I stitched him from pelvis to throat — a merciless line of bullets ripping through his stomach, lungs, and neck.
He screamed — a wet, gurgling howl — blood spraying from his mouth like a fountain as he dropped to his knees, clutching his shredded belly. His intestines slipped out between his fingers in steaming ropes. He toppled sideways, twitching, blood pooling rapidly beneath him.
The twitchy one tried to run — three frantic steps.
I shot him in the back of both knees first, dropping him screaming. Then I walked forward calmly and emptied half a magazine into his writhing body.
Bullets tore through his spine, lungs, and skull. His body danced on the sand like a broken puppet, blood misting the air with every impact. When I finally stopped, he was nothing but a shredded, leaking corpse.
The entire camp exploded into pure pandemonium.
