Harris

[Saggy]

So I was writing this and I must have got side tracked with something because I went back today and read it. I was trying to make something as detailed and "in the moment" as possible without including background story or "plot". Just pure action, but I had to put a little character in there just to make it a bit more interesting.

 

So anyway, what do you guys think of the action? I've already read it so many times it's old and stale to me already.

 

...

 

 

 

There are two types of people in this world as far as he's concerned.  Those who talk about it, and those who do it.  He was definitely the latter, cruising along the broken and warped pavement of an old back street looking for what needed to be done.  The contours of the car dipped in and out of the dull yellow glow of the street lamps slower and slower as he pulled up to the curb and looked at himself in the rear view mirror:  They called him Harris.

 

Amongst the image of trees, run down Victorian houses with chipping paint and worn shingles, decorated by gang graffiti, trash and a random shot-up car sitting on blocks with an array of glass bottles used for target practice lined down the hood there was a darkened figure that seemed to blend into the night.  The houses were shut up with composite board, and the windows comprised of a mix of see-through plastic and blue tarps taped, sewn or stapled together to cover up the holes in the glass.  In the foreground of the image sat a man removed, his eyes the only visible part of him in the extreme darkness of the nigh aside from the small clouds of cigarette smoke illuminated by the moonlight.  He sat and watched them swirl around, floating effortlessly through the fluid of air.

 

Every once in a while a dog or cat would run across the street, even more intermittently a person would creep in and out of the shadows into the glow of the street lamps.  His ash tray was full of cigarettes, his car filled with a haze of smoke.  His eyes wander from one shadow to another, revealing the hidden world of the night.  A couple of thugs on their porch up the block, an old man in his shoddy recliner out back, and then as suddenly as a man appeared in the lamp-light, they disappeared with a loud bang and a clash of glass on the steel top of the cars as the entire area became enriched in pitch blackness.

 

Harris jumped over the center console, opened up the glove box and grabbed a flash light and his piece,  as bullets tore through the car missing him by inches, speckling him with glass and plastic.  The door handle on the passenger side explodes under the force of a bullet as he reaches for it, sending splinters of metal screws and springs into his face and hand.  It won't open, he cannot see the damage to work around it in the dark; he covers his face and shoots a few rounds at the window.  The sound from the magnum is horrendous in the small cab of the car, but it only hurts for the first shot, and as he crawled out through the window of the car he could not hear the footsteps of his assailant through the ringing in his ears, but rather could only feel subtle the changes in air pressure as bullets ripped through the air disturbing the air-space inches from his head into a turbulent, screeching line of death.

 

The closest cover is an unknown object, massive in size, the only bit of it he can see is it's massive darkened outline in the night sky, much larger and darker than all the rest.  He could no longer feel his hand as he reached the cover of what turned out to be a huge tree.  Harris threw open the barrel of the revolver and felt the back of the bullets for the tell-tale dimple that meant it had been fired, but he couldn't remember how many shots he had fired and could not really determine what was fired and what wasn't through the pain in his hand.

 

The flashlight illuminated the entire base of the tree, and in a split second he could see four rounds left in the gun, he hung the lanyard of the light off a small twig on the tree and quickly retreated into the darkness.  No longer able to see where he ran, he tripped over something long and round, and became completely tangled inside of it and disoriented without any light; slowly he wiggled and writhed around until the tree base came into view, and the only visible landmark in the entire universe at that very moment..  As he wrestled on the ground trying to free himself, Harris saw the other man walk into the illumination emanating from the flashlight.  Seizing his chance, he wrestled the magnum up against the strain of his unknown captor, and fired off all four rounds into the other man's chest.  The huge flash of the big gun not only revealed the way to untangle the garden hose hindering his escape, but the four men with rifles running for cover,  on their way to finish the other man's job.

 

Reaching down he pulled a knife, and began cutting at the garden hose.  As the ringing slowly diminished, the quiet sound of the men's footsteps breaking twigs and leaves became the loudest and most prominent sound, growing louder and louder by every moment the knife struggled to cut through the thick rubber and fabric of the hose.  As the knife made the last cut, a huge tension was released and he simply ran from from the tangle, almost tripping and falling onto his knife but eventually running out of danger.

 

As he made some distance, he heard his pursuers make the same mistake he had and find themselves ensnared by the darkness and the hidden obstacles of the yard.  As he listened to to them clamoring on the ground over the dull ring in his ears, he flanked back to the flashlight left on the tree.  More than once he tripped over a piece of pavement raised up by a tree root, but finally he made it to the flashlight.  Picking up the  the dead man's gun, the receiver was barely visible by a small glint of its glossy black finish.  Shining the light on his opponents, Harris shot the instant his sights were over one men's heart.  As he watched his shirt dimple and tear as the man's body reacted, the image went out as he clicked off the flash light and ran left the moment bullets tore through the air in his direction.

