by James Bee
“Surrender like Juni did? Eh? I’m not putting my life in their hands. Not ever again,” Hank said. Jason just stared at his friend, speechless. What the hell was he talking about? Hank’s sock and my knuckle dusters against the full might of the VPD. He’s gonna get us killed.
“It’s suicide. You have to know that, man. We can’t win,” Jason pleaded.
“You don’t know that. We just have to get one. Wrestle their gun away, and we’ll be fine.”
“But-but. Then we’ll just be doing what they think. We’re not like this any more, Hank. We’re supposed to be reformed, rehabilitated. If we do this, they’ll never see us as anything else,” Jason said.
“Are we? Do you think they care? They’re gonna come through this barricade looking for our blood. We’re already guilty, don’t you know, Jase? Everything else is just a formality. I’d rather go down fighting than just wait for them to plug me,” Hank said, swinging the sock around experimentally. Jason could hear the metal locks clanging around inside. I made that. Whatever happens will be my fault. Jason stood, frozen, unsure of what he should do. Did he leave? Go hide in one of the rooms. Leave Hank alone to his fate. Maybe after they killed him, they would think it was over. That he and Robbie were just trying to survive from Hank. That Hank had killed everyone. Which he may have done. The thought crept into Jason’s head. Maybe Robbie was right. Maybe Hank had killed, Mia, Billy, Stu, and Mac. Maybe he was driven mad by the guilt. Maybe he didn’t want to be alive to be put on trial, to have to live with what he’d done.
“You don’t have to stay,” Hank said quietly.
“What?”
“I said you don’t have to—” Hank’s words were drowned out by the world exploding. Shards of wood and plaster filled the hallway, blowing past him and into his eyes. Jason’s ears rang as he fell to one knee. The whole world was spinning, dust obscuring his vision. Jason fought back to his feet. The hell was that? he thought sluggishly, trying to see through the haze. Taking two steps forward, he tripped on a piece of debris. So much for the barricade. Oh. The barricade. Panic slowly filtered into him as the dust began to clear. Just ahead, everything was suddenly moving in slow motion.
Hank was on the ground, holding his head. A figure was moving toward him, almost completely obscured. The apparition had something in its hand, holding and pointing it at Hank. Jason didn’t need to see it to know what it was. He felt as though he was moving through sand. The figure was almost on top of Hank. He’s going to shoot him. It wasn’t a guess. Somehow, Jason was certain. The figure walked through the dust and came into view. It was a policeman, face obscured by goggles and a mask. He had only just begun to bring his gun around when Jason’s fist connected with his face. The metal impacted with a sickening crunch. The police officer reeled backward. Jason didn’t bother watching him fall; his attention was focused elsewhere. On the two other men stepping into the hallway. Fuck, Jason thought as they raised their guns. They were too far away; he wouldn’t get within three feet before they filled him full of lead. He didn’t have a chance. Not a chance in in the whole world.
But Hank did. The sock collided with the leg of one of the men, making him stumble. Hank grabbed the man, grappling him to the floor. The other officer paused, but only for a moment. The gunshot was deafening in the confined space. Jason felt the impact in his side, sending him down. The officer then turned to where the two men were still struggling on the floor. Helpless, Jason watched his gun slowly aim downward. He was going to shoot Hank, and there was nothing he could do to stop him.
Then Robbie burst from his room. NO! Jason thought as the younger man rushed the third officer, who stumbled backward. Robbie closed the gap, too quickly for him to react. He slashed with the comb. The razor blades did their work well, drawing blood. The officer fell back, clutching his face. Robbie’s foot followed him down, slamming into his face. The officer collapsed, senseless. Robbie spun back around, eyes wide. Jason opened his mouth, but only a croak came out. He struggled to get to his feet, but the blood on the floor was making him slip. His blood.
On the floor, Hank lost his wrestling match. The officer head-butted him in the face, wrenching the gun free. He aimed it at Hank’s head, but before he could pull the trigger, Robbie’s comb slashed across his neck. The gun fell from senseless fingers, and Hank snatched it up. Jason’s ears were ringing; he couldn’t hear anything. Neither could the others, and the fourth officer stepped over the wreckage unnoticed.
