Page 159 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Two

He knew she meant to step out and try to talk to the man. Hewould cover her. She was experienced. An expert—andcapable. He nodded in return and whispered, “We need Patrick.”

“He’s close,” Angela said.

“Stop!” she cried to the gunman as he started to raise thegun to his head again.

She stepped out from the cover of the trees, looking attheir costumed ghost. “Don’t. Please, don’t. You didn’t hit any of us. No oneis dead or injured. You might do some jail time, but... please. Don’t throwaway your whole life. Life is precious. Your life isprecious.”

“My life is worthless now.”

The voice was that of a man.

“No. No life is worthless,” Angela called to him.

“You don’t understand. You can kill me, or I can kill me.Better than—”

Patrick arrived. He touched Jackson’s shoulder beforeholstering his weapon and stepping out to join Angela.

“Not armed!” Patrick said quickly, lifting his arms. “Ithink I know what you’re trying to say. You’re afraid of whoever you’re workingfor or with. You’re scared that what they’ll do to you will be far worse thandying.”

“I—”

Patrick took a step toward the man, and the gunman shiftedto point his gun at Patrick.

“Hey,” Patrick said, stopping with his hand in a placatinggesture before lifting his arms again. “I just want to see your face. To seeyou without that sheet. Maybe we can help with that injury.”

“Back away again,” the man said.

Patrick did. After a brief hesitation, the shooter appearedto attempt to maneuver himself out of the sheet while maintaining control ofhis weapon.

“May I help you?” Angela asked him.

He started to laugh. “You. You, of all people. Sure. Um...don’t forget, I have a gun,” he warned.

“We know that,” she assured him.

Jackson held his position, ready to fire if the lives ofeither of his agents were threatened. But Angela moved to the man and carefullypulled the sheet away from him.

His side dripped with blood. She had definitelystruck him.

“You need medical help,” she told him.

The man was in his early twenties with shaggy brown hair, anarrow face, and a slim body. He had the look of a nervous terrier.

Drugs, Jackson thought.He needs a fix.

It was lucky he hadn’t hit anyone, even with asemi-automatic.

Yet still...

Jackson maintained his position. They needed the man alive.They tried to bring people in whenever possible.

They were law enforcement, not judge and jury.

But this time was especially important. Whittaker mightstill be alive.

The man shook his head.

“I need... I need...”