The priest tossed the cigarette butt into the grass. Only the faded blue hues of the night sky lingered above. It was a bright crescent moon. “I reckon we outta head out soon,” the priest said.
“Tonight?” asked Oren.
“Yup.”
“Well what’s the plan, Jack?”
He looked up to the sky to see the stars speckled against the black void as he stroked his beard. “I don’t suppose I have much of one,” the priest said. “Them two boys are slippery as a snake. It don’t do to make a plan. Just stay one step ahead of em’”
“Any ideas?”
“Just one. We scope out the sheriff’s department. That’s where you’re brother and Fornier probably are. The Nine certainly know that. If there’s a time to strike, it would be tonight.”
Oren nodded. “You think we can get him outta there?”
“Who?”
“My brother.”
“Well, if them boys fuck enough shit up, we could probably bust him out without anyone noticing.”
“Will he be a fugitive?”
“Dunno. He’ll be either that or presumed dead, especially if they burn the place down. Either way, he’ll be better out here than in there.”
“What are you gonna do after you kill em?”
“They ain’t whom I’m after.”
“Castor?”
“Yup.”
The sound of crickets filled the long pause. Oren was still holding the .38 in his hand. He held it up and looked at it. “I ain’t never killed anyone,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it,” the priest told him. “They haven’t been alive for a long time. They’ve only been delaying the inevitable.”
“And what about you?”
The priest said nothing to that. He checked his 12 gauge Mossberg and slung a satchel of ammunition over his shoulder. Oren didn’t know what to do with the .38. “So I’ve been wondering,” he said. “If I shot you, you wouldn’t die?”
“Is that what you’ve been thinking about all day?” the priest asked him.
Oren only replied with a smirk.
“There’s only one way to find out for sure,” the priest said. He faced Oren head on and spread his arms out like an open target. Oren froze. “If you want to know what it’s like to shoot someone, here’s your chance,” the priest taunted.
Oren lifted and aimed the pistol. He squeezed the trigger the bullet whizzed past the Priest’s head. It was exhilarating. The priest checked himself to make sure he wasn’t hit. “You know what,” he said, “maybe you should take the shotgun.”
They exchanged weapons and as the priest turned around and walked back towards the church, Oren lifted the shotgun and blasted one round in his direction. The priest winced and grabbed the back of his neck where a few pieces of shrapnel hit him. “Jesus Christ!” he screeched. Oren was momentarily stunned. He ran up to the priest. “Oh fuck! I’m sorry!”. But the priest looked at his blood covered hand and cursed. “Bullets can’t kill me but they certainly hurt like shit, you fuckin asshole!”
TO BE CONTINUED…