The Shot

He was still alive when I got to him. He wouldn't be for long though. I could see the white gleam of his spine through the gaping hole the bullet had torn through his belly. I'd under compensated for the distance and hit him too low. The bullet had ripped into his back, gouging through the spine, expanding, and leaving a hole the size of a basketball in his stomach.
His face was white. His eyes were still the intense blue I remembered from the one time I had met him. His brow was furrowed against the pain. His hands opened and closed spasmodically, as if trying to find life's purchase as it slipped from him. He fixed his wasted gaze on me as I approached. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a bubble of frothy blood came forth.

I squatted down in front of him and rested my rifle across my knees. I cocked my head and looked into his face. I wanted him to know it was me. I wanted him to see me before he died. I wanted the bastard to know he'd not gotten away with it. I wanted to see the recognition come over him as he realized who it was who had killed him.

He started to twitch a bit, but his eyes stared steadily into mine. Oh, he knew alright. I could see his lids open a bit further as it came to him. His lips worked, trying to form words again. Instead, another trickle of blood came, flowing over his lower lip like a baby when it pukes.

I'm sure I smiled.

"Yeah, it's me you son of a bitch," I said. His right hand flopped around on the ground. He managed to pull it into his lap, such as it was. His legs were splayed sideways. He looked uncomfortable. I laughed out loud as I thought this.
"You're suit's a mess," I told him, and laughed again. "Guess you should have spent money on a bullet proof vest and not on some Italian suit." I chuckled again at my own wit. He didn't laugh, only lay propped against the wall wheezing.
His hand fluttered again. I looked down at it, and gave a start. The old bastard had his middle finger extended. The ass was flipping me off!
My face tightened. I got to my feet, flicked the rifle's safety off. I put the muzzle between his eyes. He looked past the muzzle and into my eyes, never flinching. I smiled and pulled the trigger.