Chapter 25

Mills

“Stay down!” He whispered to Beast. The Latino guard stood on the doorway, looking around for his friend.

“Where you at, bro?” The man said on the radio.

“You had to knock him down, right?” Mills said, staring at Beast.

The big man shrugged and cocked his gun.

“Wait,” Mills said and grabbed the radio.

“Shitting,” he spat, in the worst imitation of anyone’s voice he could ever imagine.

“Oh,” the Latino said, “didn’t see you come in.”

“Hm-hmm,” Mills replied, it was better than speaking again.

“Having a hard time there I see,” he chuckled, “make sure you flush the toilet twice, we don’t want another accident.”

The man turned into the building again, closing the door behind him.

“Nice,” Beast said, “what happens when he sees there’s no one in the bathroom?”

“Let’s find out.”

They moved to the building as fast as they could. A small light bulb shone weakly above the door. The only other light beside the three lamp posts on the parking lot.

Beast hit it with his gun and suddenly they were surrounded by darkness.

Inside the building, they could hear the faint sounds of a TV sitcom playing, fake laughs and all.

“These guys have no clue what’s coming.”

“If they’re like Albert back there, we got it made.”

Mills slowly opened the door to a small corridor that opened up to the the main warehouse’s area, the whole place was stacked with hundreds upon hundreds of mattresses of all sizes.

“There’s one of them,” Beast said, pointing at a small room straight ahead, on the other edge of the building. A young man with a red scarf sat with his feet on a table, bored out of his mind, drinking coffee, watching TV.

About sixteen screens lay behind him, CCTV. If he was smart he could have probably seen them coming from the very first moment they arrived.

To the left, a small set of stairs going to three offices on the second floor. The rest of the warehouse was filled with racks holding boxes and plastic wrapped mattresses.

“I don’t see the other two guys.”

“I’ll take this one out.”

Beast rushed ahead, hiding the noise his footsteps made. Mills hid behind a rack, he was going to check the next corridor.

He needed to focus now, this was no time to hesitate.

Up ahead, past a couple of racks, someone laughed. Through the shelves he could see a man staring at his cell phone, watching a video.

Mills ducked and slowed to a crawl, waiting for him to move, if he could surprise him from behind it would be—

“Hey, has anyone seen my boyfriend?” The Latino said loudly, about fifty feet to his left, the pale white light of the bathroom door shining down on Mills.

“What the fuck?” He yelled, they stared at each other for a half a second before the man pulled up his rifle and pressed the trigger.

It was just enough time for Mills to jump to the next corridor, the bullets missing him by half an inch, the sound of gunfire booming in the dark.

“Someone’s here!” Latino guy yelled, and pressed the trigger again.

Mills could feel the bullets hitting the thick mattresses on the other side of the corner he hid at.

“Over here!” Another voice said, it was Cell Phone Guy, looking at him through the racks to his right.

“Shit.”

He was trapped.

He opened fire at Cellphone and jumped to the next corridor.

“One on the right, one in front of me.”

“You wanna see your boyfriend alive you drop your weapon!”

“Fuck you!” Latino said and another hail of bullets struck the boxes in front of him, “I’m gonna kill you, motherfucker!”

Cellphone peeked through his right corner. Mills shot at him but he was too fast. The bullets hit the metal column in front of Cellphone, Mills almost got him and he knew it, the surprise made him fall down. Mills shot at him again, knowing full well he couldn’t hit him, but he needed him further away before he and the Latino guy pinned him down.

The bullets hit a mattress on the next corridor, and it started bleeding cocaine.

It was the perfect fucking plan, distributing dope in cheap mattresses. One in ten had drugs in it, maybe even one in a thousand, it didn’t matter, that shit sold for millions.

He turned to the left, half expecting Latino to be waiting for him, but they were scared, they didn’t want to risk anything.

That’s their weakness. They’re afraid of dying.

That would lead them to their grave.

The memory of Jena flashed brightly in his mind.

He promised her he would be back. Now he wasn’t so sure he would be able to fulfill that promise.

“Focus,” he said, and that was it. He could either run toward the enemy, or run away. Whatever he chose, he had to commit to it. Uncertainty would get him killed.

His steps echoed under him, Latino would be the first to go, he would never give up.

Where the hell is Beast?

He passed the last rack, before reaching the edge of the building, Latino saw him and opened fire.

Slow, pretty fucking slow.

Mills dashed around the corner. This was it. He slid on the floor, just to see Latino turning around to see him, his eyes went wide and fearful.

Latino pointed the gun at him but it was too late, the gun in Mills’ hand flashed once, twice, three times. His blood stained the white mattresses behind him. His hands went up, his face unbelieving. They got him. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Latino pressed the trigger and the rifle went off, firing less than five bullets before the clicking noise of an empty magazine echoed in the dark.

“You fucker!” Cellphone yelled, seeing his friend go down.

Mills rolled to cover, expecting bullets to go through his body this time.

“You stay right there!” A roaring voice said.

Beast.

“Hands up, motherfucker, don’t turn around!”

Mills peeked through a gap and saw the towering man pointing his gun at Cellphone, who looked paler than death itself.

“Do you know who this warehouse belongs to?” The man asked, his rifle still in his hands, his body stiff, looking at Mills, the question was addressed at him.

“Drop your fucking gun down or you’re dead, last call.”

“You killed Erick,” he said.

He’s not going to surrender.

“Last—”

The man jumped forward, turning to Beast mid-air, his gun went off in the dark, its barrel flashing orange, announcing death.

Mills couldn’t shoot him, it was too risky, he might hit Beast.

But his friend was smart. A true professional. He fired his gun for the first time in the evening. Cellphone was down before he hit the floor.

“Are you okay?” Beast yelled.

“Yes,” Mills replied, “what about—”

“Taken care of.”

These men. Shit. These two men were loyal. It was a shame it had to end up like this.

Tires screeched outside, a car roared alive and fled.

“Guys? What happened?” A voice said on the radio.

No answer.

“Erick? Rob?”

Beast and Mills looked at each other.

“They’re gonna be here soon,” Mills said, stating the obvious. They let one of them go, the one at the guardhouse, he heard the commotion and fled.

“Let’s finish this,” Beast said. Going outside.