(Book 3) Left 4 Dead 3: Dry County

2.8

Fright was clear in Brenan's eyes, his heavy breaths contracted by the man's arm. He shivered as the sentiment of being hair-thin close to his demise casted a weight upon his chest. The man in all black grinned as he pushed his gun on the paramedic's temple. Brenan flinched in fear, the warm muzzle scorching on his head.

"This ain't over yet, pals!" The man snarled. He gasped for air and grinned.

The heroes raised their guns against them, while the sheriff made a few steps forward and confronted him. "Let the kid go, pard," he encouraged. "He ain't done nothing wrong."

"Oh, everyone does wrong, sheriff," the slick man rebutted and turned to Jess. "Eversince The Lord created heaven and earth it all went downhill from there, ain't that right, sister?"

The nun remained silent and kept her fiery glares darted at him.

"He thought killing His own Son would've fixed everything, but it didn't work. The world became more evil until it succumbed to the very depths of its own wickedness. And now... God's had it with us. So He unleashed these demonic things and brought hell unto humanity," he continued. "Life is short to try hard and be good in an already bad world."

"Well you better enjoy your remaining time in this bad world, slick," The nun rebutted. "Coz' I'll make life shorter for you."

The strange man sneered. "As you can see..." he trailed off and got an eyeful of his hostage. "...You're not really in the position to give that ultimatum ain't ya'?" He taunted the woman as he pushed his pistol on Brenan's head harder. The paramedic's face was contorted in fear and grief. As his eyes were tightly knitted, he watched his entire life play in his mind. He had lived his life too short. He can feel his lungs being crumpled like a paper, his airways contracting, his hair soaked in sweat dripping overhead. All as he bargained his plea deals with the angel of death, that his life-albeit miserable-wouldn't end just like this, right here, right now, in the middle of a nonsense standoff.

"This is gonna end one way or another," the man continued. "Poor doc here with a slug buried inside his skull, or me getting out here in one piece."

"Or... It's gonna be you for the zombies' main course, and him for dessert." Jess declared as she flashed a deadly smirk towards the medic, who then avenged her with a dumbfounded look. "Doesn't seem like there's gonna be a single piece of you left," she directed back at the shady man.

Brenan's consciousness fell in total paralysis when he heard Jess and caught up on what she meant. His eyes bulged out of his sockets. He felt like his heart just popped a nerve, and his knees turned into jelly. "What're ya' talkin' about?" He uttered in disbelief. Part of him thought-and hoped-she was bluffing.

Dwain and the sheriff gave her their side eyes, somewhat surprised with what she just said. "Sister, what are you doing?" The ebony whispered angrily. "You gone get doc killed!"

But the nun was deaf of his uproars and made a couple of steps forward, a wide gap dividing between her and the slick man. Her furious eyes were firmly fixed towards him, showing him what the look of someone who doesn't have a single blot of empathy in her heart is like.

"At this rate, you're still lucky I don't have a gun right now since you've mostly outgunned me, I'll give you that," Jess proceeded. "Otherwise, I would've put two in that hillbilly's empty head already, and then yours. So go ahead, pull the trigger. One way or another, your greasy ass is gonna drop dead."

"Oh God no!" Brenan exclaimed. "Have you completely lost any sense in yer head, sister?!"

Those words compelled a subtle decline on the slick man's confidence, she could see right through him. He looked to and fro with malice. He saw all of them with their guns raised, surrounding him. There was an increase of stress rambling within him. His breaths became deeper, a little rapid, as if the supply of air suddenly dwindled.