Character: Mr. Smith / Kurdy
revised work: August 2016
"God damned!" Kurdy cursed loudly.
While he had pulled the trigger, Smith had decided to step in and defend the brutal skinhead. Now he was lying on the ground unhurt, but there was blood seeping out of the tattered fabric of Smith's old coat. Carefully he tried to move his arm and pulled the face; obviously in pain. Frowning Kurdy went over.
"Let me have a look at it!"
But the little man shook his head.
"I'm fine. It's only a graze shot."
"This was totally stupid, you know that," Kurdy snapped at him. Smith obviously wasn't seriously hurt and his anger erupted.
"This bastard wanted to kill us! And you risk your life to save this ass?"
Smith glanced at the guy who was still laying on the ground. Yes, his eyes were still full of hate and bloodlust. Without the gun in Kurdy's hand, he would have attacked them again, without hesitation, without mercy. Slowly he shook his head and turned back to his partner.
"Trust me, Kurdy, I haven't saved him," he murmured. "Let him go!"
His voice had this strange undertone again; Kurdy hated it when he talked like that. Even more, because he knew that his words turned out to be the truth much too often. Grumpy he turned to the skinhead and pointed over to the wood nearby.
"Back off. And better don't come back here again, next time we meet he might not be around to hold me back."
With cold eyes the guy stared at him, for a moment Kurdy was sure that he would try another attack; but finally, he turned around and disappeared among the big trees.
"C'mon, let's get back to the Mountain," Kurdy said.
"I'm sure, Markus wants to get a report about the Skinhead."
He knew the young leader wouldn't be happy about this incident.
"He is not a danger, Kurdy," Smith murmured while getting into the old jeep.
"Even if you didn't kill him, before the end of this day, he will wish, you would have."
Kurdy shuddered and started the motor.