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“You kidnapped me,” Issac reminded him, practically giddy as he stared up the barrel of the pistol. “My only plans for tonight were pizza and studying.”
Finnegan’s jaw tightened and faintly Issac could hear the obnoxious roar of the Russian hotrods.
“Finnegan,” someone shouted, their voice cracking. “There are… six cars out the- Is that a fucking riot shield?”
“Who the fuck has a battering ra-” another person shouted only to be interrupted by a third, “Holy fuck, that fucker’s big.”
“Bist du bereit zu sterben, Finnegan,” Issac said, remembering hearing those words from his dad’s lips in this very pub, suddenly very serious.
“I should have killed ya years ago,” Finnegan breathed. “Ya were always too much like that bitch.”
“You’re dead either way,” Issac reminded him, never blinking as the trigger started to squeeze back. Over the speakers, the song was starting to fade; he could hear running footsteps from the pub. “I only regret not getting to watch the Cat tear you apart like the rat you are.”
There was a bang and Issac flinched, pain erupting through him again. His eyes closed despite his desire to keep them open in death, hot blood spraying over his face.
Something fell, hard and heavy onto the ground at his feet.
He opened his eyes as he heard the panic of men from the other room. The kid, Tommy, was standing just inside the room, his green eyes wide as he shook and stared at the ground at Issac’s feet. He had a pistol in his hand, his finger safely away from the trigger but white-knuckling the two-handed grip. “Fuck,” he whimpered and dropped the gun, “fuck, fuck, fuck!”
From the other room, there was a crash and Tommy’s eyes jerked back over his shoulder.
“Tommy,” Issac wheezed.
The kid didn’t look at him.
He took a deeper breath, wincing and his vision tunneled. “Thomas,” he ordered, making the bass in his voice project over the sounds of gunshots and men shouting.
Scared green eyes snapped back to Issac.
“Move three steps to your left, get on your knees- and put your hands behind your head,” Issac told him, choking a bit on the words but getting them out.
Tommy obediently stepped to the side, away from the gun and Issac. “Th-that Snake guy said to cut you loose,” he stammered, getting on his knees. “Sh-shouldn’t I-”
Issac let out a laugh and his vision tunneled again, his head throbbing each time another gun went off. “You do not want to be anywhere near me when they come this way,” he wheezed, his neck starting to lose the ability to hold his head up.
Finnegan’s body was at his feet with its ghost doppelgangers. The tunneling of his vision wasn’t going away.
“Thomas,” he said softly, not sure if the kid could hear him since he could barely hear himself. “I’m going to pass out here in a second.”
“No, no, no,” Tommy said desperately. “Don’t do that! Don’t fall asleep!”
“How old are you,” Issac muttered.
“Twe- eighteen- in three weeks,” Tommy said, his voice cracking. “Don’t fall asleep, Issac!”
“I was ten when Finnegan set me up,” Issac wheezed. “He lied to me. Told me that he had prepaid for me to get a treat at the convenience store around the corner. Is it still there?”
“Y-yeah, it’s still there,” Tommy said. “Please, Issac!”
“He’s not going to fuck up any more kids’ lives,” Issac muttered, closing his eyes when they got too heavy. He couldn’t see anything anyways for the splitting headache he had.
“Stay with me, please,” Tommy sobbed. “Please!”
Issac wanted to say something reassuring but his tongue wouldn’t move. He couldn’t seem to get any air.
“Fuck,” Tommy sobbed then raised his voice. “IN HERE! HE’S IN HERE!”
* * *
