A young man wakes up in the desert. The wreckage of an ambulance lies smashed against a boulder and charred to a crisp. By the stitches on his head and face, he assumes he was the patient. But why was an ambulance driving through a desert? Where wa...
The fire had already begun to spread throughout the desktop when Light heard the lock in the door flicking, followed by the entrance opening. For a moment, she thought it might be Skyler; who else could have a house key? she thought. The drive to pull off her hood and polar neck as she retraced her steps swiftly was about to gel when, as she rushed down the stairs, she realized it was his neighbor, Reed Clayton. That new uncertainty made her remember there could still be cameras in the house. eEven with her face partly covered, Clayton still discerned the accentuated blue in her eyes.
"Ericka?" he asked with a visible sense of incomprehension.
"R...Reed?"
"What the hell are you wearing?"
She tried to look around in search of any hint, only to meet the dog's rattled gaze from the couch.
"I'm...I'm just cold; women and men have different temperatures, you know."
Ace lifted his snout and sniffed the air, searching for the new aroma that caught his attention. The smell of burning cellulose. Reed noticed that detail.
"Is everything all right?"
"Of course, it's just that...You must be bringing cat smell with you."
"I don't mean the dog; I'm talking about you. You look rattled."
Even Light knew that was one of the worst performances a person could make in one of the most bizarre situations any human could experience. And the worst thing was that she knew Clayton knew. Even more so when the dog scuttled instinctively upstairs and Light immediately screeched, "Ace, ostanovis." That phrase seemed to trigger in Clayton the suspicion that Ericka Light was keeping a dark secret, and the black smoke that oozed out through the ceiling confirmed that suspicion, like a paperweight falling on a file before a notary public. Clayton walked towards her in a new, unrelenting pattern. She froze. She knew she had to draw the gun, but she froze, even though she couldn't afford to die. But he walked past her, dashing upstairs to the source of the smoke. Light felt compelled to follow him as quickly as she could. For the first time, she could tell he had a gun on him when she looked at his back. Her freezing instinct had definitely been right. He was no regular neighbor.
She knew what was coming next, and she knew it was inevitable. Thus, as soon as Clayton opened the office door, and his eyes got lost in the impending hell, she reached into her jacket for Colt's gun and took the safety off. This time, she could. She took it as a second chance. Maybe the last fighting one. gRight before pulling the trigger, she tried to convince herself it was Skyler, the idea of protecting him that would kill this man, but when she released a burst of three shots into his back, she realized it had been her. And she didn't care at all.
Clayton fell into the interior of the room, first sticking his knees on the floor and then dropping the rest of the body, as though his bones were made from oak. He did not say a single word, nor did he issue any moan. hEricka realized the man had been trained to die.
"Reed? Reed, are you there?" asked the radio in Clayton's pocket. Light could tell immediately it was Page's voice. How many more neighbors were in league with all this? Maybe the house was surrounded. Maybe there was no escape. If she wanted to have a chance at getting away, she had to get back to the car. She thought of waiting for Page to come inside while she escaped through the back door and circled around the house, but then she heard Ace galloping towards the entrance and head-butting the half-open door.
"Ace?" uttered the radio between startled growls.
The dog had gone out to ask Page for help to put out the fire. And she knew that meant Page had deduced that, judging by Ace not harassing whoever was in the house, he or she was no stranger to his eyes. Maybe that fact had eased Roland's mood, and perhaps even his willingness to use his gun. In any case, she had no choice but to show herself as Ericka again. Maybe she could use that to talk her way out of here. But then again, leaving the crime scene with a witness to her identity would be nothing short of a time-delayed suicide. She realized, she knew, that for Skyler's sake and her own, Page could not live. Maybe he deserved death for being a spy.
The river had been crossed; the abyss was gazing back at her. As she rushed down the stairs, she reached into her still-closed hood and pulled a few locks of hair out for Page to see. The threshold had been fully opened by Ace. She made eye contact with Clayton, walking down the stony path towards the door. She toned down her pacing to not look like a threat as she walked outside.
"E... Ericka?" Roland asked, scanning both her outfit and the backpack full of correspondence she carried.
She knew his guard was down. Just for a moment. The fighting chance was not over. But it would be if she did nothing. She didn't bother to answer him and further confuse him. She thought she owed him that. Instead, she pulled out her gun. By the time Page lifted his Bauer Automatic, two bullets chucked directly through his neck, one of them embedding into his spine. Just before collapsing, he pulled the trigger by instinct one last time, shooting with his eyes closed. The bullet reached her left arm, entering through her biceps and coming cleanly out from her triceps. And to her surprise, she felt nothing. And nothing mattered from that moment on. Ace was barking in terror, but she did not hear him, nor did she hear herself giving him another order to follow her. She looked down. Her right hand was rolling up her sleeve to the height of the wound to contain the bleeding. Indeed, no pain. She looked up ahead, finding herself in the car, the backpack on the ground, the dog on the passenger seat, her hand turning the key for her. She breathed, aware that the path now opened wide. The next step was up to her. Completely up to her. With no more time or blood to lose, she drove the car away from there, heading for any refuge anywhere, and with the cold twisted conviction that this was the end of it all. And the beginning.
*****
She flipped the lighter, stroking its rusty back with the tip of her thumb as the moon pulled sharp glints of silver from its edges and highlighted the hollow shadows from its forged registration.
DIEGO LEVY
How many times had she already read it? How many times had she thought she recognized that name?
She lifted her gaze. Atticus was gone, the lights of the mansion were already off, and she was alone, abandoned in the darkness of the garden. It was time to go to sleep.
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