the gun.
"Now! Run, Gabby! Run aw—"
Ted smiled, squeezed the trigger, and shot Eric in the chest. But Julie did exactly what she was told. She squirmed away, sprinted across room, and disappeared through the door into the house proper. Angela was resigned to dying, but if she had to go, she prayed this would be the last thing she would see, the last thing she would know: that her daughter had a chance again, however small.
Eric stayed standing, took one step forward, took another bullet to the chest. This one sent him slumping backwards onto the ground, until his head was propped on the cement bag next to Angela. Ted aimed carefully at his face and pulled the trigger. She wanted to close her eyes but couldn't.
The gun clicked and jammed hard with the slide back.
"Lucky for you this is a cheap piece of shit," he said. He worked the slide back and forth, muttering to himself. Eric rolled over onto his belly and started trying to pull himself up the cement bag, dragging himself over loose tools.
"You shouldn't strain yourself there, buddy. You'll just bleed out faster."
"Fuck you." Blood foamed out of Eric's mouth along with the obscenities.
"OK, I'll be back," Ted said. "Looks like this will get to be a knife thing after all. Maybe I'll run into Julie too! Don't you two go anywhere." He laughed and walked out the door.
Angela looked down at Eric. His face was down on the floor, nearly between her knees. She could only think of one thing to say.
"I'm sorry I didn't believe you."
He labored with his breath for a second, then said: "I'm sorry I killed your dog. I just…I needed to be able to get to him."
Angela had loved that dog, shuddered, but still nodded.
"We're going to die," she said.
"Probably." Blood was frothing out of his mouth even when he wasn't talking now. "When I say so, can you flip that switch?" He used his eyes to indicate a toggle on a black box.
Angela was about to ask for what, but ended up just nodding as Ted walked back in, now holding another knife out of the kitchen block.
"So, it comes down to this," he said. "You thought you could turn your pathetic revenge fantasies into some kind of reality. And now you're—"
Eric grunted something and blood spattered across the floor.
"What was that?" Ted asked.
"I said," Eric wheezed in air before finishing his sentence, "shut up."
Ted turned red, then purple, and blew his top. "You said that to me once before, ten years ago, and I gave you what you deserved. I told you then you'd never say that to me again. Now I'm going to prove it to you."
Ted stepped over Eric's prone body. From between Ted's legs he nodded at Angela who reached out with her less-numb arm and flipped the switch. The box roared to life. From the sound of the rapid clacking she identified it as an air compressor she'd heard the contractors using.
Ted looked surprised, but put on another smile and reversed his grip on the knife so that the blade pointed down. "Whatever you're trying, it's way too late. I'm going to—"
Eric rolled off the nail gun he'd been laying on, then used the floor to lever the business end upward.
"Shut up," he said again, and pulled the trigger.
The nail shot up vertically and went through the soft underbelly of Ted's jaw and up through his mouth, neatly stapling his tongue to his brain stem. The man who had been her husband registered just a moment of confusion. Then whatever light was in his eyes went out, and he fell quietly backwards though the hole in the floor.
Angela gave some kind of mental cheer, and passed out.
12
"Mommy, why did that man call me Gabby?"
Angela was tucking her daughter into bed as the lights flickered and the wind pounded the walls outside, both heralding Hurricane Marco's imminent arrival.
The police, with Frank Cooper in the lead, had shown up about fifteen minutes after Angela gave in to unconsciousness. It turned out Julie hadn't followed instructions exactly. Instead of hiding she had run out the front door and
"Now! Run, Gabby! Run aw—"
Ted smiled, squeezed the trigger, and shot Eric in the chest. But Julie did exactly what she was told. She squirmed away, sprinted across room, and disappeared through the door into the house proper. Angela was resigned to dying, but if she had to go, she prayed this would be the last thing she would see, the last thing she would know: that her daughter had a chance again, however small.
Eric stayed standing, took one step forward, took another bullet to the chest. This one sent him slumping backwards onto the ground, until his head was propped on the cement bag next to Angela. Ted aimed carefully at his face and pulled the trigger. She wanted to close her eyes but couldn't.
The gun clicked and jammed hard with the slide back.
"Lucky for you this is a cheap piece of shit," he said. He worked the slide back and forth, muttering to himself. Eric rolled over onto his belly and started trying to pull himself up the cement bag, dragging himself over loose tools.
"You shouldn't strain yourself there, buddy. You'll just bleed out faster."
"Fuck you." Blood foamed out of Eric's mouth along with the obscenities.
"OK, I'll be back," Ted said. "Looks like this will get to be a knife thing after all. Maybe I'll run into Julie too! Don't you two go anywhere." He laughed and walked out the door.
Angela looked down at Eric. His face was down on the floor, nearly between her knees. She could only think of one thing to say.
"I'm sorry I didn't believe you."
He labored with his breath for a second, then said: "I'm sorry I killed your dog. I just…I needed to be able to get to him."
Angela had loved that dog, shuddered, but still nodded.
"We're going to die," she said.
"Probably." Blood was frothing out of his mouth even when he wasn't talking now. "When I say so, can you flip that switch?" He used his eyes to indicate a toggle on a black box.
Angela was about to ask for what, but ended up just nodding as Ted walked back in, now holding another knife out of the kitchen block.
"So, it comes down to this," he said. "You thought you could turn your pathetic revenge fantasies into some kind of reality. And now you're—"
Eric grunted something and blood spattered across the floor.
"What was that?" Ted asked.
"I said," Eric wheezed in air before finishing his sentence, "shut up."
Ted turned red, then purple, and blew his top. "You said that to me once before, ten years ago, and I gave you what you deserved. I told you then you'd never say that to me again. Now I'm going to prove it to you."
Ted stepped over Eric's prone body. From between Ted's legs he nodded at Angela who reached out with her less-numb arm and flipped the switch. The box roared to life. From the sound of the rapid clacking she identified it as an air compressor she'd heard the contractors using.
Ted looked surprised, but put on another smile and reversed his grip on the knife so that the blade pointed down. "Whatever you're trying, it's way too late. I'm going to—"
Eric rolled off the nail gun he'd been laying on, then used the floor to lever the business end upward.
"Shut up," he said again, and pulled the trigger.
The nail shot up vertically and went through the soft underbelly of Ted's jaw and up through his mouth, neatly stapling his tongue to his brain stem. The man who had been her husband registered just a moment of confusion. Then whatever light was in his eyes went out, and he fell quietly backwards though the hole in the floor.
Angela gave some kind of mental cheer, and passed out.
12
"Mommy, why did that man call me Gabby?"
Angela was tucking her daughter into bed as the lights flickered and the wind pounded the walls outside, both heralding Hurricane Marco's imminent arrival.
The police, with Frank Cooper in the lead, had shown up about fifteen minutes after Angela gave in to unconsciousness. It turned out Julie hadn't followed instructions exactly. Instead of hiding she had run out the front door and
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