Wynn and Willie rushed downstairs. Catarina shouted, “What was all that screaming.”
Wynn shouted, “They dropped a few bottles and the stuff started burning. If we hurry we can take on one group and have a decent chance of breaking out of here.” He picked up a broken chair leg, “Sic Libre London.”
Then Willy shouted back “Sic Libre London” and the crowd joined him. “Sic Libre London.”
Wynn burst out of the door, “Follow me mates.” He ran for one crowd. The front rank was aflame. Half the people were patting themselves or rolling on the ground. Wynn charged into the middle of the rank and began wailing the chair leg on the second rank. Another bottle broke and there was another scream. Wynn began hitting in a rhythm – lift, smack, step; lift, smack, step. Occasionally there would be a crack and a cry or whimper as a bone was broken. The bar had reached the crowd and was engaging the front and second ranks of the mobs. The motley group of drunk workers had not expected resistance. The mob was starting to break when Carlos screamed, “Dios mio. My leg. Wynn smelled the burning as much as saw it. He looked around. At the front of the second crowd, a posh dressed man was kneeling and holding a rifle. He aimed again and another person screamed and grabbed her side.
Wynn shouted, “Forget these bastards, get the other crowd.”
Behind him Willy shouted, “Sic Libre London.”
Wynn closed the distance in short seconds, but it was still enough time for the man to fire the rifle again into the crowd. Wynn watch as Willy took a beam full in the belly. His eyes went wide and he fell. Wynn screamed “Noo…..” He leapt and brought the club down towards the man holding the beam rifle. The man swung the rifle towards Wynn but it was to late. The leg came down with a sickening crunch on his head and he collapsed. Wynn stood on the rifle and started beating anyone who was nearby. The crowd started breaking up around Wynn. Others came up and took up the fight shouting “Sic Libre London.” Then the sound of bobbies whistles came. Both sides of the mob looked up and started to run away.
Wynn grabbed the rifle and headed to Willy. Willy was on the ground face up. His breathing was labored and full of fluid. Willy’s middle was raw and smoking and smelled of seared meat. Willy choked, “We beat ‘em. Wynn. We beat ‘em.” And then the breathing stopped and his eyes lost focus. The bobbies came up. It took four of them to pull Wynn away from Willy’s body and throw him into a paddy wagon.
This is a short section. I felt that this section would be better by itself. Those have read my work know I am not wild about killing off characters, even secondary one. But things have to happen and I need to work on putting my characters in more peril.