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Black beard lunges forward.
I reach. Grip the gun. Tug. Lurch backward.
Felix and the man with the earring are on the ground. Rolling. Grunts. Punches.
Crunch.
A shadow crosses the floor.
I flip the gun. Wrap my finger through the hole.
Hold it steady. Squeeze.
Pop.
It’s a muted discharge.
Keep shooting until he’s down.
Sam’s voice. My arms shake. But I keep the gun pointed, my finger tight around the trigger.
Black beard steps back. It’s as if I punched him. But I didn’t.
I aimed at his chest. Below the cross. But the kickback. It went higher. I didn’t have a good grip. I hit him right above the clavicle.
Blood spills. Spreads. Soaking the light blue.
The whites of his eyes flash.
I didn’t mean to.
He falls back against the wall. His head misses a bike wheel by inches.
On the floor, the other man lies still near Felix. He’s face down. A stream of blood flows from his body. A narrow bloody river over a white pine floor.
“You okay?” Felix pushes back from the man. His legs are sprawled near black beard’s body. Felix clutches his side. Blood seeps between his fingers.
“You’re hit.” My voice isn’t my own. But it is. My hand comes into view. Both of them. Clutching a gun.
“See if you can get a signal. Call Arrow.”
The man in the corner breathes. His gaze follows me. I feel it on my back.
I set the gun on the table. It’s a Glock.
No safety. All you do is point and shoot.
The end of the gun points in Felix’s direction. I spin it. To the window.
“Where’s your phone?”
Felix gestures to his back pocket.
I find it, careful to avoid his wound. “There’s no signal.”
“They weren’t shitting. You’re going to need to go to the offices. Do you know where they are?”
Stella took me to the offices this morning. I nod.
