Hotel Rose (Apocalypse short)

"You are under my spell," she said to him, pressing his nose like a button. "I should be the only person on your mind right now... Now and forever more."
She was above him on the mattress, on her knees, holding a half bottle of moonshine in her unblemished knuckles. Smooth like porcelain, soft as the day she was born, easy to tell her hands had not done a days labor in their life.
She lifted the bottle above the frizzy disarray she called hair: curly, blonde, always falling into her face when she laughed. She pounded her teeth more than once; confusing her hands for the bottle whenever she opened her mouth for another.
"Havent you had enough?" Arms heavy; veins filled with dry cement as he lifted his arm for a turn at the bottle- his bottle.
"Get your own" She smacked the bottle against his knuckles in reply, laughing hysterically, hoping she'd warm his ice cold demeanor by the end of their time together. "Listen..." She'd loosen a button every time he'd ask her 'if she had enough.' It was something she'd promised herself long before her first swig. "Hey...you fallin asleep?"
"No." He answered with his eyes shut.
She fell forward, landing her body on top of his. She leaned in for a kiss, catching the strawberry mark tattooed to his cheekbone from a fistfight -she'd gotten him into-earlier in the day. He moved yet again, repelling her lips elsewhere.
She groaned in frustration. Sultans, Kings, Generals would wrestle the Gods for a chance at her charm; but this one man... this one quiet little hermit of an officer would barely even acknowledge her presence. She couldnt even tell if he was handsome. His stone cold aura doesnt allow shallow judgment of him; forced to examine things other than his clothes, or how tight his fists were with diamonds. Its like his stare reached into her mind, and crushed any opinion she'd builit of his appearance. It drove her nuts, yet she appreciated it. He made her feel normal. More like how she felt before beauty meant everything, and less like an expensive, delicate piece of rare art.
"Why wont you kiss me you bastard!"
"Just go to sleep miss. We have a long day ahead of us."
He turned to his side.
"Whats wrong with you!" Tears rolled from her eyes. Crystal blue streaks tumbled down her cheek. She grabbed his pistol from the night stand. "Arent i beautiful to you?"
"Good night miss," he dismissed her.
"Kiss me... or... or I'll shoot you, right here, right now."
He looked at her sideyed, never leaving the comfort of his position. "Put my gun back on the stand when you're done miss."
He closed his eyes again. As cold as it'd gotten in the heatless hotel room, he'd left the blanket on her side. It seemed like the right temperature for him she thought. She placed his pistol gently on the night stand. "Asshole."
She rolling off the bed so her feet would catch the floor, Since the unholy drink caused her bones disappear from her legs, she fell face first into the carpet. She crawled to the windowsill, making a gap in the blinds with her finger so she could see the moon.
"Hey... you sent for backup? Maybe they'll appreciate an inebriated, beautiful, half naked lady in the bed with them." She hiccuped.
He sat up. It was the quickest she'd ever seen him move, and it made her nervous. "Whats the matter?"
He swiped his pistol off the night stand, reaching into his pocket for a second round. "Get away from the window." He said calmly, but with traces of urgency and anger in his tone.
She listened. Drowned in anxiety, her drunkedness subside for the moment. She crawled around the bed, towards the bathroom.
He walked towards the door, staring at the parking lot through the peephole.
"What do you see?"
"Shhh...," he told her. After a few moments of dark silence, he spoke; "Nobody but you and I know you're here."
"What are you saying," she whispered. "Those arent cops?"
"No. They're cops on a cops salary," he said, seemingly rattled by whatever he was thinking.
He stepped clear of the peephole, taking position between the window and the door. There was a knock....
"Detective... we have orders to relieve you of duty. Open up."
He checked the peephole. There were three men with top gray top hats and matching suits. The one closest to the door was holding a paper. It was the two other men holding shotguns behind the guy with the paper who tickled his trigger finger. "We can make the exchange in front of a Judge," he answered back.
"Stop screwin around detective, we got places to be."
"You know i'm going to need more than that officer."
He threw himself over the mattress, just as a hole the size of a skull was blasted through the door.
She screamed, shutting the bathroom door, locking it.
He knew there were no windows, so his loss meant hers. He fired two slugs at the shadow in the window. The shadow shrank. Two more holes formed through the door.
