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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2304646-The-Mobsters-End
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Adult · #2304646
Just a story about the death of a mobster.
Joe and his brother had everything falling apart. They held low profiles since the contract was put out. At one time they ran half of the state. After refusing an offer from a more powerful gang many of their men were killed. Some while collecting, some while traveling, and some at home. The contract was on the brothers and all family friends, and associates.
Unlike the movies, mobsters used plain cars to blend in. The mob lifestyle was one where you didn't want to stand out. It was the downfall of Capone, Ghotti, and others. The quest for fame and fortune put a target on their back in more ways than one.
Joe drove his old Plymouth down the farm road as he planned to see if some of the remaining men would try to keep the farm and oil Derek's up and running. So far all who tried were killed.
As Joe drove he saw a man step out of the brush along the farm road. He pointed his pistol at Joe and started firing. The first bullet glanced off the windshield. Joe hit the brakes but they needed repair and the car merely slowed down as the second bullet made a small bb gun-type hole. The third bullet came through under the center inside rearview mirror. The fourth went through next to that.
The gunman knew he should have let the car get closer but the mark was known for getting away. His brother was even better so he hit him with a Thompson machine gun on his farm road.
The gunman fired a fifth shot which broke the steering wheel before hitting Joe. He slumped forward and to his right as the sixth shot passed by and made a crease in the window pillar between the front and back doors.
The car had come to a stop when the sixth bullet hit but as Joe expired his feet came off of the clutch and brake pedals, and the car lurched forward and to the right from Joe's body weight on the steering wheel. It stopped against a tree, putting a small crease in the back right door and fender.
The man checked to make sure Joe died and left.
Nobody would find him for a while. Most came by the cover of night in different cars each trip. The mob had too many men hunting.
The ones to find him would use a tractor to tow the car to the barn, take Joe to one of their funeral homes, cut all areas of blood out of the car and burn them, and let the car sit until everyone connected with the gangs were dead.
The end.
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