The Street Rat 104

Crack.

The gunshot echoed nearby, and screams rang out. Stray animals ran past them farther into the alley, fleeing from the sound.

Eddie and Maria leaped to their feet as Tomas and Alex instinctively raced for their makeshift shelter.

“You two lay low,” Maria told them in a hushed tone. “We’re going to go check out what’s happening.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t stay with them?” Eddie asked, looking back to the boys crawling into the shelter made of wooden pallets, cardboard, a tarp, and heaps of blankets. “What if something happens to us? They’ll be on their own.”

“I’m not losing you, Eddie. You’re just as much my family as they are. I know you go up against dangerous people every day, but you haven’t gone up against people with guns before. I’m not letting you face that alone.”

Eddie stared into Maria’s eyes and took a second to appreciate the family he had found. “Okay. I’m with you. Let’s go see what’s happening.”

The two crept out of the alleyway, peering around the corner, to find the street was empty, as people fled the scene. Shouts came from the store up the block, so they headed that way.

Crack.

Another gunshot tore through the shouts and sirens as Eddie and Maria sprinted to get to the shop. They pulled up after crossing the street and looked in the shop’s window. Inside, a stocky man wore a mask, holding a gun and standing just inside the shop’s entrance. They slowly backtracked down the sidewalk, jogged down the alley connected to the store, and snuck in the back door.

Crack.

A bullet buried itself in the door frame as Eddie pushed through the back door. Wooden splinters fell around him as he ran inside. Another man with a gun had been waiting at that door and had fired as soon as it opened. Eddie dove for the man’s knees, knocking him down. Eddie kicked the man’s hand, trying to dislodge the gun from his grip. When he finally succeeded, it clattered onto the breakroom floor.

Another crack popped, though this one wasn’t fired from a gun. The gunman returned Eddie’s gesture of kicking his gun out of his hand with a kick to Eddie’s head.

“Not fair,” Eddie groaned, covering his burning ear. “I only kicked your hand. That was not at all equal payback, even if I did kick it three times. Three kicks to the hand is, like, one to the knee or shoulder. Like ten hand kicks would be a rib kick. And it would take at least five rib kicks to earn a head kick. Have you no honor?”

Another crack sounded, and Eddie threw his arms over his head, pulling his knees to his face. After seconds of nothing happening, Eddie relaxed and looked over his shoulder to see Maria staring down at him while the gunman lay on the floor, unconscious.

“Are you going to help me at all or just keep talking about idiotic pain equivalencies?” she asked, still holding the folding chair in her hands.

“It’s called data. These are objective facts I am giving, nothing idiotic—”

“I’m taking this gun and walking into the store now. Are you coming?”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Eddie mumbled, getting to his feet, rubbing a lump forming behind his ear.

Eddie followed Maria to the door. He reached out for the handle and took a deep breath as his hand rested on the brass knob. He looked at Maria, inhaled as she nodded to him, and opened the wooden door.

Crack.

A bullet ripped through the door, sending more splinters into the air. Eddie and Maria dropped to the ground as the door continued to open.

Crack.

Crack.

Bullets went through the spot the two had just been standing in as the door had swung fully open. Diving behind the counter, they dodged more bullets that sprayed the walls, shattering the glass case of tobacco products.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

Their backs against the counter, the two shared a hurried look at one another. Maria signaled for Eddie to crawl to the side of the counter, while she went to the other end. Eddie shut his eyes but nodded and inched his way along the counter towards the soda fountain.

What in the world are we doing? Yes, I have a history of foolishly entering dangerous situations, but not ones with guns! Why am I leaving the safety of the counter? We should have just closed the door and walked back out when those first gunshots came this way. I could probably make it out the back right now, actually. The door is right there—NO. Maria would be toast. She’s counting on me. I guess a good death is a reward in itself. Or something like that. It should at least get an obit in the local paper. Not a biography, but, I mean, it’s something. The Street Rat Dies after Bringing These Hands to a Gun Fight. As long as they get my record correct, that before this L I was 57-0.

Crack.

The gunshot brought Eddie out of his thoughts with a jump. Not because of the gunshot—he had gotten used to those—but where the gunshot came from. Maria had pulled the trigger that fired that crack. Eddie lunged forward into a somersault as two cracks landed behind him. The shot Maria had let off had distracted the gunmen enough to give Eddie a second of an advantage. That was all he needed. He whipped a sharp kick to the knee of the gunman closest to him, ripping the gun out of his hand and, in one movement, hitting the other gunman in the temple with the pistol.

I will almost certainly never do something that cool again in all my life. I really hope someone was videoing that. Or at least got a picture. Or has just, like, a really good memory and decent artistic ability to sketch out something later for the papers.

The second gunman fell, and the first one followed suit after Eddie connected two more hits with the butt of the gun.

Crack.

That one hurt a bit, Eddie thought, falling to his knees. It felt like his shoulder had caught on fire. The bullet had just grazed him, but that didn’t stop the pain.

Eddie’s overly dramatic reaction to his first gunshot wound saved his life as another crack flew over his head, followed quickly by two thuds. Eddie looked up to see the lead gunman lying at Maria’s feet, then the man in the door lying at the feet of a burly man in a leather vest.

“Frank!” Eddie exclaimed from his knees.

“Hows youse doin’, kid?” Frank answered with a chuckle.

“Well—” Eddie looked at his blood-covered hand that had been pressing his shoulder, “—I’ve been better.”

“Yeah, I’s guess youse had.”

“But I could’ve been a lot worse if it wasn’t for you! What are you doing here?”

“I’s was just stoppin’ by for a sammies on the ways to work. Youse looked like youse could use some help. Youse were there for me. I’s figured its was the decent things to do.”

“Frank, my man, decent is an understatement. Congrats on the job! You talk to Jerry?” Eddie looked at the gun in his hand and chucked it, catching its owner in the shoulder blade.

“I’s dids. He asked how soons I could start, and I’s was workins for him that night.” Frank puffed his chest out and smiled.

Blaring sirens got louder, as multiple cop cars showed up, now that everything had been handled already.

“Hey, Maria,” Eddie hollered across the store with a big smile, “this is my friend Frank!”

“Nice to meet you, Frank,” Maria said with a smile and a tilt of her head.

“I’s reckon it’s nice to meet youse, too.”

“We need to get out of here. Now,” Maria said to Eddie, looking out at the flashing lights in front of the store.

“I know, I know.” He grimaced as he grabbed the back of his shoulder.

“Thanks for your help, Frank!” Eddie yelled over his shoulder as Maria helped him through the back door.

“Always a pleasure to gets to help the Street Rat,” Frank shouted back.

Maria sighed and shook her head as they entered the alleyway.

Eddie had the biggest smile of his life on his face.

The Street Rat continues with The Street Rat 105!

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