Pulp Fiction Trunk Shot Novels & Stories

“My partner will just have to–” I never find out what Nick’s partner will have to do, because as fast as I can, I pull the handgun from Mary Sue’s lifeless grip and fire off a shot. A black dot appears in the middle of Nick’s forehead as he flies backward and collapses in a lifeless heap of spasming limbs on the church floor. ***

The other vehicles are slowing down to get away from the trouble. “Careful boys, you might kill your boss on the trunk” he slid his window open and start firing at the man on his side. 40 seconds and I will lose sight of them again. I pull the trigger aiming at their front wheel. They lose their balance and fell of the bike watching Chris get off. “That was bad… you should have shoot them in head.” Chris as he is heading his way “Too much blood for tonight…” I lay my back on the chair and take a deep breathe. Yes, too much blood. I grab my phone and read Frank’s message.

It was over before they could blink. Two shots for Marco, center mass. The squibs taped to his chest detonated on impact, spraying a dark crimson mist. He dropped in a heap. Hendrix charged like a bull. I sidestepped, put one in his knee, then his skull as he buckled. The packs burst, painting the concrete with convincing gore. Chris fired wild, but the boss was poetry. A clean headshot. The round struck the squib hidden in his hairline, detonating it in a spray of red and bone fragments. His body crumpled without a twitch. Fake blood pooled quick on the concrete, the air thick with powder burn and the metallic tang of the theatrical blood.

My chest clenched. Another shot rang out, louder than the rest, cutting through the chaos like a blade. I turned just in time to see Padrino stagger, his body jerking as the bullet struck. A crimson stain bloomed across his charcoal suit, spreading fast. His sharp eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his knees buckled. “No!”

On instinct I spin, gasping as I look behind me to see Frankie standing there, his arm stretched out straight, a pistol in his hand. He looks forward and I spin again, back towards the men in the masks. They’re flat on the floor, completely still, but my eyes widen when I see the pools of red spreading out around their heads. Head shots. Head shots. Frankie, from fifty feet away in a dark room, executed two perfect headshots with about five seconds’ notice.

The hollow-point slug plows through his side, clipping a kidney and ruining some blood vessels, but he’ll live if we can get him to a hospital in time, or if Frank doesn’t shoot him between the eyes. That second outcome looks like a definite possibility as Frank hobbles forward, babbling something incoherent about God and vengeance and cocaine. The pistol rises again, about to finish off Bill once and for all, when Bill’s car bursts from the dust-cloud and plows into Frank head-on, sending everybody’s favorite crooked cop through a windshield for the second time in one day. Behind the wheel, panicked Trent keeps the gas slammed down until the car rolls into the side of the crashed Cadillac,

“I’m just here to train my aim.” BANG. The first bullet tore through Freddy’s skull. His body crumpled like a rag doll. “Jesus Christ!” one of the others screamed. BANG. The Second boy. The one in the middle. Right between the eyes. He screamed before he fell. The third pissed himself. Literally. “Please Don Giordano” BANG. The Third one tried to run. Bad choice. I clipped the back of his skull. Scarface flinched hard. His whole body jerked like a string was yanked. Blood spattered across his shirt.

His eyes shone crimson as he licked his blood strained lips. "This". He held the glass. Leaning back into Stephen’s chest sniffing his neck. It soothed him. Relaxed him. "Good one Callum . It’s a deer. You sure you want this"? Saint reconfirmed. Callum nodded a yes and the next moment they all gasped when Saint took all shots bottom up. "Yumm". They all laughed looking at him enjoying the treat. "Someone taking lessons. Wow. It’s not so you Stephen". Suddenly the door opened to Zol and they all were shocked.

Marcus had single handedly orchestrated the emotional slaughter of his best friend for a massive paycheck. Without a single flicker of warning or hesitation, Sebastian swung his arm upward. He brought the heavy, solid metal grip of the nine millimeter handgun violently across the side of Marcus’s temple. The impact was brutal, precise, and absolute. Marcus’s head snapped violently sideways. His eyes rolled back into his skull as he instantly slumped forward in the restraints, completely unconscious. The dark blood from his gunshot wound continued to drip steadily onto the concrete floor. Sebastian calmly tucked the weapon back into his hidden shoulder holster. He turned around, walking back

Nico suddenly pulls us to an abrupt halt, and I hope out of the car almost immediately. Nico does the same, leaning his head over the long pistol he has in hand. With both of us on either side of the vehicle, standing at only a few distance away from the camry that collided with a tree, we stay alert. The doors of the green car swing open and as expected, four thugs flew out, scarred looking faces guns in hand as well. I turn to Nico, he nods subtly, taking the hint. We start shooting immediately, the bullets slamming into the trunk of their car.