Robbie stumbled as the bullets tore into him. His face didn’t show any pain, only surprise. Jason watched him fall, stunned. Hank, however, reacted. His aim was true, and the officer fell back the way he came. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“What? What did you do?” Jason croaked, standing. As the ringing from the gunshots died away, shouts floated up the stairs. Two of the policemen were still alive, rolling and bleeding on the floor.
“We gotta go. Now!” Hank said, rolling to his feet.
“But Robbie…”
“He’s gone Jase, he’s gone,” Hank said. He was fishing around in one of the officers’ pockets, eventually pulling free a spare clip. Jason could see that Hank was right. Robbie wasn’t moving, his eyes glassy. Why? Why didn’t you hide? Then I would be dead and you would still be alive. That’s the way it should have happened.
“Come on, Jase,” Hank said, grabbing his arm and pulling him through the staircase. “Go on. Up! Get ready to pull the door closed behind me.” Jason stumbled up the stairs, grasping at the walls, holding his side. He felt off-balance, wrong. A trio of gunshots rang out behind him. Hank! Jason made it to the top of the stairs, wrenching the door open. Spinning around, he grasped the side of the door, ready to slam it shut. One heartbeat went by. Then another, and another. Jason couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his heart slamming in his chest. Someone was going to come around the corner, either Hank or the police. I could just shut it now. Hank and Robbie got killed, I didn’t. I could just close this door and hide. Jason’s arm tensed as he prepared to close it.
Hank’s face appeared around the corner, flushed and beet-red. “Close it, close it!” Jason slammed the heavy door behind his friend and pulled the lock bar down. Leaning his back up against the door, Jason locked eyes with Hank. A look passed between them, one that needed no words. There was nowhere left to go. They were trapped, and there would be no mercy now. Not for them.
27
Chapter 27
“Fuck, man. What the hell?” Jason said. He collapsed to the ground. Blood was oozing out of his side, and the pain was starting to outpace the adrenalin and the alcohol.
“They were gonna kill us, Jase. We fought back. That’s what happened,” Hank said.
“I just reacted. I just moved and hit him. I didn’t think.”
“I saw that. He went down like a sack of fuckin’ potatoes,” Hank said, grinning crazily. “Then Robbie came out like a goddamn madman. Put one down and saved me from the other. Didn’t deserve to die like that.”
“No. He didn’t. He should have stayed hidden, let us die. His life was worth more than ours,” Jason said, wincing as he pulled his shirt off. Hank came over to help, ripping a strip off and tying it tight around his side. It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it would keep him alive for a few more hours. Long enough for the police to get their revenge.
“He made his choice. Let’s not let him die in vain,” Hank said, looking around.
“What can we do? We’re trapped in here. We just killed two police, maimed two more. If we don’t make it out of here in body bags, we’ll never see the outside again. They’ll toss us behind bars for the rest of our lives. It’s over, Hank. It’s over. I don’t even care about us anymore. Juni and Robbie are gone. Mia’s dead. Shit, even Mac and Stu are dead. Who killed them? Why? You gotta tell me, Hank. Just tell me. Was it you? Was it?” Jason demanded.
Hank took a step backward, staring at him. “How can you even ask me that, man?”
“I just watched you shoot that guy. You d
idn’t hesitate, you just killed him. Maybe you had been practicing on the rest of us. Maybe by the time the police bust down this door I’ll already be dead. Eh? Did you leave me for last?” Jason said, his voice rising to a yell.
“Fuck you, man. Fuck you. Maybe you did some of them. You and Robbie could have been working together. Trying to frame me and Mac,” Hank said, though the accusation had more desperation than teeth.
“That doesn’t even make sense. None of this makes sense. I can hear voices in my head. I know you can too. Mac and Stu both went crazy. Something made them lose it. At the same time everyone is dying, just like how they killed. Something is happening, but I don’t know what it is. I don’t want to believe that you’ve been killing everyone, but what else can I think? That ghosts are murdering everyone?”
