Already Gone (23 page)

“Where is he?”

Briggs comes out of the elevator first, looking from me to the oven room. For a second, I think I see a flash of fear in his eyes, but it’s gone so fast that I wonder if I imagined it.

“You.” He points, moves toward me. “Where is he?”

I raise the gun and he stops.

“Think about this,” he says. “You have no idea what kind of shit you’re about to start.”

“Where’s Diane?”

Briggs stares at me, smiles.

It takes all I’ve got not to pull the trigger.

I start to ask again, and then I hear her voice.

“Jake?”

I look past him and see Diane coming out of the elevator.

The side of her face is red, and there’s blood on her lip. I start toward her, but Briggs moves first. He reaches up and grabs the barrel of the gun, stepping to the side and twisting it out of my hand in one easy movement.

It’s so fast that by the time I realize what happened, Briggs is up and firing, the metallic whisper punch of bullets tearing into Gabby’s men.

I run toward Diane, grab her hand, and drag her behind the metal doors and into the oven room. Gabby and one of his men are inside, standing with their backs against the wall. The man is carrying a short-barreled shotgun. Gabby is holding a pistol. Behind him, Mathew Pavel steps forward, sliding a long clip into a black assault rifle.

I pull Diane into the corner, and we duck behind a stack of shipping pallets. “Stay down.”

She nods, her eyes wide.

I look up and see Gabby nod to Mathew, then all three of them step through the doorway, firing as they go.

The sound of the assault rifle is rapid and loud, and it echoes through the room. When the shooting stops, I get up to look, but Diane grabs my arm and holds me back.

“It’s okay,” I say. “Wait here.”

I come around the corner and see several bodies lying on the ground. Briggs is sitting with his back to the wall. There’s a hole in his neck, and the blood pumps out in waves, rolling down the front of his shirt.

I hear Gabby say, “It’s clear.”

I start toward the metal door, but Diane stops me, says, “Don’t, Jake.”

I ignore her and cross the room to where Gabby is standing over the body of one of his men. As I get closer, I notice blood dripping off his hand onto the floor.

“You’re hit.” I point to his arm. “You okay?”

Gabby doesn’t answer, just stares at the kid lying torn and broken on the floor.

I look around. Mathew is checking bodies, moving from one to the next. He stops in front of Briggs and bends down.

I walk up behind him. “Is he dead?”

Mathew shakes his head.

I hear Gabby pull the slide back on the gun, and when I turn around, he’s looking at me.

“Bring her out here.”

“We’re leaving,” I say. “You keep whatever you were going to give me. I don’t want any part of this.”

“Too late for that. Bring her out here, or I’ll get her myself.”

He starts through the doors toward the oven room, but I step in front of him, say, “I can’t let you hurt her.”

Gabby lifts the gun and presses it against my forehead.

I don’t blink, just stare at him.

“Move.”

I shake my head. “No.”

A second later, I hear Diane come up behind me, and everything inside me shrinks. Gabby sees her and points the gun at her. I reach for it, then see Briggs shift against the far wall. He has a gun in his hand, and he lifts it, slow.

I yell, but it’s too late.

Briggs fires.

The bullet hits Mathew Pavel in the side, just above his waist. He turns, backs up, then drops to one knee.

Gabby moves fast, crossing the room to Briggs and pulling the gun away. Briggs’s arm drops to the ground. He sees me and smiles, his teeth coated in blood.

He coughs and looks away.

Gabby raises his gun and fires.

The bullet hits Briggs in the center of his forehead, and the force slams his skull back against the wall before dropping forward and settling loose against his chest, blood pouring freely into his lap.

In the middle of the room, Mathew is still on one knee, struggling to breathe. He sits, easing himself onto his back. He looks at Gabby for a moment, then up at the ceiling, the shadows, and the orange light flashing in from the oven.

Gabby comes over and stares down at him, silent.

A minute later the elevator motor kicks on, and the light above the door flashes red.

Gabby sees it and frowns. “Oh, fuck.”

The doors open, and no one moves.

Alek is alone in the elevator. He looks from Gabby to me to his brother lying on the floor. He steps out, never taking his eyes off Mathew.

When he gets close, he kneels next to him, blood spreading under them both. A second later, I hear a low growl coming from deep in his throat.

Every instinct I have tells me to run, but I can’t move.

Mathew’s body starts shaking. He coughs and blood sprays out of his mouth and runs down the side of his face.

