RE: Vox Mentis
04-30-2017, 02:02 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-30-2017, 02:03 PM by Douglas.)
(04-30-2017, 05:40 AM)Schazer Wrote: »This is stupid. How are you supposed to aim
You pull the shotgun from the bag, brown plastic molded around double barrels, the kind you have to break open between rounds. You heft it awkwardly. “This is a shotgun, Eliot. How am I supposed to shoot a guy in a crop duster with a shotgun?”
“You point and pull the trigger. Get the ammunition.”
“Right.” You find loose boxes of shells in the bag and tear one open. The car hits a pothole and begins to slide. Shells spill into the footwell. The car finds traction and you steady and break open the shotgun and force a shell into each barrel. You crank the window. Furious wind blasts at your face. You stick out your head to see the chopper skimming low over the road behind you. The pilot is behind the plastic bubble, hands on the controls.
(04-30-2017, 03:27 AM)Zephyr Nepres Wrote: »> Miss the man twice, and shoot the gun itself on the third shot.
You fire, and a puff of smoke plumes out of the road in front of the chopper. It seems to you that the pilot won’t be able to steer and shoot simultaneously. You withdraw your head and reload. “Is this guy a poet?”
“Good question.”
“I think he’s just some guy!” The car bounces. “They’re controlling him!”
“Seems likely.”
“So what do I do?”
“Shoot him. Right now.”
“He’s not shooting! He’s just chasing us!”
“Still. Shoot him.”
“He can’t use the fucking gun while he’s flying, Eliot!”
“I realize! Shoot him!”
“If he can’t use the gun, and he’s not a poet, why do I have to shoot him?”
“Because he’s going to fly into us!”
“Oh,” you say. “Oh!”
(04-30-2017, 01:55 AM)☆ C.H.W.O.K.A ☆ Wrote: »successfully shoot the guy in one, but then drop the gun out the window by accident, AGAIN
You stick your head out the window. The helicopter is rushing toward you, blades thundering. You raise the gun and fire. You see a flash of red in the cockpit and think you got the guy, but it's already too late, and you fall back into the car, dropping the gun in the process. Eliot brakes. The Valiant skids, going off the road. Dirt fountains. The world darkens. A rotor blade passes by, a great and terrible force you feel in your bones. Everything becomes noise and dust. Then quiet.
“Stay down,” says Eliot, after a while.
You look at him. Eliot is unbuckling. “What?”
“Don’t move.” He opens the door, and disappears.
You hunker down. Time passes. There's a sharp bang. Moments later, the louder, deeper boom of the shotgun. You started to rise, and stop.
The door opens. The shotgun comes in, butt first. You realize Eliot found it and you're meant to take it. Eliot climbs inside and turns the key.
You sit up. “Are you okay?”
Eliot takes the Valiant back to the road and steers around the helicopter, which no longer looks like an aircraft so much as a randomly distributed collection of scrap metal. There's no sign of the pilot. The car reaches sixty-five and then ninety and then 110, a speed that makes the windows howl like wolves and every pothole a bomb. The tires slip and mutter, treacherous. You don’t want to say anything, but the fourth time you think you're going to die, you can't keep silent.
“What are you doing?”
“Hurrying.” Eliot’s voice is odd.
“What’s the matter?”
“A lot depends on you now.” Eliot shakes his head. “Fuck.”
“What?”
Eliot shakes his head. “This was a stupid idea. A stupid fucking idea.”
Through Eliot’s side window, you notice a thin plume of dust. “Hey. Another car out there.”
“You think I like shooting people? I don’t. I do it because it needs to be done. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Do you realize what happens if we fail? If there’s no one left to stop them?”
“No. You haven’t told me.”
“Christ,” says Eliot. “This is ridiculous.”
You look out the window. “That car is going fast. Really fast.”
“It’s trying to intercept us.”
“Is it?”
“That’s a surprise, is it? You didn’t think there might be more?”
“Why are you so pissed at me?”
Eliot stares straight ahead. You stare at Eliot’s shirt. There's a patch. A darker area. Red.