Sam reached into her purse, pulled out the sawed off shotgun and tossed it to Varner. Varner turned gleefully towards Priscilla and pulled the first trigger. Priscilla's eyes bulged in fear and Sam had the distinct pleasure of seeing Priscilla lifted off her feet and blown backwards, her chest full of lead.
Iosef fired his massive revolver and hit Varner in the shoulder, spinning him around like a top. Varner fired the second barrel of the shotgun wildly, peppering Iosef with bullets, but he was farther away than Priscilla had been and the shot wasn't as devastating. Both men went down.
Sam ran to Arthur and stifled a gasp. Arthur was in his underpants and drenched in blood, barely conscious, and muttering incoherently. She pulled him gently off the wagon wheel and he half-fell, half-jumped into a gibbering hug that made it hard for Sam to breathe.
“Arthur...Arthur, you’re choking me!” Sam choked.
“Sorry!” Arthur was crying, his tears streaming down his filthy face to make clean spots in the mud and blood that caked his cheeks. “I wanted you to come, but I really, really hoped that you would just get smart and leave town!”
“Hey! Do I seem like the kind of girl who skips town when somebody needs her?” Sam asked indignantly.
Arthur tried to laugh, but ended up wincing. “I suppose not.” He finally took a moment to look at Sam’s outfit. “Good Lord! What are you wearing? And your hair! What the hell happened while I was out here?”
Sam grinned sheepishly. Arthur was basically drooling over her as he looked her up and down repeatedly, evidently unsure which parts of her he found most appealing. “I needed to flirt my way past Varner’s guards so I could make this deal with him,” she explained.
“Well no wonder it worked!” Arthur exclaimed. “You look incredibly sexy! I mean...not that you don’t always look sexy, it’s just that right now...you know...with your legs in that skirt with the heels and ummm…what I mean to say is that we’re going straight back to your bedroom, right?”
Sam laughed. “Shut up, you idiot. We’re going straight to the hospital, not to bed.”
+
Arthur hadn’t actually expected Sam to take him anywhere besides the hospital, and frankly, he doubted very much that he was in any condition to do anything beyond pass out in a bed. But it had been worth it to see the smile on her face.
A groan from behind Sam made Arthur look over her shoulder. Iosef was trying to rise from the pile of straw he had landed in after being shot, but the task proved too much for him. He leaned forward enough to see in front of him, raised his gun, and fired. Arthur grabbed Sam and spun her around so she was behind him.
Arthur’s right ass cheek suddenly felt like it was on fire. The bullet had grazed his buttock, which was extremely painful, but not as painful as seeing that same bullet travel into Sam’s side and knock her to the ground.
Enraged, Arthur grabbed the nearest weapon at hand, in this case a pitchfork hanging on the barn wall, and rammed it into Iosef’s chest. Iosef collapsed back onto his straw and Arthur scrambled over to where Sam had landed.
“Don’t be dead, don’t be dead,” Arthur pleaded. He knelt beside Sam. Blood was streaming out of her bullet wound. “Oh Jesus!”
“Jesus isn’t going to drive us to the hospital,” Sam groaned. “So get your ass in gear and help me up. And I swear to God if you say I’m too heavy I will kill you right now. You have no idea what I went through to get this skirt on and I’ll be damned if the last thing anyone ever says to me is that I’m fat!”
Arthur pulled Sam to her feet, luckily without incident, and helped her to the truck. The adrenaline from getting shot in the ass was still pumping through his veins as he started the truck and sped off towards the hospital.
+
Not a lot of blood covered men in their mid-twenties wearing only underpants that have a bloody gash across the rear come into the Port Haven emergency room and they certainly aren’t propping up their girlfriend who is dressed like a fashion model except for the gunshot wound to her abdomen. Thus, Arthur felt he owed the people in the waiting room, including the hospital staff, a little grace when most of them screamed.
“We require some fairly severe medical attention,” Arthur explained to the receptionist.
The receptionist, who still hadn’t closed her mouth after seeing Arthur walk through the front doors, hit the button on her phone that activated the intercom and shouted, “A little help out here!”
Half a dozen men and women came running. Three of them took Arthur and thee grabbed Sam. Arthur’s adrenaline was finally wearing off and he felt himself losing consciousness. “Careful,” he muttered sleepily, “she’s a keeper.”
