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?I closed my eyes and turned my head in anticipation of the shot.
?“THIS IS THE POLICE,” came a voice over a megaphone. “PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP.”
?Hypno yelled a very unladylike string of curses, enough to make a sailor blush. With no concern about us, she jumped off the loading dock and ran to the car, the pistol in her hand.
?Sheryl gave an exhale of release, turned me around, and pulled me into a hug.
?“That was—” she gushed.
?“I know—”
?“The stupidest thing I’ve ever seen!”
?“I thought I was going to lose you,” I said as I held her tight.
?“I’m not so easy to get rid of,” Sheryl reassured as she hugged me back. She suddenly pushed me to arm’s length. “But, honestly, what the hell were you thinking?”
?Immediately, several police cars pulled up with lights flashing, and a team of men dressed in SWAT gear came from up the street with very impressive guns. Hypno cursed as two officers grabbed her and threw her down on the ground. A team surrounded her and confiscated the pistol.
?In the car, John Stewart held up his left hand and slowly got out. They quickly pushed him face down to the ground.
?Detective Elvis strode up the loading dock stairs. He had on a bulletproof vest with the word “POLICE” on both the front and back. He took off his black helmet. “You two all right?”
?Sheryl released me, after a quick peck on the cheek, and pulled out a small silver device from a hidden pocket somewhere in her black dress. “I recorded the whole thing! I have his confession right here.”
?It was the first time I ever saw Detective Elvis smile.
?And it was beautiful.
?He drew closer and took a hard look at me.
?“You okay, Watkins?”
?“Just a little light-headed,” I told him.
?I looked over at Sheryl and she had blood on her left arm. “You’re hurt!” I said and pointed.
?She looked at the fresh blood and gave a shocked, “Oh!” She rubbed it, but there was no wound. “It’s not mine.”
?“Where did it come from?” I asked.
?Sheryl’s eyes grew large. “Mark, you’re bleeding!”
?“Yeah, you are,” Elvis pointed at my right arm.
?I looked over and saw that my jacket sleeve was saturated with blood, almost down to my wrist. There was a tear in the fabric halfway up my arm.
?Sheryl gave another little “Oh!” of concern.
?“It would seem the knife didn’t miss me,” I gulped, and carefully opened the tear to see how badly I was hurt.
?“Your sleeve’s a mess. That’s a lot of blood, man,” Elvis said.
?“Just a flesh wound,” I offered gallantly as I looked through the rip at the slice in my arm, which did indeed bleed profusely.
?At which point I fell slowly to the ground, as I heard Sheryl shriek.
?But, images flashed in my mind.
