What Would Satan Do_ - Anthony Miller [117]
Most of the militia men stepped back, content just to watch Bubba do his thing. Bubba stepped toward Liam and gave him a shove. Liam staggered again, but caught himself quickly. He turned, breathing heavily.
“We’re leaving now,” he said.
“The hell you are, pussy.” Bubba – behemoth of broad shoulders and beer-guttedness that he was – made his best mean face, and leaned over a little, his right hand hovering by his side as if he were about to draw. The other patriots stood back, watching for the ass-whuppin’ they expected Bubba to deliver.
Liam regarded Bubba almost entirely impassively – he let a tiny hint of a smirk escape his lips.
“You want a piece of me?” asked Bubba.
“Not really. No,” said Liam.
Now it was Bubba’s turn to smirk and scoff. “Didn’t think s—” He failed to finish his taunt, having been interrupted by Liam’s delivery of three quick punches to his nose, ear, and throat. These seemed to startle and confuse Bubba, at least inasmuch as he appeared incapable of deciding whether to grab his neck, his face, or the side of his head. He hunched over, trying to do all three, and putting his head within range of Liam’s knee.
Liam did not hesitate to take advantage of this. He grabbed Bubba’s head, forcing it downward as he brought his knee upward. There was a nasty snapping sound, and Bubba flopped back, crashing into the wall behind him.
Festus backed Liam up with a karate chop to the air and a victory grunt.
The other soldiers were stunned by the sight of Bubba going down, and failed entirely to notice as Liam grabbed Danny Ray’s rifle, smashing it into the man’s chest. Danny Ray made a high-pitched chirping sound as all the air was expelled from his lungs.
Liam tore the gun out of Danny Ray’s grip, spun, and swung it like a club, clocking Danny Ray in the noggin. The man collapsed in slow motion, like a dynamited building. Before he had even hit the ground, Liam had aimed the butt of the gun at Cletus’ neck. Cletus stood wide-eyed, and held his hands up in the air as he aimed a startled look down his nose at his attacker. Liam hesitated for an instant, but then decided that having one less soldier to deal with was a good thing. He jabbed the butt of the gun up, causing the Cletus’ head to smack backwards into the wall. Liam pulled the gun back, and the man slid down the wall.
“Liam,” croaked Festus. Liam turned and saw that Buford had Festus in a head lock, a hand gun pointed at the side of Festus’ head.
“Put that gun down,” said Buford. He tightened his grip on Festus’ throat.
“Ack!” said Festus.
Liam let his hand fall, so that the gun pointed at the ground. But he did not let go. Instead he sighed, and shook his head. He closed his eyes and rolled his neck and took a deep breath.
“Put do—” Buford did not finish his sentence, having decided, apparently, that his breath would be better spent on a high-pitched scream. He let go of Festus, and ran around in little circles, which may have had something to do with the fact that his head was on fire.
Liam gave Buford a good crack in the gourd with the butt of the rifle. Buford’s legs went out from underneath him, and the man collapsed. Liam tore off his shirt, and used it to smother the flames on Buford’s head.
“Holy crap!” said Festus. “That was amazing! How—?” He gestured at Buford, who smoldered on the floor.
“Come on,” said Liam. “Let’s go.” He tossed the rifle aside, and headed for the exit, trying to look casual. Festus scrambled after him.
The morass of soldiers and patriots and trucks outside the church had expanded, and now included a lot of naked guys, most of whom seemed to be flocking together close to where Liam and Festus exited the church.
“What the hell, Liam? How did you—? Whoa!” Festus stopped and pointed. “That’s disgusting!”
Liam ignored Festus, and kept walking.
“Hey! Liam! Stop!” Liam finally turned to see what Festus was going on about. “It’s Lola. In the middle of … that.”
There are times