Richard Doetsch - Half-Past Dawn

Jack watched as Cristos ran through the doorway and up the stairs, waiting a few moments before he emerged from the shadows and pulled the emergency exit door closed. He knew there was no reentry and that the door exited five floors up on the opposite side of the building.

Without another thought and his plan in motion, Jack ran through the cavernous evidence room, past Charlie’s dead body, and through the lobby and its carnage. He hit the elevator button and prayed for its quick arrival. He felt the rabbit’s foot in his pocket and prayed that it would impart the luck that Charlie wanted to give.

Cab four on the far left arrived; he hopped in and hit the button for the lobby. He quickly stepped up on the handrail and pushed aside the small ceiling service panel. But what he saw made any hope of escape via the shaftway quickly disappear. Hundreds of pin-red security lasers bounced around the shaft, flicking on and off and on as the cab rose toward the main floor. If Jack was to break the plane of a single one, every alarm in the complex would sound.

Jack knew that the chances of getting out of the Tombs were slim. He still had to face Josh up in the lobby, but at least Larry would be there. And with the rear fire stairs exiting in the back vestibule of the building, it would be only moments before Cristos was behind him again.

With the case in his possession, Jack had the one chip that could get Mia back, the one item that Cristos wouldn’t dare let get away. And as he looked at Charlie’s blood on his hands and shirt, Jack decided right there that too many people had already died over this box to let it slip into Cristos’s hands. This wasn’t just about saving Mia anymore; it was about salvaging some meaning for those who had perished in its wake.

The elevator door opened. Jack stood there staring out at Josh and Larry, whose conversation suddenly fell silent as they saw Jack, a black bag over his shoulder, the top of a metal case protruding from the top.

“Mr. Keeler?” Larry’s tone conveyed his shock at Jack’s appearance, the blood on his shirt, the gun dangling from his hand.

But Jack wasn’t looking back at Larry; he was staring directly at Josh, whose shock was even more evident. Josh subtly moved his hand into his jacket.

The sound of a cell phone shattered the moment, echoing off the cavernous marble space. Josh quickly pulled his phone and answered it, his eyes never leaving Jack’s.

“Yeah,” was all he said, listening intently, nodding his head. With Larry’s focus on Jack, he never saw Josh draw his pistol.

“What’s… going on?” Larry said, his fingers drifting toward the emergency button on his desk.

Jack gripped his pistol tighter.

Josh slowly closed his cell phone and slipped it back into his pocket. The moment hung in the air, the two men locked into each other with knowing stares.

Suddenly, Jack whipped up his gun, firing at Josh, who dove for cover returning fire, the report amplified in the large space.

“Larry!” Jack shouted. “Stay down!” Larry scrambled under his desk, quickly drawing his weapon as he reached up to the command desk and hit the single red button. The cry of the alarm shrieked through the building. All doors and gates went into emergency lock-down, the loud thud of their slamming dead bolts and bars cutting through the high-pitched alarm’s scream.

Jack rapid-fired his weapon, racing for the front door, despite the fact that it was locked tight behind bulletproof glass and dead bolts. He’d have more luck trying to penetrate the solid walls.

Josh answered back, firing his gun with far more care and accuracy than Jack, the bullets slamming into the ground around him, hitting the walls, barely missing him.

And as Jack’s gun clicked out empty, he dove for cover by the door. He pulled the second and last clip, ejecting the first and slamming home his last fifteen bullets.

“Larry!” Jack yelled, his heart pouring through his words, pleading for release. “You’ve got to let me out of here. They have Mia. They’re going to kill her. I’m the only one who can save her!”

Larry stared back at the DA, one of the most respected men in the city, who stood crouched by the door, behind the large garbage receptacle, trading gunfire with the FBI agent known as Josh.

He had no idea what was going on but didn’t trust the FBI agent, who had taken cover behind a marble column, with a far superior position on Jack, one that would help him triumph if the firefight lasted much longer.

Larry knew protocol. Lock it all down. No one in or out until backup arrived, until someone in command made a decision. Larry respected the chain of authority and had never defied protocol, but there was no protocol for the decision he was about to make.

It wasn’t his respect for Jack, or the fact that he was a former police officer-it was simply his plight. Larry knew what he would do if someone would dare try to kill his wife, Daria.

And despite the fact that he knew he would be facing the hell of a disciplinary hearing and probable removal from the force, he hit the door release.

Jack burst out of the front of the Tombs and sprinted up the sidewalk. Seconds later, Josh dove out the door in pursuit, his arms pumping, his pistol clutched in his hand.

And then the black Suburban came tearing around the corner, its wheels screaming in protest as the SUV dug in and raced toward Jack, the roar of its redlined engine bellowing in the concrete caverns of Lower Manhattan. Jack ran, pushing himself to the limit, but knew there was no way he could outrun the SUV. There were no alleys to duck into, no open buildings on a Friday night, no savior to pluck him from certain death.

The downtown sidewalks were empty, devoid of people for the weekend except for those cutting through to some other destination. It was just Jack and the lone black vehicle that hunted him like a wounded animal. He held tight to the strap on his shoulder, the black bag that held the case, a prize that was only leaving death in its wake.

The SUV was less than fifty yards back, bearing down on him. It would be only seconds before they ran him down, for Jack knew they had no intention of letting him live.

And as the SUV cut the distance in half, only seconds away, a Jeep mounted the curb and skidded to a stop, nearly hitting Jack. The door flew open, and Jack stared into Frank’s eyes.

“Let’s go!”

With its grille lights flashing and siren wailing, the Jeep entered the FDR Drive, the East River whipping by.

“Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Frank said as he white-knuckled the wheel. “You disappear from your house, I think the worst, and then I hear on the radio about an emergency lockdown of the Tombs.”

Jack said nothing.

“Are you out of your frickin’ mind? I waited and waited until I realized where you were probably headed. What were you thinking? The whole world is going to be looking for you now.”

Jack said nothing as he kept looking back at the SUV, which was cutting the distance by the second.

“Do you want to tell me what’s in that thing?” Frank pointed at the case protruding from the bag on Jack’s lap.

“Just get us the hell away from that guy.”

Frank didn’t say another word as the Jeep rocketed up the FDR, swerving in and out of traffic, braking and accelerating as he barely eluded the black SUV.

As Jack looked over his shoulder and saw the approaching Suburban barreling their way, it reminded him that just twenty-four hours ago, the same black vehicle had raced up behind him on Route 22. Although last night he was unaware of what the black car would unleash on his world, this time Jack was well aware that it would deliever only death.