Prithvi... [Vol 3]

Chapter 66

The bullet blew apart the head, splattering gory contents on the nearby bodies. 

Prithvi had just leaned against the car, pale and perspiring, with eyes shut against the agony when the gunshot rang out. His eyes snapped open, and directly fell on the limp torso of the bald man lying ahead on the dusty ground.

With livid disbelief, Prithvi looked from the dead man to his step-brother whose expression showed no trace of any strong emotion. No pleasure, no antagonism. Only the mild distaste of a person who had deliberately trodden over an annoying insect, squishing the life out of it…  

Meanwhile, Indrajit was looking at the other two goons. Their mate's murder seemed to have immobilised them. They were staring at the body with bewilderment.

Then almost simultaneously, both of them looked at him with shock, and saw their own fates on his face.  Terrified, one man managed to get up to his knees with a lot of effort, but the other, the one with the knife wound, could only writhe backwards on his elbows.

They looked like worms wriggling to escape a descending stone, Indrajit thought dispassionately as he walked towards the frantic men. When he was at a point where he could easily aim at both their heads, Indrajit raised the gun.

"Don't!"

Indrajit paused with his finger on the trigger and gazed around incredulously at the strident, angry command. The ********'s shirt had turned scarlet with blood, but no weakness had shown in his voice…

"Stay out of it…let them go," Prithvi said furiously, teeth clenched against the pain.

As the two potential victims stared at him disbelievingly, Indrajit slowly lowered the gun. "This pity you feel….it has gifted you with death. But let it not be said that I didn't honour your last wish," he said derisively. He tossed the gun carelessly to one of his men and shortly said, "Clear this mess."

Three men hurried towards the dead body. In the background, the less-injured man was trying to help his friend to his feet. They succeeded after an undignified struggle, and then both gazed at Prithvi, but he was inexplicably gazing upwards, breathing hard.

They turned and tottered away with the plain ambition of simply putting ample distance between Indrajit and themselves.

"Move."

Prithvi moved down his gaze and encountered Indrajit's bland features. He nodded tiredly, and with a tremendous effort, pulled away from the car. 

Indrajit stared with revulsion at the blood on the hood of the car.  "Clean this dirt," he snapped to Jiva, who hastened to grab a piece of cloth from the other car.

Indrajit detachedly watched his step-brother walk with gritty steadiness to a dilapidated shanty and brace a hand on the crumbling wall. Prithvi was going to be dead in a short while. It was very unfortunate that the bullet had not been fired from his gun but from that of a common thug's. He would avenge the insult.  Vikrant would pay with his life.