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Writer's pictureMark Sanders

Chapter One: Snake

Blogtober 2020 Day One Entry

“You open that fucking door now, or I’ll blow your goddamn head off!” the Swede shouted.

Phin glanced at Murphy, who held the shotgun pointed at the floor. He kept his back to the door of the Wells Fargo office and prayed no one tried to enter.

Gunnarson pulled the hammer back on his .45 revolver with three loud clicks. The old man ignored the gun pointed at his head and turned the dial on the combination lock. It also made three clicks, the sounds like a faint echo of the revolver.

He turned the handle and pulled the heavy iron door ajar. The old man stepped back and made a sweeping motion with his hands as if to say, “Be my guest.”

Gunnarson opened the door and reached inside. He gasped and then cried out in surprise, followed by a howl of pain. The Swede yanked his arm out and waved it around furiously. A six-foot long timber rattler had his fangs sunk deeply into Gunnarson’s forearm.

“Get it off! Get it off me!” he wailed. Phin and Murphy stood silent, neither one moving.

Gunnarson held his arm in front of him and tried to shoot the snake. It coiled its body, and the shot caught the old man in the middle of his chest. He fell backwards out of sight behind the counter.

“Come shoot this thing, you dumb shit!” Gunnarson yelled at Murphy.

Murphy took aim and fired, and the snake blew in half.

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