The Blade Itself

For the first time in his life, Da

Two gun blasts split the world. And in the burned-out light of the muzzle flashes, Debbie’s chest exploded.

Her arms spread like an angel beseeching grace.

Her lips framed a moan.

And then she fell.

Da

So many years, and yet here he was again.

And then, from a position behind the lumber pile, Nolan was firing. The blasts broke Da

Gritting his teeth, he forced his eyes away from her body.

The others crouched behind the bricks. Karen was frantically gesturing him over. Nolan had settled behind the lumber pile in a target shooter’s stance, his attention entirely on the room where Evan had disappeared.

Behind and to the near side of the detective, the stairwell was clear.

There might not be a better moment. Da

“Can you run?”

She nodded. He grabbed Richard’s shoulder.

“The stairwell. Let’s go.” Without waiting for a reply, he leapt to his feet, sprinting forward. If Evan fired, he wanted to be the target. His feet slapped the ground. A gun blast exploded from somewhere, shatteringly loud. Behind him, he could hear the fumbling sounds of the others. Nolan glanced at him and cursed, started to swing the gun over and thought better of it, turning back to cover them. He fired twice, the flashes painting his face in garish colors, and then Da

The four of them hurtled down the dark steps, Karen and Tommy a flight ahead, holding hands. More gunfire exploded above. He and Richard ran together, taking stairs four at a time.

As they stepped on the landing just above the first floor, he heard three shots in rapid succession, followed by Nolan’s scream.

Da

Ahead of them, the stairs were clear. No way Evan could catch them. The Rover was unlocked and ru

Upstairs, Nolan was alone. Wounded. And facing the monster Da

“Come on.” Richard shook with impatience.

When Debbie had fallen, Da

Who said fate lacked a sense of poetry?

Da

For an instant they locked eyes in the twilight gloom, two men pushed to the naked edge of reason. Something passed between them. Something like understanding. Then Richard nodded, turned, and dashed down the steps. The last Da

Da

Time to settle that marker. For Patrick. For Debbie.

For himself.

He took a breath and started back up the stairs.

47

A strange calm had descended. His heart still pounded, but now he felt a mastery over it, a lightness. He moved upward as silently as speed would allow, taking the steps in long strides, his eyes fixed on the open doorway. Sean had been hit, that much he knew. But how badly?

Reaching the landing, he pressed his back against the wall. He wanted to wait, to figure out exactly where they were, but knew that could be fatal for Nolan.

Breathing softly, he peered around the edge of the door.

The detective wasn’t by the woodpile, and it took a moment to spot him. When Da

Nolan knelt at the building’s edge, some fifty feet away. Blood stained the upper part of his torso black. Evan stood in front of him, pistol pressed against Sean’s forehead. The duffel bag lay on the floor a half dozen paces away.

Without pausing to consider, Da

Fifteen feet took him to the lumber. Good cover, but not much else. The once neat stack had toppled and spilled sideways. The shorter pieces were hopelessly entangled with the larger, and there was no way to extract one without making noise. Da

On the building’s edge Sean knelt with his head bowed, apparently paying no attention to whatever Evan was asking. The stain on his chest continued to grow, and a small pool of blood had formed under his knees. Staring helplessly, Da

A gun. Nolan must have dropped it when he got hit.

Da

Retrieving the gun meant leaving cover, crossing into an open area. If Evan heard him, it was over for both of them.

Moving lightly, he crept out from behind the lumber. His heart sounded in his ears, thum-thUMP, thum-thUMP. He kept his weight on the balls of his feet as he walked the long tightrope across the room. His body tingled all over, the soreness of his muscles forgotten. The night air felt cool but very distant. Ten more steps. He tried to bring to mind everything he knew about guns. Beyond undoing the safety, it wasn’t much. He lifted a foot, leaned in, set it down gently. Every move precise. Careful. Not once giving in to the voice that yelled inside him. The whole weight of his life, and of Nolan’s, depended on doing this perfectly. Five more steps. Evan’s voice drifted through the air. The words sounded slow motion, dragged out like a tape loop. Weird, alien murmurs. He wondered if the others were away, if they’d made it to safety. He could feel each nerve in his feet, each current of air on his skin.