JUNIPER’S DAUGHTER – FRONTIER TOWN A novel by Nick Armbrister

JUNIPER’S DAUGHTER – FRONTIER TOWN
A novel by Nick Armbrister
Other strange and eccentric people graced the dereliction of Renford; a select few lived underground in the sewers keeping out of the way of the gangsters who used them for target practise and the general population who loathed them. They were the Scuttle Rats named after the way they scuttled away like a rat in a torch beam, for years these scum had been part of the town like the Goths or gangsters doing their own thing and just wanting to be left alone. For them getting on with life was eating nice fat sewer rats, drinking clean water from one of three fresh water mains they tapped into and finding old but useable clothes to wear from the local tip.
On one bad evening three gangsters waited near a manhole cover by one of the secondary streets in Renford. When the metal grid slowly opened and a pair of beady eyes in a dirty face became visible two pistols were aimed and ready, very carefully the figure quietly emerged into the dark. Placing the grid back into position the dark entity was about to drift into the darkness but two muzzle flares from two large Magnum .44 hand guns lit up the street terrifying the figure who turned to run, falling like a bag of shit as two fat round bullets crippled its legs. Murmured cries told of suffering and pain but it was no use, two more shots crackled over the night into the prone figures backside making it shake and convulse like a deranged zombie. Walking closer to the cripple both gunmen covered their leader who kicked the injured thing that resembled a person at its lowest levels. Blood pooled and ran slowly over the uneven pothole pitted road surface, life ending in death only minutes away.
Many more bullets waited in the huge guns to be fired into the wounded form below the vicious men, a form of entertainment was giving them a degree of fun until it was over and the next fix of violence came before them. Bang! Bang! Two more bullets crashed into the damaged legs breaking bone, cutting sinews, slicing flesh, unleashing blood to flow and crippling an outcast caught by misfortune and extreme violence.
Laughter filled the road like a street party was taking place, in one sense it was but it was a party with a difference. One gunman softly spoke to his friends, “Hey I wonder how far my bullet will go up into his leg, if I fire up into his foot below his ankle. I think my gun has enough force to send a bullet all of the way up. What do you think?”
“You should try it. It has to be done right though, try moving his leg to an angle and we’ll see if the shot leaves the top of his knee. If it does then it’s half way up his leg. Yea I’ll help you move his leg, here do it this way,” one of the thugs replied, stooping down to move the wounded man’s leg for the experiment while his friend helped out. Walking over into position the man got into position and carefully aimed his gun; his two mates watched equally closely, standing well out of the way to avoid the bullet and bone splinters. Counting down from five, the thug nodded his head with each number until Boom! He let go one bullet into the left foot of the man who screamed and wriggled as the bullet left the gun and entered his leg at eight hundred metres a second. Damage was instantaneous; the huge .44 inch bullet gouged a path up the dying man’s leg right up through the bone, leaving his body by his knee cap which it blew off in a welter of blood and gore, spreading more detritus onto the rough ground around them. The gangster who had fired jumped with joy on the spot and let off a “Whoop!” and continued, “See I told you it would do that! Fantastic!”
“Yea man what a good do, lets finish this cunt off and use up our ammo on him as target practise!” laughed the second man with the gun, while he moved position sizing up his target wondering where to place his next target area – legs, arms, belly, chest? Don’t want to kill him! Not just yet.
“Nice and easy boys I see you’re using your training to good effect,” their leader whispered. He was unarmed but fully in charge for he had what was called command presence, you automatically respected and looked up to him. Cross him if you dare. Few did and they died.