The Illicit American

“Yes . . . let’s get the fuck outta here!” Cass hollered to Mario and Will when he saw Cigarro rise and heard the charred body cry mournfully while his smoking hands slapped his head in a crazed effort to snuff his burning hair. Mario and Will stood frozen, mesmerized by the horrific spectacle. “C’mon, you idiots!” said Cass, grabbing Mario’s arm and pulling him towards the door. “We stay here, and we’ll be blamed for this shit! If we help the sonovabitch ‘til the cops get here, what the hell are we gonna tell ‘em . . . that we’re here ‘cause we’re smugglers?” He tugged on the reluctant Mario. “C’mon!” Walking sideways, and with his back to the exit, Cass did not see Juan appear in the doorway. As they turned away from the fire to follow Cass, Mario and Will spotted Juan and yelled simultaneously when the fat man aimed his gun at Cass. “Look out, Cass!” their alarmed voices sliced through the smoke-filled room as they pointed at Juan. Mario lunged to push Cass out of Juan’s aim just as the gun fired with an ear-piercing bang. The bullet struck Mario in the chest. Cass stumbled from Mario’s shove, but he fired instantly with his own gun at Juan before the rotund man squeezed off a second round. Cass’ aim was good, and the impact of his .45 knocked Juan back and out of sight. “Mario is hit!” Cass shouted frantically when he saw his best friend’s knees buckling under him.