+
Arthur woke up from a terrifyingly vivid dream about Desiree standing over him with a sharp knife and jabbing him in the ribs repeatedly to find Desiree actually standing over him with a sharp knife and jabbing him repeatedly in the ribs to wake him up. Naturally, Arthur screamed and his first instinctive response was to throw the thin blue hospital blanket up at Desiree to block her vision.
Unfortunately, though when Arthur thought about the luck he’d been having lately, not at all unexpectedly, Arthur was naked underneath that blanket. That did not stop him from rolling painfully out of bed and tackling Desiree, wrapping her up in blue cloth. Desiree squirmed and kicked at him from under the blanket while Arthur screamed for help.
Desiree slashed through the blanket with her knife and, still unable to see, began stabbing wildly at Arthur. Having not fully recovered from whatever pain medication the doctors had given him, Arthur jabbed frantically with his bony elbow at where he thought Desiree’s head was. He connected a few times, but then she kneed him in the groin and shoved him off of her so she could flee into the deserted hospital corridor.
Arthur sat on the floor panting and gasping for breath. His ass hurt from where he had been shot and the rest of him hurt from being tortured by Priscilla for hours on end. “Are there no nurses or doctors on this floor?” Arthur shouted at the hallway.
Two nurses came in looking thoroughly confused. Both were exceptionally tall, one a brunette and one a blonde. They looked to be about Arthur’s age, which was confusing to him because he didn’t remember ever seeing them around town before. “You should not be out of bed,” the blonde nurse chided him in a thick russian accent.
The brunette picked Arthur up gently and helped him back into bed. “There was a woman here trying to kill me,” Arthur tried to explain. “See the rip in my blanket? She had a knife!”
Blonde nurse looked skeptically from Arthur to the ripped blanket and back again. “We will get you a new blanket. Are you comfortable?”
“Comfortable? No, I’m not comfortable! My missing friend’s girlfriend just tried to murder me! Again!” Arthur tried to sit up, but the brown haired nurse put a hand on his chest. “Jesus, you’re strong.”
She smiled at him. She had a very warm smile. “You are just exhausted from your ordeal.” Just like the blonde nurse she had a thick russian accent.
“And what an ordeal it was, I’m sure. But how rude of me! I am Nurse Cramer and this is Nurse Duckett,” the blonde nurse told him.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Arthur,” he responded cautiously.
“We know.” Nurse Cramer smiled at him, but unlike Nurse Duckett, her smile did not make him feel at ease. She pointed to his chart. “You’ve been through quite a lot. What exactly happened to you?”
“It’s a long story.” Arthur was having trouble keeping his eyes open again.
“An exciting one though, yes?” Nurse Cramer sat by his bed and put her hand on top of his. Arthur suddenly understood why Nurse Cramer made him feel uncomfortable, it seemed like she was flirting with him and it made him feel supremely ill at ease. Even Sam had never bothered flirting with him, she had simply gotten him drunk and then tricked him into kissing her.
“Sure, lot’s of gunfire and intrigue,” Arthur murmured. “My beautiful girlfriend rescued me, though. Does my chart say anything about her? Is she alright? She got shot in the stomach by the same bullet that hit my ass.” Arthur drifted back to sleep.
+
Teddy Peterson was looking at naughty pictures of Mexican girls with big butts on his phone when the back entrance to the grocery store burst open. Teddy yelped and dropped his phone, but he raised his gun and only sounded a little afraid when he asked, “Who’s there?”
Mr. Varner stepped forward, grabbed Teddy by the throat with his right hand, and shoved him up against the wall. “You ever ask me such a rude question in my own store again and I’ll kill you, do you hear me, you little shit?”
It was obvious that Mr. Varner had been shot in the left shoulder and that he was in a very, very bad mood. “Yes, Mr. Varner, sir!” Teddy gulped nervously.
Varner released him and wandered into his office. He looked like shit, but Teddy wasn’t about to say any such thing. His shirt was covered in blood from his shoulder and his pants were muddy up to the knees like he’d been walking on a dirt road for a really long time.
“Call over to the hospital and get me a doctor sent here who knows how to keep his God-damn mouth shut,” Varner commanded gruffly.
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