Then he’s still.

Alek stands, and I step back.

He starts toward Gabby.

The man with the shotgun steps forward and puts his hand on Alek’s chest and says, “Hold on a—”

Alek doesn’t look at him, just grabs his wrist and twists, hard, snapping cartilage and bone. The man screams. Alek slams his fist into the center of the man’s throat. Something cracks, and the screaming stops. The man drops, silent.

Gabby lifts the gun, but Alek doesn’t stop.

Gabby pulls the trigger.

It clicks empty.

Alek grabs him, pulling him off his feet, his arm around his neck. Gabby drives his elbow into Alek’s chest and twists away, locking his arm in his.

Alek cries out in pain, and for a second I think Gabby has the upper hand. The way he has his arm locked, I’m sure it’ll snap at any second.

But it doesn’t.

Instead, Alek ducks down and sweeps Gabby’s legs out from under him. They both go down, hitting the cement hard. Alek rolls on top of him and slams his fist into Gabby’s face, over and over.

I hear the back of Gabby’s head smacking against the cement with each punch. I run over to pull Alek away, but Diane comes up behind me and grabs my hand.

“No, Jake,” she says. “Let’s go, now.”

She pulls me toward the elevator.

Alek stops hitting Gabby and wraps his hands around his throat. There is blood everywhere, covering them both.

Diane pulls harder, but I twist my hand away and grab Gabby’s gun off the ground.

I hear Diane say, “Stop.”

But I don’t have a choice.

I can’t let Gabby die down here, not like this.

I run up behind Alek and slam the butt of the gun against the side of his head, hard enough to make my ribs scream in my chest.

It gets his attention.

Alek lets go of Gabby and comes at me, fast.

I try to hit him again, but I’m not quick enough. He wraps his hand around my neck and slams me against the wall, his fingers digging into my throat.

I can’t breathe.

Diane is behind him, screaming, hitting him.

He turns and slaps her, and I watch her fall.

The wall is smooth, nothing to grab. I try to pry his fingers away, but he only squeezes tighter, cutting off blood and air. I know that if I don’t do something now, I’ll never get another chance.

I lift my legs, bracing my knees against his chest, and push away as hard as I can. For a second, I feel his grip loosen enough for me to take in a breath. It helps, and I push my knees against him again, harder.

This time his grip slips, and I drop to the floor, hitting the concrete, gasping for breath.

The air burns, but I’m breathing again.

I only have time for a couple breaths before he’s on me, pulling me to my feet. He slams me back against the wall, and the room spins around me. I can’t focus, and I have no idea what’s coming.

Then I hear the gunshot, and everything goes dark.

When I open my eyes I’m sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall. Alek Pavel is lying next to me. The back of his head is missing.

Diane is standing beside me, and I can already see the bruise forming around her eye. She’s pulling my arm, begging me to get up.

Behind her, Gabby is sitting with the short-barreled shotgun on his lap, watching us. He is soaked in blood, and the light from the oven covers him like a shadow.

“Please, baby,” Diane says. “We have to go.”

I force myself up, then let Diane lead me across the room toward the elevator.

Gabby’s eyes follow us.

Diane pushes the call button and the elevator doors slide open. Before I get in, I turn and look back at Gabby.

“I’m sorry.”

Gabby watches us step into the elevator. Then he points the gun at Diane and pulls the trigger.

It clicks on an empty chamber.

Diane moans, the sound weak and tired.

He’s still staring at us when the elevator doors close.

We take one of the SUVs and drive out of the lot and across town toward the university and Doug’s house. I stay in the car while Diane runs up the driveway to the front door and knocks. The snow is falling heavier now, and she folds her arms across her chest as she waits.

I lean back and close my eyes.

When I open them again, Diane is standing at the passenger door, pulling me up, telling me not to fall asleep.

Doug is on the porch, watching.

I grab the edge of the door and ease myself up to standing, then we walk up the driveway to the house. Doug holds the front door open. Once we’re inside, he leads us to the kitchen and I sit at the table.

Diane asks Doug for a washcloth.

“There’s a closet in the hall,” he says. “Towels, washcloths. Grab a few.”

I look at Doug. “I’m sorry about this.”

“Are you okay?”

I nod. “I think I look worse than I feel.”

“That’s good, because you look like shit.” He frowns. “You need to go to a hospital, buddy.”

