Fireproof Read Free

wide-eyed and silent. The Royal Victoria Hospital was only half a mile away and an ambulance arrived at the scene in no time. Mike shook his head. It wasn't going to do Paul Murphy an awful lot of good.
    The last time he had seen old square-headed Paul was at the scene of his own death. There were only three more members of the Michael Rocks hit squad left now.
    The joy he'd expected didn't come. He didn't feel powerful or satisfied. The barmaid's shocked face and bloodstained vest top seemed to be the only thing he could focus on. What had he been thinking? He could have saved her the trauma of witnessing her man's murder if he'd waited for Murphy to go for a piss and cut his throat at the urinal. Maybe he would have felt a little less robbed if he'd taken that kind of time to do the deed.
    Next time. I'll be more patient and savour it, next time.
    He turned to go to the bathroom and jerked backwards in shock. A three-headed dog loomed in the centre of the living room. It looked a bit like a Doberman with its black and tan coat and muscular frame. But it stood four times the size of an average Doberman and, of course, it had two extra heads. Mike thought that he should try and befriend it but he wasn't sure which head he should pat. Before he could decide, the dog spoke.
    "What were you thinking?" asked the middle head.
    "Well, obviously thought didn't come into it," answered the left head.
    "What do you have to say for yourself?" asked the right.
    Mike found this more than a little surreal, and he didn't answer right away. Instead he looked at the three angry faces and sighed.
    "Cat got your tongue?" asked the middle head and the other two sniggered.
    Mike did the only thing he could think of. He stepped forward and raised a hand in a placatory gesture. Dogs liked a good ear tousle. Mike had a moment to realise that this wasn't the ideal position to be in before the dog's middle head bit down and snatched his hand off at the wrist.
    At first, Mike thought he was unable to feel pain in his new mortal state, but then the initial shock gave way to excruciating agony. The first real pain he'd felt since his death. As he fell to the floor and shrieked he was not comforted by the roaring laughter from the three-headed dog. He managed to gain some control over himself after he threw up. To help alleviate the embarrassment of his reaction, he got to his knees and loudly cast dispersions on the beast's lineage. The head on the right shot forward and clamped onto Mike's throat. It didn't puncture the delicate skin around his neck, but he could feel the strength of the hold and so he did not fight to get out of the trap. He decided on a different approach.
    "Can we talk about this, boy?" Mike asked.
    The jaws snapped shut, and Mike's brand new head rolled onto the carpet.
    ***
    Mike sat in a comfortable chair with his head in his hand. A line from Hamlet danced on his tongue. He managed to avoid the temptation in favour of assessing his surroundings. Hell again. The smell gave it away. Brimstone. It smelled like rotten eggs, but he almost liked it.
    This time Hell looked like a plush office. The proportions would have easily accommodated Goliath. Mike's chair faced a humongous ironwood desk with an oversized Dell computer on it. Someone had crossed out the "D" on the monitor's logo and painted an "H" above it with correction fluid. He felt a little dismayed by the lack of professionalism, but decided not to mention it to the big man. And there he was again. The Devil had appeared in his well-padded leather swivel chair in the same manner as he had in their first meeting.
    "Couldn't you conjure up a cloud of smoke or something?" Mike asked, "You're really doing my head in with these entries."
    Lucifer snorted. It caused an impressive eruption of black smoke from his nostrils.
    "Fine," Mike said, "it was just an idea."
    "Could you be serious?" Lucifer asked.
    Mike raised an eyebrow and looked at the defaced Dell logo.
    "Answer me,