Bill breathed deeply through his cigar. The cherry glowed, and then he spun, jabbed the lit end into another bad guy’s eye, and then turned back to Billy.
“So. What’s your name, kid?”
Billy answered. “Uh, Billy. Sir.”
Bill grimaced. Billy saw Bill’s white teeth, which were white and healthy even with all his cigars.
Bill said, “That’s not gonna work. Bill and Billy? That’s too confusing. For this mission, we’ll call you…how about John or something?”
Billy said, “Maybe you should call me Snake.”
Bill sighed. He pulled another cigar out of the cargo pocket on his pants and lit it up. “No,” he said. “No, I’m not doing that. My name is Bill. That’s Lance. We’re not going to be Bill, Lance, and Snake, and then Snake is the least cool guy.”
Billy nodded. This logic worked for him. He’d tried to get people to stop calling him Billy and start calling him Will before. Back at school, people didn’t even buy him as Will. So Snake was probably reaching a bit.
“Okay,” Billy said. I guess you can just call me-” and before the youth could finish, an explosion behind the group sent them all running through the nearby trees.
Lance led the way, and he shouted over his shoulder while shooting his machine gun in all directions. “If we can make the bridge, we’ll be okay!”
Up ahead there was a very cool-looking bridge. Like a science bridge or something. Lance, Bill, and Billy all made a break for it, running and shooting, or in Billy’s case, shooting poo from his butt. He’d run out of pee, and this was even scarier than before.
“Run! Go! Go! Go!” Lance yelled.
They made it to the bridge. Lance crossed first. Then Bill. Billy was right on his tail, when suddenly part of the bridge exploded underneath his feet.