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8
BRIAN
“Oh God, no!”
Mina drops the binoculars and takes off at a run.
“Mina!” I shout. I’m torn between chasing her and picking them up to satisfy my curiosity. Despite all my better instincts, I pick them up and look up at the top floor of the Stryker building.
Fuck.
There’s a small boy—about five years old—with tousled brown hair. His face is lit up with excitement as he watches the fireworks through the floor-to-ceiling windows from the conference room, his hands pressed against the glass.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I run after her. “Mina!”
I look down at my wristwatch. Nine minutes until it blows. And we don’t need to be this close to the scene of the crime.
Fuck!
I can’t find her now. She’s lost in a sea of people waving sparklers around as the parade marches on amidst the fireworks. But I obviously know where she’s going. To be a hero. To save that boy. She doesn’t even know how to disarm the bomb.
“Mina!”
Finally, I see her head turn, but then she’s running again, straight for the building wired up with explosives. She won’t die at the ground level, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be hurt by falling debris.
My heart thunders in my chest as I pick my way through the crowd, finally exiting out into the mostly empty street a block away. Now I can see her. She’s almost to the door. She’ll never get the code in, in time. Not before I reach her.
I tackle her to the ground before she can press the last button into the security keypad.
“Get off me!” she screams.
She fights me like a wild cat. I try to settle her, to calm her in my arms.
“Shhhhh. It’s too late. He won’t feel it. It’ll be quick.”
Finally she stops kicking out, realizing the futility of fighting my hold on her.
This fucking kid. Every single person I need to kill is in this building, on one floor, in one room, all gathered together. I knew it was too easy, too convenient. I should have listened to my instincts.
And now, this kid.
Mina may be dark, but she’s not child murdering dark. It’s not like I get a thrill from it. It’s not like I want collateral damage like this, but there’s no good outcome here. This kid’s fate is sealed, one way or another.
She’s sobbing beneath me now. “No! If you don’t stop this, I will never love you again. I will never look on with anything but revulsion. I will never be yours again, no matter what you do to me, I will never be yours. We are OVER. Do you fucking hear me, Brian? OVER!”
I will never let her go, but I know she means what she says. I can’t bring myself to harm her, and if she isn’t willing to cooperate, then weareover. Whether or not we are shadows passing through each other’s space makes little difference to the reality underneath.
I look down at the watch. Six minutes. Forty-five seconds.
“Goddammit!” I shout. I get off her and push in the last button. “Do NOT follow me. And get the fuck away from the building in case I can’t disarm it in time.”
She nods, and I go inside. I race across the lobby and jab my finger on the elevator button. I glance at the yellow caution tape on the second set of elevators. There’s the nightmare scenario where I get stuck in the elevator or it takes too long and I’m riding up as the bomb explodes, but before I can hesitate and head toward the stairs, the door dings open and I step inside.
Six minutes. I need the time saved by the elevator. Assuming the elevator cooperates.
There are a million reasons why this is stupid.
