Marcus Sakey - The Blade Itself

“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 Danny reached the open stairwell door and stopped to help the others through. Karen came first, light on her feet, dragging Tommy behind her. Richard took up the rear, vanishing into the darkness. As Danny spun to follow, another blast roared. A patch of cinder block exploded right where he’d been standing, chips and dust showering down, and then he was in the shaft, the others already running down the stairs. Karen turned to see that he had made it, and he gestured her on. “Go!”

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.

Danny froze. Richard stopped beside him, his look quizzical and eager. Only silence from above. His heart pumped panic, his lungs sucked fear.

Ahead of them, the stairs were clear. No way Evan could catch them. The Rover was unlocked and running. They could be out the door and safe in seconds.

Upstairs, Nolan was alone. Wounded. And facing the monster Danny had helped create.

“Come on.” Richard shook with impatience.

When Debbie had fallen, Danny had felt for a second like he was back in the pawnshop. Evan gone kill-crazy and a body on the floor. The last time he’d chosen to walk out. Now here he was again, faced with the same options.

Who said fate lacked a sense of poetry?

Danny grimaced. No more wrong choices. “Get them out of here.”

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 Danny saw of him was his bright Nikes as he raced out of the stairwell.

Danny stood alone in the darkness, his body jittery with adrenaline. On the roof, he’d realized that he didn’t expect to make it out alive. He’d sworn a silent promise that if saving the others meant sacrificing himself, it was a deal he could accept.

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

For himself.

He took a breath and started back up the stairs.

Astrange 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 Danny did, he found himself torn between standing rigid in fear and running out like a fool.

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, Danny stepped out, keeping low but moving fast, sure at any moment he would see a plume of orange, watch Nolan’s lifeless body fly backward.

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. Danny still had the knife on his key chain, but it was a laughable match for Evan’s pistol. Which tool would he use, the can opener or the folding scissors? Besides, sneaking that close to Evan seemed impossible. The space was too open.

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, Danny noticed a trail of black running from the pool. Evan must have dragged the detective to the lip. Enjoying the theater. Unconsciously, Danny’s eyes followed the trail. There was a silver shape lying where it began, some twenty feet away.

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

Danny snuck another look at Evan. He still couldn’t make out any words, but something told him the shot was coming soon.

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.

And then he was bending to scoop up the gun. It felt heavy in his hand, heavier than he’d expected. Hot and vaguely oily. He fought a mad urge to come up blasting away like in some seventies cop show. He had to get closer.

He walked on tiptoe, his arm rigid ahead of him. Locked on Evan like a compass pointing north. Each terrible step brought him nearer. He became aware of his breathing, how shallowly he was drawing air into his lungs. The weight of the gun kept his muscle tensed. How much time had passed? Probably only seconds. Felt longer. Felt like eternities had flowed beneath his feet. He thought of Debbie, eternally reaching for grace. The veins in his throat throbbed. He could taste sweat on his upper lip. Every careful step brought him closer. He wanted to cock the gun, but was afraid the noise would give him away. He thought it would fire anyway. Wasn’t cocking just to make it faster, smoother? He thought of Patrick, his laughter silenced with a bullet, body dumped in the river like trash. Danny ached from the beatings of the last days. The agonizing pace made him feel every movement. On the edge of the drop, Nolan said something, his voice dismissive. Evan laughed, a deep, cold laugh. The sound of a man who knew he’d won. Then he popped his head to either side and leaned forward, the pistol touching Nolan’s forehead.

A dozen feet away, Danny stared down the length of his arm, his childhood friend square in the sights. He closed one eye and pointed the pistol at Evan’s chest, dead center of his beating heart. Concentrated so hard that everything lost focus. So that Karen and Tommy and Debbie and Patrick all disappeared. So that Evan became only a pattern of colors. Then he squeezed the trigger.

The click echoed loud in the open space.