I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love

Cyrus didn't know the stranger approaching them had been an undercover agent. But an undercover agent out here? In the middle of nowhere?! He didn't know that the cop had been tracking and tailing them through nearly three statelines. An ambush had been setup, tire spikes blew the tires, he'd come up and confront them, offer a "Helping hand". Then the strike force would riddle the car with bullets from hidden outposts. Cyrus and Ophelia had lucked out, one of the shooters weapons had gone off, alerting them.

Now, as the bullets whizzed by, hardly accurate at this time of night, with the clouds covering the pale moon, the strike force went into action. Their new plan, was to have diversionary fire to keep the two killers occupied, while a second group went to flank the cars position from the left, and overtake or kill the them.

Cyrus fired two quick shots at the man who had been approaching them before the firefight broke out. The man was hit and toppled over dead, his brains and blood spillng out.

"Stay put! Don't move!" Cyrus shouted at Ophelia, as he moved towards the trunk of the car.

"Where are you going?!" she cried out.

"We need more fire power!" he replied as he tried to open the trunk.

The task force of FBI agents saw this, and concentrated their fire on Cyrus. Bullets ricocheted and zinged around him, until one struck him in the forearm, which exited and struck him in the shoulder. He cried out and fell back, writhing in pain.

"Cyrus!" Ophelia cried out, dropping her pistol to drag her lover back to cover.

He was cursing bitterly, clutching his bleeding arm as she applied pressure to his shoulder wound.

"Shit! I can't get in the trunk!"

Ophelia left him for a moment, reaching into the back seat of the car, pressed a button, which lowered the seats for easy access to the trunk.
Cyrus cursed himself again, not realizing it would have been that easy.
Ophelia started to pull out armfuls of ammo, shotguns, rifles, and pistols.
They loaded up, preparing for a long fight.

"Ophelia, I just wanted to let you know something..." Cyrus said as he took aim with his hunting rifle.

"Hmm..?"

"I know I've fucked up alot, and I know that, if I hadn't dragged you along with me, you'd be home right now, with your family who would still be alive, and you wouldn't be here getting shot at. I'd rather die alone that have you die because of me. But this time I mean it, I'll let you know just how much you mean to me. As snow falls, on desert sky, until the end of everything...I will love you."

Ophelia smiled, she reached out and touched Cyrus's blood smeared cheek with a tender hand, "Cyrus, I'm glad you came into my life! I was nothing until you-"

A bullet silenced her. Cyrus saw her flop forward as if slapped hard on the back. She pitched forward and landed in his arms. He felt something warm and wet trickling over his hands pants. He lifted her up, she was gaunt eyed and wheezing horribly.

"Oh God baby! Oh fuck no! You assholes!! You shot my wife!" Cyrus screamed as he held her close.

"W-wife..?" she managed to sputter.

"Damn straight! I was gonna ask you to marry me once we got out of this whole shithole mess! I'm trying, oh God baby, I'm trying to let you know how much you mean to me!
As days fade, nights grow.."

Ophelia looked so tired and worn out, as her life spilled from her gunshot wound to the back, she slumped over weakly. Cyrus gently propped her up against the cab of the car door.

"And..we grow..cold...so fuckin...cold.." she muttered weakly.

"Don't talk now! Just hold on okay?! I'm gonna get us out of here!" Cyrus chided in frantic panic.

He had spent most of his life, making others hurt and suffer. He hadn't felt this way since his mothers funeral years and years ago. It had been awhile since he had someone he loved and cared about brutally taken away from him with violence.

He took aim and fired into the distance, desperately trying to kill someone, anyone. But the more he fired, the more they returned it. He wasn't sure how much more the car could take before a lucky shot set off the gas.
He pulled back to reload and to check on Ophelia. She still alive, barely conscious, but alive.

"Untl the end.." she murmured, barely audible.

"What was that?"

She continued, "Until this pool of blood..until this..."

Cyrus couldn't make any sense out of her rambling, "What are you talking about?"

"I mean this...I mean this Cyrus...until the end...I'll love you...always.."

Cyrus moved to her, to give her her last moments of comfort. She was dying, no stopping that. He pulled her close to him, smoothed her hair, as the bullets continued to sing and rain upon them.

"All...we are.. all we are..is bullets...I mean this...." she whispered.

"Huh? What..what do you mean?"

Ophelia only shook her head weakly, as she gazed at him, her eyes glazing over. She was cold to the touch now, her warmth leaving her.

"All we are...all...we are..." she kept whispering over and over as she slipped away.

"Like a bed or roses, thare are a dozen reasons in this gun for us, for them.." Cyrus said softly as he let her rest gently against the car.

He didn't care now, if he died, he couldn't be without her. He lost his mother, and they wanted to take his love away from him?! He stood and opened fire, firing madly into the darkness. The moon suddenly reappeared in the sky, the clouds having parted. Although the task force had night vision goggles, Cyrus was now able to make out their forms. He fired into them, watching them scatter about the hillside, seeking cover as he returned their invitations of hell and lead. He began to smile and laugh as they scurried, some falling and laying still, shot dead. He was winning! He was actually winning!

