FLYING | Sequel of FALLEN (NaNoWriMo 2022 WINNER)

EPILOGUE

In the small window of clarity I find in myself, thinking about Marcel, I decide to hold strong. I decide to be who I have worked so hard to become. I fight for me, and for Marcel.

So when the door opens, and I hear someone step inside, I jump on the person, my hands to their neck as only weapon. The man collapses loudly on the floor with me on top of him, restraining him the best I can, straddling his chest.

I look around me to see what the situation is, adrenaline pumping in my veins. Simon's partner is in the door frame at the other end of the room, bloody, clearly shot. But I don't care, I look for my brother.

I hear his moan before I see him, he is behind me, against the wall of the closet I just came out of. He's been shot in the side. I panic at the sight of him, but the man between my legs moves. I give him all my attention. He is well dressed, a bodyguard kind of look. Old, not that old, but older than my dad. He looks around, trying to find something to fight me off. I notice his gaze going to his gun a foot from me. I lean and take it in my hands. I put it to his head.

"Grace?" I hear my brother wince behind me. "Don't do it."

"He shot you."

"If you pull that trigger you are no worse than them. Don't..."

"Simon?! Simon! Stay with me. Josh! Come put pressure on his wound."

I look up when I hear Simon's partner's voice, holding weakly his radio to call the dispatch. Thoughts run wild into my head, losing my mind over the blood leaking out of my brother and the dark revenge I want to do.

"You have your cellphone with you Josh?" I ask him, knowing full well that's how we were traced.

"Yes, why?" He responds, and I don't bother lecturing him. I didn't even think to check if he had it with him. I use this situation to our advantage instead. "Call your boss, right now."

He unlocks his phone and clicks on his previous call. It rings a couple of times, fearing that court has begun and that he won't check his phone. But he answers.

"Josh? We are about to proceed with Grace's testimony. Where is she?"

"Grace, here." I let out, both my hands holding the gun strongly to the hitman's head, my fat thighs holding his arms to his side with no possibility to move. "We've been hit. Two policemen are down. I can't testify, but I can make the responsible talk. I'll send you the audio once it's done. Convict that son of a bitch."

I signed Josh to hang up. He immediately puts the dictaphone on, so that my attention doesn't waver.

"I don't know who you are, and I don't care. If I have to repeat my questions twice without an answer, I'll shoot one of your limbs until you beg me to kill you. Is that clear?"

I look at him, dead in the eyes, but I feel nothing, I see nothing, and I know this will take a lot out of me. The hitman doesn't respond. I have never been as disgusted to look into blue eyes like I am at this very moment.

"Is that clear?!" I repeat and guide the gun to his shoulder, my face clear of emotions.

"Yes." I hear his response with a foreign accent.

"Are you Icelandic?"

"Yes."

"Do you work for Kristofer Alexander?" I get no response. I swallow and sigh. I cock the gun with my thumb and ask the question again. "Do you work for Kristofer Alexander?"

"Yes..."

"And what were you sent here to do?"

"To kill you and any witness."

"Thank you for your honesty." I respond with a low voice. I return the gun to his head and put a finger on the trigger. "Do you know who killed Andrew Wright, twelve years ago, on Valentine's Day?"

"No..."

"Somehow, I feel like you're lying."

"Don't know his name."

"But you do know who..."

"The man is in jail already."

"For what?"

"I don't know..."

"Remember."

"I don't know!"

"I'll make you remember." I let out and put the gun to his shoulder again, looking at his limb and not his eyes for the first time, getting ready to shoot.

"OK, OK, now I remember. He stole from Alexander."

"Mister Alexander incarcerated his own hitman? Aren't you scared he would turn on you too?"

"I don't care. He promised money to save my daughter. Save my daughter is most important."

"What's wrong with her?"

"She sick. Dying."

"Where did he recruit you?"

"We all work for MATTER in Reykjavik."

"Josh? If he agrees to talk and expose Kristofer Alexander, do you think we can make a deal with the Crown?"

"A deal, maybe, but he won't walk free, Grace." Josh argues, still holding my brother's wound strongly.

"The more he talks, the better the deal becomes. He could be the key to all this." I let out to the lawyer before my attention comes back to the hitman. "I think your daughter would prefer to have you alive with her than to know you are spending the rest of your life behind bars not able to visit her when she will need you most. My husband lost his father, and he hasn't recovered from it even after twelve years. Don't keep your daughter from her father. Cooperate."

"He kills all family if I talk." The man responds slowly, choking under my weight on his chest.

"If you talk, he will lose everything. He won't have anything to come against you."

"OK, I talk." He responds and everything inside of me sighs.

I command Josh to end the dictaphone and send it to his boss immediately. We all hold our positions until the emergencies arrive. Being shot in the leg, a major blood vessel presumably ruptured, Simon's partner goes in the first ambulance. Police take over the gun in my hands and the criminal under me. I tell them quickly our deal, and rush to my brother, who is taken away in the second ambulance. I hop on board with him and hold his hand firmly. Leaving the house, I see the body of a second hitman on the floor. Dead. Shot by Simon's partner. Josh follows behind, reassuring me he's going to take care of everything.

It worries me that Simon doesn't manage to keep his eyes open for the whole ride to the hospital. The only thing keeping me from panicking is the steady, but weak, heartbeat on the monitor. As soon as we get to the hospital, he is rushed into surgery, and I'm by myself to deal with everything that happened today.

I take a seat in the waiting room and I take a moment to look at myself. I still have my brother's bulletproof vest on. It's covered in his blood. If he had kept it, we wouldn't be here right now. It makes me regret taking it in the first place. I repeat the guilt for long minutes until I realise that if I hadn't had that vest, I wouldn't have charged on the man and we would all have died, defeated from the power of the gun he held. The bulletproof vest is the token of my brother's trust in me, and the reason for his sacrifice.

I fought because of Simon.

I fought to stay alive.

I fought for the truth.

I fought for myself.

And I fought for my future. A future with Marcel. A future for my new family.

I take the burner phone in my hand, and dial the last number. He picks up after two rings.

"Grace?"

"Get the Cherokee ready, baby. It's over. I'm coming home to you."