strapped to a rifle pointing directly at him; he flung himself to his stomach, his hands protecting his head, and waited for the fatal instant of pain that would end his life. Bullets flew above his head and sent bits of the desk raining down on him, but death didn't come.

Ismael looked up. The man who shot him was already bleeding on the ground while the Skulls and the collectives shot each other through the smoke.

"Get up!" the deacon said, pulling Ismael up from his armpit as Ofelia provided cover for them. The three of them flattened against the nearest wall, coughing, and made a run for it as a barrage of bullets hit the ground near them.

Just when it seemed they were making progress, gunfire emerged from out of nowhere. Both the deacon and Ofelia twisted around and returned fire.

After a series of loud bangs, without skipping a beat, the deacon replaced the magazine in his gun and unloaded five more shots into the men that had attacked them. "Done," he said, twisting his lips in a weird smile. "I killed the bastards that killed me."

Before his body touched the ground, Ofelia managed to catch the deacon and helped him to the floor where he began to convulse. She opened up his shirt to find a single bullet hole oozing blood in the middle of his chest. One glance at his face told Ismael that man wouldn't survive more than a few seconds.

"Remember. Cross my heart," were the deacon's last words.

"And hope to die," Ofelia pointed her gun at the priest. "Get. Back. On. Your. Feet."

Right after they left the deacon behind, more shots rang from afar.

The priest knew God did not exist, but he couldn't deny it was nothing short of a miracle they'd walked out of there unscathed. It wasn't until Ofelia had closed a heavy sliding door behind them, after having led him down a trapdoor and a set of stairs, that he realized they were far from the shooting.