The Cure, стр. 13
McGregor kept the table between himself and The Beast all the time eyeing the exits and wondering how he was going to get out of this predicament. ‘OK mate, you got me,’ he conceded, dropping a half dozen cards from his sleeve and laughing. The Beast grabbed the edges of the table and threw it forwards towards McGregor who easily side stepped it.
‘Looks like you’ll be the main course McGregor,’ snarled the monster in front of him.
‘You’d feed a whole town you big idiot,’ McGregor shot back. At not one point did McGregor show any kind of stress or worry. In fact, he was completely in control.
McGregor moved towards The Beast, ducked under his arm and punch him in the throat. The Beast staggered backwards gasping for air, but still snarling. He composed himself and lumbered towards McGregor, who swung The Beast’s massive glass straight towards his head, leaving a cut and The Beast’s skull exposed. ‘Ouch’, McGregor mocked. ‘That’s going to hurt in the morning.’ The Beast shook his head and seeing double swung a fist towards McGregor. Yet again, McGregor avoided any impact and with The Beast unsteady on his feet he uppercut him so violently that his teeth ripped through his bottom lip. The next flurry of punches smashed into The Beast’s temple and his eyes rolled back into his head. He dropped like a tree being felled. ‘The bigger they are,’ McGregor mused to the patrons who were running around the bar looking to escape the skirmish. He looked towards the bar as a bullet exploded over his right ear ‘What the?’ The barman stood with his Winchester poised and McGregor threw himself to the floor avoiding the second shotgun blast. ‘For goodness sake man. It was just a game of cards.’
McGregor made for the door between gunshot blasts and lightbulbs exploding above his head. Through the doors he looked down at the bag and smiled. He would eat well tonight.
***************
A few months passed, and McGregor had decided that the cities were becoming too dangerous, even for him. He made his way through state lines and holed himself up in a ghost town in Texas. A proper cowboy town that had been vacated a long time ago. There were no people, no running water and no food. But he had enough supplies and he would have a decent roof over his head until he decided his next move.
Sat on the balcony of the town saloon he opened the tin of food with no label, from the bar brawl, and smiled to himself. ‘Evaporated milk’. He licked his lips and drank down the sugary treat. As he sat there, he heard a noise like thunder coming towards the town. He put down the tin and lifted a telescope up to his eye. A convoy of trucks were moving speedily towards the town. He quickly jumped up and ran down the stairs as the trucks and jeeps stopped in the high street. Moving downstairs, he made his way to a window and listened to what was going on outside.
‘Take trucks one through ten to entrance A and the jeeps through B,’ said a man in military kit to another. ‘There’s twelve more trucks and five armored cars to come,’ said the man.
‘Is that everyone?’ said the other man loudly.
‘Yes, Trailblazer is safe and the remainder of Operation Cure complete,’ he replied, saluted and walked away.
’De Mario,’ the man summoned over another soldier. ‘Look, I know you don’t know all these other men, but I need you to pick ten guys and give the town the once over. We cannot afford for anyone to know what’s going on here, or the whole operation is blown. Just a precaution.’
McGregor stepped back from the window and looked around for somewhere to hide. The town wasn’t big, and he knew he could be easily found if someone was looking hard enough. He heard the soldier De Mario shouting orders outside the window and men scrambling towards the empty shops and the saloon.
The door opened and a pasty-faced youngster, no older than 21 walked through to the bar area, rifle out in front of him. McGregor took a step back in the cupboard he had hidden in, watching the soldier through a crack in the door. After a few minutes the soldier who had been looking upstairs throughout the bedrooms came downstairs and McGregor realized that he would at some point come looking in the cupboard. Having left himself no escape route he pulled a large knife from his jeans in readiness for what might come next.
The soldier’s boots clumped down the stairs and he was looking around the bar area. Only the cupboard remained unopened and the soldier’s footsteps slowly moved towards McGregor. He lifted the knife.
The soldier turned the door handle and the door started to open. McGregor considered pushing the door open quickly and surprising the soldier, but then he heard a muffled shout from outside and the soldier started to walk away from the cupboard. McGregor breathed a sigh of relief and took a step towards the door to watch the soldier.
The soldier had almost reached the door of the saloon when he suddenly stopped. He felt a warmth come over his face. His hand reached for his neck gasping for breath and unsuccessfully trying to scream for help. Blood trickled down his inside of his throat choking him.
McGregor was stood behind him with his knife drawn and dripping blood onto the floor. He cushioned the soldier to the ground and placed his fingers either side of the man’s nose and covered his mouth until the labored breathing had stopped completely.
McGregor then started to remove the soldier’s fatigues. McGregor had had an idea that might just save his life.
Chapter Seven
Choosing