Hank spread his arms wide. “Shit, Jase, I don’t know. The voices are getting louder; they’ve been that way for hours. I can barely hear myself think. That’s not it, though. The louder they get, the better I feel. Like I’m getting younger. My back isn’t stiff, I can bend my knees more than yesterday. And with the cop. I haven’t shot a gun in thirty years. I used to practice everyday. Shooting targets. I was good. Real good, Jase. I wasted that cop without even having to aim. My body just moved. Shooting a gun ain’t like riding a bike, man. You gotta work at it. You gotta practice. I shouldn’t have been able to do that. I didn’t even think. Felt like I was back on the streets.”
“I know how you feel,” Jason said in a small voice. “I work out every day, every damn day. Just to feel normal. Used to be if I worked out I’d get bigger, stronger, faster. Now it’s all I can do to keep up to stave off getting old. Wasn’t enough, though. Every morning it seemed that I woke up stiffer and weaker than the day before. That it look me longer to loosen up. Not any more, though. I feel … strong. Young, like you said. I hit that dude so hard. So fuckin’ hard. How? It doesn’t make any sense. I feel like I could run ten miles, easy. Twenty years of getting drunk and fighting. It destroyed my body, poisoned it. Now it feels like all of that has fallen away. What’s happening to us, Hank? What the hell is going on?” Jason shook his bottle, which was now half empty. How it had made the trip up the stairs, he had no clue. Not that he was complaining; it was helping dull the pain. “I haven’t drank for so long. My tolerance should be wrecked, but it isn’t. This should have put me on my ass, but I feel fine. Just buzzed.”
Hank shook his head. “I don’t know. There’s too much going on that we just don’t know about. I didn’t kill anyone, Jase. You gotta believe me. No one else is going to. They’ll lay their bodies down at my feet and call me a mass murderer. I killed that cop. I shot him dead. Didn’t want to do it, but I did. He killed Robbie, and he would have killed us too. It was self-defence. Don’t mean I killed anyone else.”
“Then who? Someone did. Who? There isn’t anyone else in here with us. Just us now. Just us.”
“I don’t know! Maybe Mac was right. Maybe our ghosts really have come back to haunt us. To punish us for our sins, to absolve us of our guilt by doing unto us what we have done,” Hank said, eyes wide and wild.
“That’s crazy, talk man. Don’t fuckin’ lose it on me, Hank. Not now. Not while we’re trapped,” Jason said.
“Why not? Now seems like the goddamn perfect time to lose my head. Not like I’m gonna get another chance. Voices in my head, smells I can’t escape from. It’s all too much, man. I just want to get out. To escape. Shit, maybe it would be better to just go out. To take this gun and try to shoot myself free. Better that than just sitting in there, waiting to die. Like a caged rat.”
Jason grabbed Hank’s arm as he tried to walk by, making the pain in his side flare angrily.
“Suicide by cop? That’s not you. No more killing, no more fighting. Do you want your last moments on this Earth to be like that? Angry and trying to hurt people? What would Mia think if she saw you like this? Huh?”
“Fuck you.” Hank slammed the butt of his pistol into Jason’s face. Jason collapsed backward, stunned more by shock than pain. His arms went up to fend off any further attacks, but none came.
“Shit. Shit. Sorry, man. I didn’t mean it.” Hank put the gun in his pocket and leaned down, offering his hand. Jason pushed it away and got to his feet. “I don’t know what’s come over me lately. All the old anger, all the recklessness is back. I thought it was buried. Gone. But it’s not. I guess I was just ignoring it.”
“You’ve changed, Hank. This isn’t you. This isn’t the man that I knew. That I looked up to,” Jason said. Blood was dribbling out of his nose, and he wiped it away. Hank had hit him. Hard. He should feel betrayed, hurt. But he didn’t. All he felt was anger. Anger and a need for retribution, to get back at Hank. He’d dared to hit him. No one hit him and kept all of their teeth. If he didn’t do something, Hank would think that he was weak. That he could walk all over him. There had to be consequences. He should blast Hank and take the gun from him.
“You don’t know me, Jason. Not really. Six months isn’t long enough. Maybe this is who I am, who I always was. Everything else is just pretend, wishful thinking,” Hank said.
“So what? All this was a lie? All the talk about a new life, about moving on. It was all bullshit? How can you say that?”
