The Book of Death (Bourbon Kid 4) by Anonymous Page A

wall
behind him sliding to one side. A secret compartment had opened up for him.
What a stroke of luck! A clear sign if one was needed that Sanchez’s infrequent
visits to church had paid off.
    The room behind the door was
actually quite a substantial size. And it had a long wooden table in it. No
bloody chairs though. Sanchez was about to congratulate himself on finding the
secret room when he realised he couldn’t see a switch anywhere to close the
wall back up again. No use being in a secret room if everyone can see in. He
looked around frantically for some kind of switch inside the room. There didn’t
seem to be anything remotely resembling a switch. Maybe moving the table would
trigger something off?
    He leaned his back against the
table to see if he could shift it. It moved back easily enough. But as it did
the elevator at the other end of the locker room made a pinging noise and its
doors parted slowly. Ulrika Price stormed out. She clocked Sanchez right away.
    ‘Where’s my book, you thieving
bastard?’ she screamed.
    Sanchez pushed back hard against
the table and succeeded in forcing it back against the wall. It achieved
nothing. The secret doorway remained open. He watched in terror as Ulrika
launched herself towards him at great speed. Her feet left the ground and she
flew through the air, her arms outstretched. Sanchez had seen some unpleasant
stuff in his time, but the sight of a crazy librarian bitch flying at him, was
right up there with the worst of them. He grabbed a firm hold of his mop and
lifted his ass up on to the table behind him. Then climbing to his feet, he
stood firm on the table and held the mop out to fend off the onrushing vampire.
    Ulrika landed back on her feet
at the entrance to the secret room and sneered at him. ‘That mop won’t save
you!’ she hissed.
    ‘It’s got shit on the end of
it!’ Sanchez warned. ‘And I’ll shove it in your face! I’m warning you. Stay
back!’
    It didn’t deter Ulrika who once
again leapt from the floor and flew up towards Sanchez’s head. Bracing himself
for the impact of her attack, he thrust the mop at her from his position up
high on the table. Being pretty useful with a mop, he successfully caught her
full in the face with the shittiest part of the mop head. It knocked her off balance,
forcing her back. She landed upright on her feet and Sanchez retracted the mop,
ready to go back in with another lunge if needed.
    Ulrika’s face was covered in
blood, shit, soap and oddly enough a small piece of sweetcorn. She wiped most
of it away with one swipe of her long bony right hand.
    Sanchez warned her again. ‘This
mop has a lifetime supply of filth. Come one step closer and it goes on your
shoes, bitch.’
    Ulrika lowered her head and bent
her knees to make herself a smaller target so she could avoid the prods of his
mop as she looked for the best way to attack him. It didn’t take her long to
work it out. She lunged down at the table beneath him and grabbed a hold of one
of the legs on the near side. She yanked it hard. As she pulled at it, Sanchez
swung the mop head at her once more, catching her on the side of the head. But
Ulrika was strong. The strength of her pull on the table moved it swiftly and
violently towards her causing Sanchez to lose his footing. He tumbled forward
off the table. In order to avoid smashing his face on the floor he had to
manoeuvre the mop head so that his face landed on it to cushion the blow. He
heard a horrible squishing noise as the remains of what was left on the mop
splashed over his face. There was no time to lie around whining about it
though. Keeping a tight grip on its handle he clambered to his feet and saw
Ulrika on his right, lunging towards him. He prodded the mop at her feet, just
as he’d threatened to. If he was going down he was taking that bitch’s shoes
with him. The mop connected with her comfy red lesbian shoes and unbalanced her
just enough to buy him the time to turn and run. He knew that