Read The Left Series (Book 2): Left Alone for Free Online

opened up with a blind burst of fire across the shore above our heads.
    Shaved Head screamed something unintelligible and bounded back onto the Navy vessel. He moved behind the wheel and fired up the boat’s engine. Floppy Hat backed onto the boat, firing intermittently as he moved. He removed the grappling hook from the side of our boat then grabbed Long Hair by the arm and tried to drag him onto the Navy vessel.
    Smith’s Desert Eagle bullets smashed into the Navy boat’s structure and around the machine gun mounting. He obviously couldn’t get another clear shot on Long Hair and Floppy Hat or the driver. The guy opened up with the heavy machine gun, its rapid fire rasped through the long grass and the bullets destroyed anything in their path. Pieces from fiber glass boats and sparks from the oil drums dispersed into the air like confetti as the rounds showered the shoreline.
    I aimed my Glock at Floppy Hat and fired off a couple of rounds. Floppy Hat screamed and clutched at his shoulder. He let go of Long Hair’s arm and tumbled backwards onto the Navy boat’s deck.
    I worried that Smith was hit but then heard a couple of his rounds blast at the Navy boat in retaliation to the machine gun burst. We were no match for their fire power and had limited ammunition. I hadn’t even bought a spare clip ashore with me. The Glock-22 magazine held fifteen rounds and I’d already fired around five or six shots.
    Shaved Head steered the Navy vessel away from our boat and circled around the marina at high speed. The machine gunner let rip with another burst of fire. This time he aimed below the water line at the hull of our boat. I heard the rounds thud into our boat’s side before the Navy vessel sped out of the marina back onto the river.
    I crouched behind the trailer for a few seconds, trying to process what had just happened in the last few minutes.
    “Wilde, are you okay?” I heard Smith’s voice from somewhere in the long grass.
    I gave myself a quick once over.
    “Yeah, I’m not hit,” I sighed.
    I saw Smith striding towards the jetty. My legs felt shaky as I stood and followed Smith towards the wreck of our boat.
    Smith put on his shades and made straight for Long Hair, who lay on the deck on his back, gasping and whimpering in pain. I crouched beside Sherman. He was still breathing, albeit in wheezing rasps. I looked at the wound in his side and saw blood pooling from an ugly hole behind his left front leg. His side rose and fell with his rapid breathing and he looked at me with sad, brown eyes as if asking me why this had happened. Tears welled in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.
    “I’m so sorry, boy,” I sniffed.
    All he was trying to do was protect us. I’d met Sherman in Manhattan and we’d both escaped with our lives when the odds were highly stacked against us. Now, poor Sherman was dying on the deck, needlessly caused by the action of some greedy asshole. I gently stroked the center of his head with my fingers. He huffed and his tongue lolled from his mouth.
    I looked over at Smith. He was standing over Long Hair, pointing the Desert Eagle at his head. Smith bent down and picked up Long Hair’s hand gun. He examined the piece, turning it over in his hand.
    “Springfield XD, used to be military issue,” he mumbled.
    “Come on, man, you got to help me with my fucking leg,” Long Hair whined in a southern accent.
    “Does it hurt bad?”
    Long Hair nodded. His right leg was burst open at the knee joint and shards of wrecked, white bone and bloody tissue were visible inside the open wound. Flaps of loose, bloodstained skin surrounded the horrific injury and blood pooled on the deck underneath his leg. I didn’t share one jot of sympathy for the prick and neither did Smith.
    “But does it hurt real bad?”
    “Yeah, it hurts so fucking bad, man,” Long Hair screeched. He rolled around the deck in agony as he spoke. “You got to help me.”
    “Okay, I’ll help you,” Smith muttered then