Hank held up his hands and stepped backward. “I’m not saying that it is, for other people maybe. But for us? We’re killers. Murderers. How can we change? Move on and live our lives?”
“Stop saying that! I’m not a killer. I’m not. I never meant to do it. It was just bad luck, you said so yourself. You killed that cop down there. You shot him. That was you. Maybe you killed the others, and maybe you didn’t. I don’t know. All I know is that me and you are different. I’m not like you,” Jason said.
“Oh, no?” Hank took a step toward him. “You think you’re better than me, is that it? That I’m some monster and you’re just poor, misunderstood, unlucky Jason? That’s bullshit. I never liked to hurt people. You did. How many fights did you get in, huh? Can you even count that high? You hated all of them? Hated the feeling of punching someone out, of your fist connecting with their jaws. No. You loved it. Every time. You loved hurting other people. Loved the power that came with it. Go ahead, deny it. Tell me how we’re different.” Hank was too close now, only a couple of feet away.
“Stay away from me,” Jason said. The anger was rising, taking hold of him, pushing away his pain. No one disrespected him like that. Especially not some old man. That’s not some old man, that’s Hank, a small voice inside of Jason said. He ignored it.
“I’m not scared of you, Jase. I’m not some prison yard punk. I’ve known men like you my whole life,” Hank said.
“I’m not asking you to be scared of me. I’m telling you to get away from me,” Jason said. He was just barely holding on to his temper. Any more provocation and he wouldn’t be able to keep it back anymore.
Hank sighed. “I’m sorry. I just keep saying things. I didn’t mean it. You’re not like me, Jase. I’ve killed and had a clear mind while doing it. I don’t regret that cop. He killed Robbie. The one you hit would have executed me. We did the right thing in fighting back. Bought us some more time, at least. Time enough until they figure out how to break that monster down,” Hank said, gesturing to the door. It looked as formidable as always, heavy steel and thick bolts.
“What do you think they used to keep in here? Why would they need a door this thick? Inside the building? What could they be keeping in? Or out, I suppose,” Jason said, eager to change the subject. He and Hank were heading for a confrontation; he could feel it. It was inevitable.
“Ghosts, maybe,” Hank said with a wry smile.
“Naw, I reckon any ghosts that are chasing us we brought in ourselves,” Jason said.
“You think he might have been right? Mac, I mean?” Hank asked, voice low.
“About our ghosts coming back to get us? Can’t say that I do. He wasn’t exactly in the most stable frame of mind, Hank. He was pretty fuckin’ nut
s, actually.”
“Well, how sane would you have seemed if you had been fighting ghosts from your past?” Hank demanded.
“Fair point. Fair point. I don’t know, man. I don’t want to believe it. Would mean that our situation is even more fucked-up than it looks right now. Cops out there, trying to kill us. We’re stuck in here with a bunch of murderous spirits or something. Hell, man. I don’t want to think that’s true,” Jason said.
“Yeah, I can get that. It’s just there’s so much weird shit happening, you know? The way everyone’s been dying. I think it has to do with guilt, maybe.”
“What do you mean?” Jason asked.
Hank shrugged and leaned against the wall. “I mean, maybe it’s what we’re most guilty about that’s coming back to haunt us. They say guilt can drive people to do insane things. There’s songs about it, lots of them. Maybe that’s what’s been going on. Everyone here carries guilt. Maybe it just got too much for them,” Hank said.
“And they started just killing themselves?”
“The voices, Jase. Think about the voices. We are both hearing them. Mac and Stu both heard them. Billy also. It has to mean something. But what? What could it be? I’ve taken a lot of drugs, pretty much all of them, but I’ve never experienced anything like this. Have you?”
Jason shook his head. He’d heard of people going crazy and hearing voices, everyone had. But to experience it first-hand was different. It felt so real. “Exactly. Not like this. It has to be something else.”
“Maybe it’s something in the walls, like a chemical. Or a gas leak. Would explain how it’s all happening to all of us. Maybe it happened to Kenneth, too, that’s why he locked us in here,” Jason said. He’d heard of it happening before, people slowly losing their minds only to discover that their house was full of a toxic gas.