Disco Bomb

FINALE

May 19th, 2017. 11:30 PM

Everything had worked out great. Bruce Dane was dead. Bailey Sykes had broken a leg after jumping out the window, making it easy for two security guards to catch him. And the best part of all? An ambulance had arrived just in time to save Jack's life.

Now I was sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, retelling everything. I took great joy in saying that despite the intelligence they'd displayed while blowing up the city, Dane and Sykes had lost it in the end.

Jack nodded. "So Sykes is imprisoned for life. I get that. But Dane is really dead? You can guarantee he won't be coming back months later to haunt us?"

"I'm absolutely sure," I said. "I shot him myself. He was completely fried. One of the doctors on site even said there was no coming back from that." I sighed. "So how are you feeling?"

"Alive." He fingered the plastic tubing that stretched across his face and into his nose. "I've forgotten how uncomfortable these are."

"Try remembering how uncomfortable not breathing is."

"Oh, I feel so much better now." He chuckled. "I honestly don't remember much. Nothing after you kissing me."

I tilted my head to the side in confusion and concern. "You don't remember us making out in the ambulance?"

Jack's jaw hung open and he stared at me with wide eyes. I returned his stare with a completely serious expression.

For three seconds.

Then I burst into laughter. "I'm kidding, Jack. We didn't." I clutched my sides. "You were unconscious the whole ride through. Besides... the nurse was there. And Brandon." I wiped a tear from my eye and forced myself to stop laughing.

"Oh." Jack smirked. "I was gonna ask if you were really that bad."

"Liar." We both burst into laughter again.



Alexandra Dane watched the two from across the hall, laughing and smiling like they hadn't killed Bruce three hours ago. Her little brother, who told jokes all the time, who threw her the most amazing party when her boyfriend dumped her, who had the money and the brains to accomplish anything.

Now he was gone. They'd killed him. And now they were laughing about it?

Alex tightened her ponytail and the already grim expression on her face. She'd known of Bruce's plans at the Plaza tonight. She knew that something had gone wrong, so she stole a nurse's outfit when the ambulance was called. She'd even helped with the Chief, even rode in the ambulance with the three of them to find out what happened.

Now she wished she'd put cyanide in his IV drip instead.

Alex pulled the picture from her pocket again. It was taken when she was five and he was three. Christmas, in front of the little playhouse in the backyard of the house they'd grown up in. She was squatting down in a red dress while he stood next to her in a red plaid shirt and black pants, the two of them holding hands and grinning.

She kissed the picture. "I'll avenge you, little brother."