Uncut

By Jay Nystrom

Bahia, Brasil 1998

I stumbled slightly, the wounds screaming at me to stop moving… I would not. The night air was cool but I could feel the heat of the gunshots in my leg and shoulder, the older blood that had coated my right hand and forearm had dried, plastering my shirt to my arm like paper mache. That greedy bastard had taken my emeralds and the considerable amount of cash in my pockets, he would pay with his life. My body had protested every step but in less then an hour I had made it into town, the thing about amateur thieves is that they liked to talk; braggarts and idiots the fucking lot of them.
The loud music and cheering emitted from the little bar told me I had found the place, I looked through an open window and saw Thiago dancing like a fucking moron. My former partner and friend celebrating my death just a touch prematurely, I entered the bar but barely got a second glance. I fumbled for my pistol and leveled it with an unsure left hand, I was close enough that it hardly mattered. He turned as I squeezed the trigger, the bullet caught him high in the chest and he painted the table behind him with his blood.
I knelt to the best of my ability and took the folded white packet of jewels from his pants, I made it into the street before my body betrayed my rage. I hit the ground hard, the dust danced and swirled with each labored breath I had left. I managed to move the biggest emerald to my face and with squinted eye I held it towards a light. It sparkled and shone with the delicious light of a good rock, my world went green… then faded to black.

End