From the Dead

FORTY

'We're gonna chase these fellas clear down to Texas…'

It was late and Langford was in his cinema room, sprawled out in one of the leather recliners, the volume almost as high as it would go. He'd installed top-of-the-range speakers and he liked it good and loud, liked to feel each punch and gunshot go through him. He reckoned Unforgiven was the last great Western ever made. He had lost count of how many times he'd watched it and now it was just getting to the big shoot-out at the end which was hands down his favourite part. Where it's pissing with rain and Clint walks into the bar to sort everyone out for killing Morgan Freeman.

He reached down to the cool-box and took out a bottle of Mahou. He was still sweating, still rushing from what had been an eventful day.

He'd had a couple more beers up in Ronda after his chat with Thorne, had enjoyed the afternoon and driven home a little pissed. It wasn't something he worried about a great deal. He'd been stopped twice in the past and both times the mention of a high-ranking local cop had seen him waved on his way.

A nice quiet life, that was what he'd said to Thorne, and Thorne had been right when he'd come back at him. Sometimes you had to do whatever was necessary to keep it that way.

Some things went beyond business, hurt you in all sorts of places.

In the bar, Clint cocks the rifle and everybody turns to look at him. He tells them he's there to kill Little Bill, that he's killed just about everything that walks or crawls at one time or another. That gets their attention all right.

What had Thorne expected him to say when he'd reeled off those names? Monahan, the bent screw and the girl Thorne obviously had a thing for. 'Fair enough, mate, we'll finish our drinks and then you can pop me on a plane back home to face the music'?

Probably just looking for a reaction, for a weak spot or whatever.

Well, he'd be looking a bloody long time, same as everyone else.

Clint shoots the owner of the place, but Gene Hackman knows he's only got one round left, so he isn't that worried. Then the classic misfire and all hell breaks loose and after he's shot Gene, Clint just gets himself a drink, cool as fuck. Says he's always been lucky when it comes to killing folks. And Clint hadn't even wanted to get involved, that was the thing. He had his own nice, quiet life, didn't he?

He hadn't started it…

Those fucking photos, it all came down to them, and whichever spineless ponce had stuck them in the post.

He was only reacting to the situation he'd been put in, after all. He hadn't asked for any of it, done anything to warrant all the aggravation. But now the shit was flying at him from every direction and all sorts of people had to be sorted out.

Only Gene Hackman isn't really sorted out, not yet. Says he doesn't deserve to die. Clint tells him that 'deserves' has got nothing to do with it before he finishes him off, up nice and close. He walks slowly into the rain then, past his mate's body, and one by one all the hookers come out too, the whores like Candela who started it all. They all stand there and watch him ride away, even the one with the messed-up face.

Fucking priceless.

Langford waited and let the credits run, because he believed it was rude not to. Then he reached for another beer and pointed the remote so he could watch the scene one more time.