Page 74 of Capuleto

"If it were you, I'd be ordering a pizza, but since it's me, I'm looking for a damn gas station," he growled.

"You don't need to do that, there's one right in..." I didn't get to finish the sentence because a loud explosion silenced everything.

Andrey and I looked at each other, then focused on the point where the sky was stained with orange and smoke.

Whatever had happened, I swore it came from the very place we had just left.

"What the hell?" I murmured.

Andrey started running down the street. Without discussing with me what we should do.

"Where are you going?!" I yelled.

"Get gas and go find R, I'm going to see what happened," he shouted without stopping.

"Like hell!"

I wasn't going to leave him alone. I had no idea what we might find. I also started running after him. For as muscular as he was, he ran as fast as a greyhound; aren't muscle guys supposed to be less agile? Well, not Andrey, and I wasn't fully recovered from my rib injuries.

When we arrived, I looked on in horror at the disaster. My heart was racing, and sweat was accumulating on my forehead. Some of my men had become lifeless bodies. Arms and legs lay on the ground in impossible postures next to expressionless faces.

Chunks of mutilated flesh piled up on the asphalt while their owners mourned their loss under pools of blood.

Every other motorcycle was blown to pieces, and those that remained weren't in much better shape. Judging by the looks of it, this reeked of explosives. They had been detonated knowing they would cause the maximum possible damage.

Romeo and Nikita were standing in the middle of that hellish scene, removing their helmets with horror swinging in their pupils.

The impudent orange flames rose, lighting up a scene no one would want to remember.

At least they were okay, and I could stop worrying about their safety.

I looked around, disoriented, rubbing my hands thinking about who to help.

The men who were still alive were supporting each other.

The Russian had gone to meet his boss. I heard a moan to my right that drew my attention to one of the guys who was screaming in horror. His forearm was hanging from the elbow, only held by a couple of tendons.

My stomach churned, and that was saying something given I was used to seeing worse. I took off my jacket and shirt to make an improvised bandage.

"Hey, hey, calm down, everything will be fine. We're going to take you to the hospital," I tried to reassure him.

Sirens sounded in the distance. Chaos had broken loose, and death was coming back for ours. It didn't care that we were at a funeral; it was thirsty for more.

The guy I was helping couldn't have been more than twenty-four years old, one of the youngest in the group, and he was shaking like a leaf.

"My arm, my arm!" he kept repeating.

"They're going to fix you up, you hear me? They do some damn good surgeries nowadays, they'll put it right back in place, just stay calm." I wasn't sure if it was true, I just wanted to soothe him. "Stay here and don't move, the medics will be here soon and they'll take care of you."

I picked up the jacket and put it over my bare torso. Romeo was crouched down, talking to one of the men who only had multiple cuts.

"What happened? Did you see anything?" I asked the dazed boy.

"We were messing with the drinks when the bikes started exploding all at once," he replied, stumbling over his words.

"Did you see anyone?" R insisted. He shook his head.

"Did you see anything?" I turned to my boss.