Free Pandora 2: Death is not an Option by Richard McCrohan Page A

the water-soaked lawn, fired until his Uzi clicked empty. Shirtless, his skin glistening in the torrential downpour, he looked down at the weapon, pulled the clip out, and, seeing it was empty, threw the clip and the gun at his opponents. Having just shot up the last of his steroid cache, he was feeling the pump. Regina had already put a round into his massive shoulder, and Malik had taken most of his right ear off with a shot. With his diamond-studded teeth bared in a grimace, he pumped his two clenched fists together in a Hulk-inspired “crab” pose and yelled out in pure, unadulterated rage. Taking one glancing shot through the side from Paul and a through-and-through from Regina, Tank roared and ran directly at them. It was as if a huge, black train were bearing down on them. In the lights from the fires, they could see the steam from his body heat rising off him as he rushed at them.
    Malik, Regina, and Paul poured rounds into him as he stormed through the downpour like a rage-filled machine. Running across the lawn as the bullets tore holes in his gargantuan body, he started to slow. With huge gouts of blood flying behind him, he staggeredthe last few steps, his breath whistling out of the holes in his chest. Finally, facing Regina, he stopped. His face still radiating hate, he wobbled a bit then straightened. Looking him right in the face with a stoic expression, Regina raised her rifle and shot him right between the eyes. Like a tree, he fell back, his body splashing heavily in a puddle. As he lay there dead, the blood running freely from his riddled body turned the water red.
    Cpl. Rich Foley was leaning against the house, panting, when Regina came up to him. “Let’s check out what’s left in there.” She paused. “Are you okay?” When he looked at her blankly, she pointed to his shirt. “I think you’ve been shot.”
    Rich looked down. The khaki T-shirt he was wearing was four shades darker because of the soaking rain, but around his abdomen, the shirt was a dark, dark red. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. Looking up at Regina again, all the pain that the adrenaline rush had concealed hit him. His knees gave out, and he collapsed to the porch. As he bent over, grabbing his stomach, Regina looked behind him and saw an ugly, gaping wound through the tattered hole in his shirt.
    Paul and Malik came rushing up to him. “Rich!” Paul yelled. This brought Manny, Jamal, and Travis as well. Luis and Mike were still in the house. They all gathered around Rich, Manny getting on his knees and holding him. Rich looked up at him and then started coughing up blood. His coughing turned to gargling gasps. Grabbing Manny, he opened his mouth to speak…but then his eyes rolled up in his head, and he died.
    As Manny and Rich’s units were clearing out two houses of the last remnants of pirates, Sean, Jack, and Mario were still engaged in a firefight with the two remaining guards. The big biker turned to his companion and said, “This ain’t good. Let’s get the hell outta here.”
    As they moved to run away, Sean hit the other one with a direct head shot. The biker, seeing his friend go down, realized he had no chance. He threw his assault rifle out on the ground in front of him. “Okay, that’s it. I give up. Don’t shoot; I’m coming out.” Stepping out from behind his cover, he raised his hands and clasped them behind his head. He stood there, grinning at them. “You takin’ me t’ jail?”
    “Fat chance!” said Jack. Then he and the other two raiders opened fire on him.
    The rain was just starting to slow as Bouchard, feet splashing in the surf, ran down the beach. He was huffing and puffing, his long hair flying behind him and his gaudy pirate shirt plastered to his body with rain and sweat. Carol had just entered the beach behind Tommy, who was in wild chase. As the rain dwindled, the moon peeked out of the clouds and illuminated the shoreline.
    She looked at Bouchard running ahead of Tommy and said out