 

Harris ran low, standing behind cars just in case he cast a shadow or walked into a better lit area,  As he came upon a dull illumination of a street lamp, he stood just outside the circle, flipped the light on and shot one of the men, then watched as they tried to figure out where it came from.  With each shot and flash of the light, they had more progress in escaping the trap and as he prepared to shoot the last one, he was no longer there.  His ears still ringing he could not hear the man's footsteps, and he could not use the light or it would expose his position.

 

Ever so slowly, he walked where he thought the man would be heading: Into the nearest house.  Edging up to the living room window, he peeked into the house and saw him inside, gun pointing at a young couple that was eating dinner.  Their lips moved, but he could not make out the words.  Still as the barrel of the mans' gun rose toward the head of the couple, it became clear what was about to happen and again Harris seized his opportunity.  Instantly the gun in his hand rose to the window sill and he began firing, but no bullets came out.  He heard nothing, but felt the "click, click, click" and jumped as bullets tore through the window and wall from whence he was standing.

 

Finding himself falling down, he realized that he had just stepped into a basement window access, and that he could get into the house without being seen.  As he slowly pried open the window, he noticed how much his hand was bleeding as the knife handle slid back and forth in his hand, pushing piece of shrapnel deeper into his flesh.  Finally just as he thought he might actually bleed out trying to get in, the knife caught the metal latch of the window, and Harris was able to open it without sound.

 

No longer sure of where the man was in the house, he only turned the flashlight on in short bursts.  His surroundings were full of cover.  Old boxes filled to the top with books, furniture made of what looked like very heavy wood, and best of all fluorescent light tubes.  Quickly he set about removing the lights from their fixtures and setting them on the stairs leading down to the basement.  He found an old towel and wrapped one up in it, quietly stomping on it while in the towel, and spreading the shards at the base of the stairwell entrance.

 

There was an old refrigerator facing the staircase with a strong light still plugged in and Harris tied a rope made of bungee ties salvaged from the corner around its handle , closed the door and headed back to the side of the stairwell entrance, laying flat against the side of the wall just out side the entrance.  he put the empty rounds from his gun into the can, and threw it against the wall, making it huge clamor followed by the men's footsteps up to the door.  It flung open, casting a small amount of light from the hallway the other man stood in, but quickly he realized the mistake and turned it out.  Harris tried listening to the man's foot steps coming, but  he  heard nothing but a bit of warping wood and his own heartbeat.  Listening intently, he heard the first, "pop" as the opponent stood onto and broke the first light tube, he nearly jumped out of his skin with anticipation.  Hoping it would make the man think he was being shot at, instead it simply made Harris aware of exactly where the gunman was as he said, "I'm not falling for that."

 

Another pop rang out, and the man says, "Heh, I guess I'm not as dumb as you thought" pop, pop, "I guess that means you're not as smart as I thought..."  As the words left his mouth, they were punctuated by a loud crunch instead of a pop, and as the man said, "What the f*ck?" Harris barely heard the difference in acoustics  that indicated his opponent  was outside of the stairwell and stepping on the broken glass.  He pulled the fridge door, lighting the room. Harris stood behind the man as he turned to face the fridge, and as shots flew into the refrigerator Harris grabbed the man's forehead backward, and ran the knife through his neck from ear to ear.  The man dropped instantly, gasping and gurgling as the sound of blood dripped on the floor deafened partially by the clatter of heavy steel and wood rattling about as the rifle fell to earth, glass and plastic still falling from the fridge's new bullet holes,  and milk pouring out of the carton like a fountain, turning the whole scene into a grotesque image of bullet spattered food, smoke, and almost as much blood on the ground as there was milk.

 

He walked back up the stairs, and saw the couple cowering against each other on the couch, frozen in fear as he raised the dead man's gun up and shot each up of them in the head.  Witnesses cannot be afforded, and he had no sympathy for them being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  The job was done and that's all he cared about.

 

Walking out of the house, reaching for a cigarette, he can hear sirens in the distance like seeing the forest through the trees, but pays no attention to a  street full of police with guns pointed at his chest, dogs ripping at a chain to come and get him, and a man on a bullhorn telling him to put his weapon down.  Harris didn't falter, continued to light the cigarette and walked straight toward his car, and as he reached for his lighter, shots ripped the air and tore through his body.  As he walked deeper into the oncoming wall of lead, the cigarette grew closer to his mouth as he did to the ground, and when he inhaled that sweet first drag of a cigarette, his face smashed against the ground as he finally hit the dirt.  Unable to feel anything more, he sucked in that last sweet drag and relished in a job well done.

[Canofceleri]

This is actually quite bad ass, I enjoyed it. Your details are nice, I could easily visualize everything. There are some things that could be improved, small words that could be taken away for a greater sense of immediacy. Like...

 

Walking out of the house, reaching for a cigarette, he can hear sirens

 

I think would sound better...

 

Walking out of the house, reaching for a cigarette, he hears sirens

 

If you can cut down on certain words like that, it'd be good. But overall, nice piece.