Mr. Linklater's mortuary

How old was he, nine? Ten?

I think he was nine, boss

Nine, for Christ’s sake. Billy! Billy! You lazy son of a gun, move those corpses. I want them on the wagon before sunrise.

Bastards…

It’s a terrible thing to see a kid inside a coffin. All those dreams and ambitions torn apart by an unusual unatural premature cause.

Mr. Linklater was putting nails on those ole coffins as usual. A weird tradition if you ask me… to throw away bones of those who are alredy resting to reuse their coffins.

The sun fell at ease far across the land of dust and heat, there, where the horizon meets the earth in an spectacular show of magnificence and lust two riders came like a pair of blazing ghosts.

Jackie, Mr. Linklater’s grandson was playing with his toy soldiers at the mortuary’s porch. He saw the two figures approaching and thought of all those cowboys stories he loved so much. Maybe they were bandits of some sort or a couple of bounty hunters in the search for blood.

Linklater heard the roaring anger from a distance. He knew what was coming.

“One final nail on this coffin. I hope it wont turn to be mine”- He thought.

Jackie! Jackie! Get off the porch, move damn it!

Jackie went inside as quickly as he could.

Jackie, those men are very very dangerous…

I need you to do something for me son.

Jackie nodded in fear.

Hide, they must never find you.

Go! Go!

The old man grabbed his Winchester rifle, he had Little more tan seven rounds plus two extra that were meant to be shot out of a Harvey rifle. He sat down in front of the iving room’s window and aimed out.

Linklater! You hillbilly son of a bitch. We know you are there!

Mr. Linklater didn’t answer.

You give us that baboon and his fucking runaway wife once and for all. We have orders to rip them apart!

You’ll have to kill me! – The old man said.

Oh, I see, so you are just another nigger lover ain’t you creep?!

Bang! – Mr. Linklater pulled the trigger.

The bullet went past one of them.

We are the Blackmon borhters you old bag of shit!

Louis and Ray Blackmon, a couple of ruthless slaver psychopaths who were famous for their cruelty and their deadly record as bounty hunters.

Louis aimed his Colts at the house and started shooting.

Wooden shards flew all over the place.

Come on ole bastard! Come out, come out, come out!

Ray crouched and aimed for the Windows with his brand new silver barrel Winchester.

Bang!

The bullet destroyed an elegant piece of forniture that held Linklater family portraits.

Heya! Son of a bitch, we will put you down!

Ray! Ray! Let’s go inside, that maggot must be dead by now – Louis shouted.

Just… a… second…

Clack.

Bang!

Splat!

The bullet went past the kitchen Wall and through Linklater’s shoulder.

The old man fell to the ground yelling. He was in a great deal of pain.

I think I got him!

Yeeeha bastard! We are coming for ya!

Mr. Linklater crawled to the stairs that led to his underground working station.

He didn’t feel so diferent from all the corpses he arranged for years in that dusty basement. His end was near and he knew it.

Jackie! Jackie! I know you can hear me, don’t you dare coming out of your hiding place.

Do you hear me?! I will kill you myself If I see a damn piece of ya.

Clack, Clack!

Jackie shut his eyes and tried to think of something else. He tried to think about one of those stories he loved about the Rojos and the Baxters.

Plank!

Louis entered the mortuary like a thunder.

Ray followed.

Where the fuck are you piece of shit?

We know you helped him!

Linklater had two rounds left ready to be fired. He crawled towards a pile of Wood and pressed his body against it. That gave him a clear shot of the staircase end.

Clack, clack! – He Loaded his gun.

There’s no one in the kitchen.

There’s no one in the living room.

So… up… or down? – Ray asked poiting at the stairs that led to the basement.

The both started to descend.

This place smells like horse shit, damn!

Bang!

Crack!

Linklater took a shot and hit Ray’s knee cap.

Mother Fucker!

His leg was destroyed.

Linklater had to reload.

I saw you, son of a bitch! – Louis yelled.

That prick there is my borther you old shit!

Louis ran towards the pile of Wood and kicked the rifle far from Mr. Linklater’s hands.

Now I got you, bastard!

Bang, bang, bang, bang!

Four bullets destroyed the old man’s skull.

Fucking, piece of…! Aghh, it fucking hurts, my fucking leg!

Ray! Stay here, that nigger must be hidding upstairs, I’ll be right back!

Louis ran upstairs, there wasn’t a soul there either.

Bang!

A shot was fired.

What the hell? – Louis said.

The basement was now as quiet as a graveyard.

Louis saw his brother lying on the floor. He was quiet now. He was covered in blood, a wound right beneath his chin. The place was a mess.

Nigger!

Mother fucker! Come the fuck out!

Where the fuck are you! I will kill you, I will fucking clip you, mother fu…

BANG!

Louis’s brains now covered the wall.

Jackie was there, standing inside one of them coffins with glassy eyes full of tears and his hands covered with murderer’s blood.

He had killed both Blackmon bastards.

Four hours later…

Boss! Boss! There are three fresh corpses downstairs.

Fresh? What the hell is wrong with ya, son?

This is a mortuary, boss, there a lots of ole corpses here.

Oh, right, right…

Mr. Linklater’s body is there, they blew his skull off…

Damn, that was one good ole pal.

Yes he was…

What else? – Sheriff Brolin asked.

Come and see it for yourself.

The sheriff went donwstairs and saw the corpses of those crazy ass murderers lying on the floor.

The Blackmons?

Yes, boss.

Who?

Billy pointed at a coffin at the end of the room

What?

Open the coffin, boss.

Brolin opened the coffin.

Dear Christ.

There he was, Jackie, shivering in fear. He was absolutely shocked.

Take the kid out of that fucking coffin.

Linda!, where’s linda?

She’s outside boss.

Take the kid to Linda, she’ll take of him.

What about the reward, boss?

Well, that kid helped in the killing of these two pieces of shit, so… we owe him two thousand dollars. Linklater was his only family as far as I can see, right?

Right – Billy replied.

Then it’s done.

It’s a terrible thing to see a kid inside a coffin. All those dreams and ambitions thorn apart by an unusual unatural premature cause.

Billy, we need to send a message to the Marshall.

Tell me, boss, I have a pen here.

The Blackmon brothers are dead. They were looking for Calvin Cadie murderers, that free nigger and his wife.

Write this down, Billy.

Am writing, boss.

Anyone who helps, shelters or leads Django Freeman and Broomhilda Von Shaft in the state of Mississippi will be seen and treated like a criminal and might be sent to a court of justice for that same matter.

Send that to the fucking Marshall.

We will get that son of a bitch and his nigger french bitch wife.

It’s german boss.

Whatever the fuck! We will get them!

A humble tribute to Quentin Tarantino’s Django Uncahined.