One Bullet Is All That It Takes..!! – Arjun Choudary

December 1, 2012 Off By Fried Guest

Room No. 301

He flash opened his eyes, as he heard a distant silencer of an idle motorbike. Turning over on his bed, he craned his head to catch a glimpse through the little window of his dim lit room. Pitch darkness, a far away and the only illuminated street light was all that his eyes could gather. His wrist-watch reminded him that the sun would rise in just about two hours. The sound of the motorbike diminished into silence: a scary silence. Charlie could hear his shaky, heavy breath. He could feel his heart pacing up and down. He closed his eyes to calm himself but in vain, as he heard human movements outside his door in the corridor. He locked his lips tight in trying to mute his breath. He browsed through his pockets for his revolver, with leaking hopes. The revolver was lost the day before, he knew it. Three… two…one…. “Knock knock” his door was knocked. Charlie said to himself, pressing his eyes- “They are here…Help me God…. They are here..”

Room No. 302 >

‘Deal Agreement, Mr. Vinod, VV & Co.’ Mr. Vinod couldn’t believe his eyes scanning through those words in the ‘Agreement papers’. He couldn’t help smiling. As if talking to the dark sky outside his window, he said- “ The sun has already risen in my life. You still have two hours of darkness.” He realised that the sun would be setting back home in India at that point of time, grabbed his cell phone, hit the numbers on them as his lovely wife greeted him on the other side- “Congrats dear. Got the news. I’m preparing sweets.”

“Love you dear. What’s a sweet if it’s not you Ani?” his smile almost touched his ears.

“ Oh come on ya. Waiting for you. Another 8 hours and you will be here. Just can’t wait baby.”

“Yeah. And hey, what’s my kitty doing?”

“She’s watching cartoon on tv. Hey can’t you reach here faster than 8 long hours?”

“Awee.. Love you baby. I’ll run even in the flight and reach soon. Don’t worry.” He joked as they cut the call.

Vinod, stood by the window, the soft carpet beneath him, the sky clearing, as a weak moon showed itself between the rolling red clouds. The silence was broken with a sudden thud on his door. It took him a long ten seconds to realise the sound and then hurried to the door, peeped through the view-finder but found no one. As though his brain was resting, he motioned his hands, reached the latch to open the door not realising that he was about to commit the biggest mistake of his life.
Room No. 301

Charlie, who didn’t respond to the door knocks, freezed to discover that the locks were being jimmied using foreign substances. He literally felt his blood rush inside him as he found his head go blank. It took two minutes for the door to be flung opened, thereby exposing two white men wearing black caps, holding a revolver each. They were revolvers fitted with silencers, making them appear longer than normal. Charlie, as a last resort, leapt out of his bed and tried to speed out into the corridor and it took no time for those huge men to grab him and let out a shot. The bullet pierced through his palms as it began colouring the carpet red. Charlie, acting entirely on his reflexes, stood and dragged himself as he covered some distance in trying to break away. Within no time he received another shot, on his shoulder this time, ripping off the upper part of his shirt along with a lump of skin. The uncontrolled running doubled with the gun shot led him crashing straight into another door : Door No. 302.

Vinod drew the latch and the door gave way, exposing him straight to the back of a wounded man (Charlie). Standing face-to-face to Charlie were two hugely built white men, with revolvers and sprinkled blood stains on their faces. One of them, with a forceful voice whispered, as he pointed his revolver into Charlie’s chest- “ You think you can get away?? Go to hell” and bhoom. The relatively silent bullet hit Charlie straight on his chest thrusting his body right into Vinod’s arms. Vinod, who, in a state of shock withdrew his hand allowing the body to drop vertically down over the soft carpet.


Mr. Vinod, the Founder of VV & Co., there he was facing straight into two gunmen, fresh murderers. His worst fears came alive as the hand with the revolver raised once again, this time Vinod’s chest the target. “No Evidence, no bullshit please. Sorry” said a voice, as the bullet sped and ripped apart a pure chest. The thud lifted his legs above the ground, dropped identically beside the dead Charlie. The air gushed out of him, the heart stopped as he breathed his last.

Certainly the sun was setting back home in India as the sun rose over Vinod’s dead body.


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