There’s no wink, no lighthearted comment, and that scares me more than anything. I try to smile. “Do I look that bad?”

“You want a mirror?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I just need to rest for a while.”

“Fine, but then we go to a hospital.”

I hear a door open in the hallway and Diane shouts, “Can I use any of these?”

Doug tells her she can.

“No hospital,” I say. “If I check in, the police will pick me up right away.” I lean forward and cough into my palm. The pain shudders through me. “That’s why we came here. There’s a cop car parked outside our house.”

“Maybe you should talk to them.”

“Turn myself in?”

“You didn’t do anything, right?”

“I didn’t kill Nolan, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Then give a statement, answer their questions. If they can’t pin anything on you, they have to let you go.”

“There’s more to it.”

Doug waits for me to go on.

“It’s not just the cops I’m worried about.”

“Then what is it?”

“Gabby.” I adjust myself in the seat. “He’s looking for us. I think he’s going to try to kill Diane.”

“And there’s my next question.” He motions to the hallway. “You want to explain her to me?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m sure it is, but we’ve got time.”

I start to explain, but then Diane comes back into the kitchen carrying a towel and several washcloths.

I look at Doug and shake my head.

“Are these okay?” she asks.

“They’re fine.”

Diane turns the water on in the sink and holds her fingers under the stream, testing the temperature.

Doug stares at me. “How can I help?”

“We need a place to go. Just for a while, until we can figure out our next move.”

“You can’t stay here. The cops came by this afternoon looking for you. It’s not safe.”

“No, not here,” I say.

Doug frowns. “Then I’m not following you.”

“You mentioned your place in Mexico.”

“The beach house?”

I nod. “Would you mind?”

“I haven’t been down there in a couple years. I’ve got no idea what kind of shape it’s in.”

“That doesn’t matter. We just need a place to lie low for a while.”

Doug leans back against the counter and folds his arms across his chest. “How do you plan on making it to the border? The cops are everywhere down there.”

“We’ll make it.”

Doug turns to Diane at the sink and says, “It’s an old house, hon. That’s about as hot as it’s going to get.”

Diane runs a washcloth under the water, then kneels in front of me and starts wiping the blood off my face.

I reach up and take her wrist, soft. “I’ll do it.”

She hands me the washcloth.

For a few minutes we’re all quiet. Then Doug pushes himself away from the counter and says, “I don’t know, Jake. I think it’s a bad move.”

“Is that a no?”

“I didn’t say that. I just think it’s a bad move. Have you thought it through?”

“We have to go somewhere, the farther away the better. We’ll figure out everything else once we’ve gone.”

Doug pulls a chair from the table and sits. “It’s late. Stay here tonight. We can talk in the morning.”

“We should keep moving.”

“I’ll pull your car into the garage where no one will see it.” He looks from Diane to me. “You can both get a good night’s sleep. If you still want to leave in the morning, I’ll give you the keys to the beach house.”

Diane looks at me, shrugs.

“I want you to be sure,” Doug says. “Because once you run, you’ll have to keep running.”

I turn to Diane. “What do you think?”

She takes the washcloth from me, touches it against my forehead, and says, “I think he’s right.”

Doug leads us back to a spare room and turns on the overhead light. “Bathroom’s across the hall. You already know where to find towels.” He points over his shoulder. “My room is down there if you need me. Get some rest, we’ll talk in the morning.”

We thank him and close the door. There is a double bed against one wall and a rocking chair in the corner. The room is filled with cardboard moving boxes and stacks of literary journals and magazines.

I sit on the edge of the bed and ease back.

“Are you okay?” Diane asks.

“Sore, but I’ll make it.”

Diane climbs onto the bed and lies next to me. “Take a hot bath, it’ll help.”

I tell her I might, but I don’t move.

“Do you think what he said is true? That once we run, we’ll have to keep running?”

“Probably.”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“What if we talk to the police?” She props up on one elbow and looks at me. “I heard what Doug said, and I think he’s right. Maybe you should answer their questions. They can’t charge you with something you didn’t do.”

I laugh. “Even if that were true, what would we do? Go back to our old life? I start teaching again, you go back to the gallery? Do you see that happening after all this?”

“It could.”

I shake my head. “That life is over.”

Neither of us says anything else.

Diane watches me for a while longer, and then she lies back on the bed. A few minutes later, I hear her crying, soft and quiet.

I roll over and try to sleep.