Madly

Chapter 2

Max

It had been just over an hour after the shoot-out and we returned to the scene that left our friends dead. I was shocked by the amount of blood that was smeared over the floors as I looked over the bodies of the first mate and the captain. As I saw the captain lie dead the thought of who was now in control and command of the ship hit me; I looked behind to France who stood transfixed on the group of corpses that lay by my feet. I felt sorry for her, I knew she didn't mind the sight of blood, but she was friendly with these people, I was less so. I mainly kept to myself but France enjoyed the company of all of the crew the ship had ever had and they enjoyed her presence. I knelt down and collected the handguns of the men and as I did I noticed the pistol of the first mate I had taken up to hand France, I picked it up and realised it had no magazine. My heart sank as I began to understand that in that terrible situation I had given her a gun that she wasn't able to protect herself with, I felt an incredible sense of guilt. France tapped me on the shoulder.

"Can't we figure out what to do with them in the morning?" She said sounding uneasy. "Could we-"

"Yes, sorry." I replied still distracted by the thought of what would have occurred if I had given her a working gun.

I cast the unloaded weapon aside and picked up the captains. I checked the ammunition. Although it was half full it did mean it only contained a single bullet. I wasn't in the military any more, not only were civilian handguns slow to operate they were also incredibly low capacity. I thought they were also low calibre but seeing that bullet pass though my shoulder I thought against that as a fact. Taking a bullet from my belt I reloaded the gun and offended it to her.

"You know how I feel about guns." France shook her head. "Also I've never used one; I would be useless."

"What if you need to protect yourself?" I pleaded with her to take it.

"I have you to protect me." she told me innocently.

"Okay. I pray I don't need to again." I told her.

I was for a short time in the marines and I had gotten good at handling weapons, especially handguns, so I would be confident at protecting her if a firefight broke out again. However my ability to fix and modify components and spaceships greatly exceeds my accuracy with a firearm or manual ship turret so I spent most of that career out of harms way.

We entered the lounge and I kicked the bullet-hole ridden table aside I counted three bodies and calculated that there was one left that was unaccounted for. I noticed a trail of blood leading out of the corridor that led to the other bedrooms and figured that someone had dragged themselves across the floor after getting shot. I readied my weapon and looked back to see France keeping her distance from me; I figured if someone had managed to crawl away from the action they could have survived. I figured from the amount of blood smeared on the floor that they must have bled to death. I advanced cautiously however a crack of a pistol sounded and I felt a round cut through the air around me and then several clicks which told me that the gun that had fired the bullet had wasted its last. I looked down and saw a figure slumped against the wall that suddenly clawed out at me. A piercing pain erupted in my leg and I realised I had been slashed with a knife, I cried out in frustration and released my anger and pain through powerfully kicking the figure several times. When I finally stopped kicking I fell to the side and pointed my gun at them. They were slumped in a pool of their own blood, I saw several bloodied areas where I assumed bullets had entered and realised they no longer posed a threat by the way their head had fallen on one side. Looking closer at the now corpse I realised that my metal tipped boots had mangled their neck, I cringed although was somewhat impressed with my skill.

France rushed to my side.

"Max! Are you shot again?" she asked as her hands and eyes skimmed my torso for evidence of impact. "What happened?"