"Give her up Detective!"
He fired once at the door. 'you know I cant do that."
"Of course you can. Just leave your gun on the floor, walk outta here, get in your car, and dont look back."
He could, free will allowed him that luxury. But then again he couldnt; using his free will, he chose honor, conviction, duty; virtues many of his kin on the both sides of the law dont share. Sometimes he wondered whether the line between good and evil was just a sick rumor started by some raving sociopath millions of years ago just to see human beings confused and in turmoil.
"I'm outgunned." He smirked to himself. "They're giving me no options the jerks."
They were erasing the door, blast by blast they were giving him a clearer view of the parking lot. "Nice car," he said of the shiny black squadder with the high beams glaring into the room.
"Thank you Detective," the man with the paper replied. "Now... are you ready to talk about this?"
He played conservative with his bullets, though that only slowed the inevitable. He was down to two. No telling how many guns and bullets they had left. And it was only a matter of time before they figured out he was dangerously low on lead.
"You wanna talk. Let's talk."
He needed to buy himself time. He had a steel jug full of liquid beneath the bed he needed to prepare- for company. "Where's your price tag huh officer? Up your ass? How much does it cost for an officer of your tenure to spread'em for the mob... or is it the terrorists?"
He shredded a pillow case using a swiss army knife his grandfather, a two war veteran, gave him for his thirteenth birthday, stuffing one of the strips into the mouth of the jug. He struck a match.
"Thats not the conversation im asking for," top hat with the paper replied. "Deals off the table. We're coming in."
He placed the match against the rag, rolling the jug beneath the window.
The shadow reappeared at the window, shattering what's left of the glass with the butt of his shotgun. He had a clear shot of the turncoat cop at the window, but couldnt waste the two slugs he'd already had plans for. He stood tight, waiting for the flame to disappear into the jug. That was not to be. The flame fizzled out before it could touch the tin lips of the container. "Dammit."
It was too late to light a second match. The battering ram had already loosened the door. A leg had already touched carpet, shotgun barrel peeking at him through the curtains.
"I'm still on duty," he smiled to himself as he checked his watch. He reached under his shirt, pulling a crucifix to the surface, and kissing it. He looked to the bathroom, remembering somebody was counting on him on the other side of the door. "You are beautiful, arent you," he laughed.
"Dirty cops..." He aimed his gun over the mattress, waiting for the door to completely collapse; and for the gray top hat with the shotty to grace him with his full presence. He fired his final two slugs towards the jug.
The flames swallowed the cop at the window. The impact of the blast rumbled through the parking lot, turning cars sideways, launching two men and a steel battering ram towards the pool. Two of the officers lay stiff and in flames, gray material melded into their flesh. One officer crawled desperately towards the pool; his skin thinner than the fake documents he touted just minutes earlier.

She took shelter in the tub, curled up in a ball, buried beneath dust and debris once known as the rooftop. She turned a sideye, capturing a clear vision of the moon. The sky never seemed clearer. She lifted her way out of the debris and began to dig. What she saw of him gave her little hope. "Tears for him?" She pondered as they began to flow. She leaned in and kiss his ashy lips. "See... A girl like me always gets what she wants like you said." The kiss was far different from any other she'd given. This was one she wanted to do again and again. She knew that wouldnt be.
She cleared more debris from his torso, revealing more blood and badly seared flesh. She held to him, knowing that was all she could do. She was no doctor, or even a spiritual person who could give him a proper send off to paradise; she wasnt even his love, which she wanted to be. She was a beauty queen; and in that moment, it had never meant less.
Movement echoed in the distance. Whispers...
She grabbed a piece of debris and leveled it towards the noise. "Back off!"
A hand rested on her shoulder. She turned swinging at air.
She never heard her coming...
She lowered the pipe. "Its too dangerous to be here," she told the girl.
"You can save him," said the girl, pointing her fist towards the tearful woman. She flipped her fist, opening her palm slowly, revealing what looked to the woman like a needle. "You can save him," she repeated.
Something about the monotonous tone of the girl's voice made her nervous, yet calm. She took the needle.
"What do I do?"
The young girl lowered her knees into the glassy debris, next to the dying man. She lifted his sleeve, "Save him."
She drove the needle into his veins.