Free Sunrise by Kody Boye

throughout the garage.
    Frowning, Dakota looked down at his hammer, then offered the third nail a blunt slam to the side of the head. The sound it produced was nothing compared to the explosion that happened just a moment before.
    “Dakota?” Steve’s asked, his voice’s strength wavering. “That wasn’t you, was it?”
    Dakota gulped. He leaned into the aisle and shook his head. “No. It wasn’t me.”
    Both men turned to look at the window.
    A red truck sat across from the street, four living men and a dead body in front of it.
    “Shit,” Steve breathed. “Get down, Dakota. Get down!”
    Dakota fell to the floor and waited for the sound of Steve’s footsteps to echo across the garage floor. When they didn’t, his first reaction was to peek over the top of the seats and look for him, but instinct took hold. Instead, he bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, tension rocketing through his veins like harsh drugs in an addict.
    Tell me you didn’t just flatten yourself against the hood, he thought. By God, Steve, don’t tell me you did that.
    Something dropped onto the garage floor.
    Dakota sighed.
    Someone cried out and a gunshot ripped into the garage.
    “Fuck fuck fuck!” Steve screamed, throwing himself into the vehicle just as another shot rang out. “FUCK!”
    “ARE YOU OK?” Dakota screamed.
    “No I’m not fucking ok! They’re shooting at me!”
    “ARE YOU SHOT?”
    “I’M NOT FUCKING SHOT!”
    A second, then a third shot came, followed by what sounded to be a thousand hammers echoing against the side of a mountain. A spray of debris went up along the far wall and the chain-link fence crashed open outside, its gargantuan screech slicing through Dakota’s ears and into the base of his skull.
    “Steve?” Dakota whispered.
    “What?”
    “We didn’t lock the door, did we?”
    The garage door slammed open.
    The sound of footsteps followed.
    “Kitty kitty kitty,” a voice said, gun cocking in the dead silence of the room. “Come out come out and playyyyyyy.”
    Steve reached for the gun lying on the front seat.
    “We won’t hurrrrttttt you…”
    These guys are fucking psycho. Dakota reached for his gun, but Steve shook his head and pushed a finger to his lips. Frowning, Dakota mouthed, What the hell are you doing?
    Steve mouthed back, Wait.
    The second lump in his throat now swallowed, Dakota prepared for the worst to happen.
    Someone in the garage knocked something over.
    “You fuckin’ idiot!” someone cried.
    Steve shot upright and fired a bullet out the window.
    Someone screamed.
    “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?” a second voice cried.
    A dirty grin lighting his face in a hellfire expression, Steve gestured Dakota toward his gun and eased toward the front door of the bus just as a returning shot came firing into it. Dakota, unsure of his place in the current situation, grabbed his gun, then reached for what appeared to be a box of papers.
    Steve nodded.
    Dakota raised a manila folder up in front of a window. A bullet tore through the top edge of the paper just as Steve rolled into view and fired three shots. Dakota jumped up and took a blind shot of his own before falling to the floor.
    No return gunfire followed.
    “Did you get everyone?” Dakota whispered.
    “Just wait a minute and let me check.”
    “Please,” a voice said. “Stop.”
    Dakota’s ears perked up.
    “I’m not with them,” the same voice called. “Please! Don’t shoot anymore!”
    “Throw your guns to the side!” Steve called back, pushing himself to his knees.
    “Don’t do it,” Dakota growled. “You don’t know if it’s a ploy.”
    “I shot all of them, Dakota.”
    “You don’t know if they’re all dead.”
    “I must’ve missed this guy.” Steve frowned. Six clinking noises, as though something metal had just been thrown, softened his expression. “That must be it. I want you to stand up when I do.”
    “But—”
    “Just do it.”
    Rising to his knees, Dakota took a quick breath and