A shot from behind shut down his victory thoughts. A second shot, then a third, and a fourth. Each impact lurched him forward, a new pain to accompany a new bullet hole. He felt his lung empty inside of him, collapsing. The trapped air caused him to cough, wheeze, and vomit blood. Three of his ribs had been fragmented by one of the bullets, sending sharp shards of rib into his surrounding intestinal tracts. The third and fourth bullets had grazed his spine and liver, severing and perforating them. His body almost shut down instantly, he crumpled to his knees, not even able to lift his arms to clutch is burning body of anti-climatic destruction. He heard footsteps behind him, but was unable to turn to face his attacker.

"Been long time hunting you boy. You get what you give..." said a cold southern Virginian voice.

The man remained behind Cyrus as he struck a match to light up a cigar, "Mm...victory sure tastes good don it?"

The man walked around Cyrus, so they could look face to face. He smiled and tipped his hat in a mock courtesy. He blew smoke into Cyrus's face, smiling still.

"You see son, you done and fucked up real nice this time see? One of them waitresses you went and shot up at that Cracker Barrel a lil while back? Yeah, that girl was my daughter. As luck would have it, I was allowed to lead this lil task force you see before you, since I'm the County Sheriff and all, I was given special priveleges to tag along and see justice made fit."

The man began to circle Cyrus, watching him slowly die. The other task force members came out of the hills, but remained a good distance from the scene.

The Sheriff continued, "Now, my lil girl is only eighteen years old. She's still got a lot of life head of her see? And now, that she's paralyzed from the neck down, she has a whole lot of life left in her that she don't even wanna live no more! Do you know how it feels, to be father, and have to listen to your daughter talk about killing herself because she's a parapalegic?! Can you fathom that boy?! No, I guess you couldn't. Hell, you even kill your own blood, and I can't abide to the likes of that...no Sir.."

And with that, the Sheriff put the muzzle of his gun to the back of Cyrus's head. Cyrus could feel the still warm steel of the gun, the shaking of the Sherifs hand, as he contemplated finishing him off. He heard the hammer cock, the bullet chambered, but still nothing.

Finally, the Sheriff pulled the gun away from Cyrus's head and lowered it.

"Naw, not like that. Don't take cotton to me really.." the Sheriff said calmly, before he fired a shot into each of Cyrus's knee caps, dropping him instantly.

Cyrus writed and wheezed, unable to move, to think, to breathe.

The Sheriff took one last puff of his cigar, before forcing it into Cyrus's blood stained mouth,
"Here son, you should be thanking me for his...burn in hell."

The Sheriff walked away a few paces, then turned and fired a the gas cap, causing a horrendous explosion of fire, fuel, ammo, and car parts.
The blast threw Cyrus and Ophelia ten feet from the wreckage, badly burnt.

Cyrus was dying, alive, but dying. He looked over at ophelia, now a smoldering shell of what was once the woman he loved. His body was burning, he could smell his flesh cooking before him.

"And as.... we're falling down, and in.... this pool... of blood.... we're touching hands. I'll meet your eyes... I mean this...forever..." he said as his lips burnt away, and his gums shrunk.

He reached his burning hand out to hers, almost touching it...then died...only three inches from his love...

The fires faded, the darkness drowned them, and heaven was an afterthought.
To hell, to the destination that befits them the best.
1000 corpses piled up....his only key to her salvation....

When Cyrus opened his eyes, a tall gaunt looking man in a black and red three piece suit was standing over him.

"Greetings fallen one! Welcome to hell! I'm sure you'll find your stay here rather unpleasent, but no matter, I'll do my best to be of service to you!"

Cyrus tried to get to his feet, but couldn't.

"Give it a few more seconds, you're...almost.....THERE!" the strange man shouted, raising his arms in the air as if he had scored a football goal.

Cyrus heard a horrible howl of anguish, then silence.

"Okay, now you're fully dead! You can stand now!"

Cyrus slowly stood up, his legs still feeling a little numb and sore.

"So you're here to serve me?"

The man turned and promptly backhanded Cyrus across the face, "Don't be a simpleton! Why would I, Virgil, be your servant?! Did dying a bloody fiery death make you daft boy?!"

Cyrus reeled back from the blow, "Christ! That hurt! I didn't know! Mr..."

Virgil backhanded him again, harder, "I advise you watch your tongue here in hell lost soul! In hell, we have no names, but I do by the name of Virgil."

His voice suddenly deepening as long black horns burst forth from the confines of his forehead, "AND YOU WILL NOT UTTER THE HOLY ONE BY NAME OR TITLE HERE....UNDERSTOOD?!"

By the dangerous glow of Virgil's eyes, Cyrus nodded.

With that, the horns, voice, and glowing eyes disappeared as soon as they had sprouted, "Splendid my good man! Shall we commence then?!"

"Commence?" Cyrus asked, instinctively cowering in preperation for another hellish smiting.

Virgil didn't move to strike him, "Yes, your judgement of course! We all are judged for everything we did as walking souls! Now, kindly shut up and follow me, we have much to do now.."

Cyrus slowly and reluctantly followed Virgil, unsure of what awaited him.

"What about Ophelia?!"

Virgil spun on his heel, "Do you want another smarting?!"

Cyrus gave him a baffled look, "A what?!"

Virgil promptly kicked him hard in the shin with a steel toed boot that magically appeared on one of his feet, "There, anymore questions? Did that make you 'Smarter' now?"

Cyrus clutched his shin in pain, why did it hurt so badly?

Virgil turned and continued walking down the glowing green path, "Hurry now, Ophelia awaits you!"

Cyrus felt a rush of hope, of resolution. He would do anything for her, anything to be with her again. ANYTHING.