The Millionaires

84

“Charlie…? Charlie, where are you?” Gillian whispered as she cut through the utility closet and stepped into the perpendicular hallway that connected to it. Kicking aside the Goofy head, she surveyed the hall and shoved her way past the knocked-over folding table. On her far left was the door that led outside. Not a chance, she thought. DeSanctis wouldn’t leave without telling them. A sharp scratching sound confirmed the rest. She spun around and followed the noise. Toward the back – beyond the laundry cart and the folding screen. She knew that one. Like someone running. Or hiding.

Scrambling up the hall, she kept an eye out for DeSanctis. He was still pissed about the blender to the head – but not enough to ruin it all, she decided as she slid past the folding screen. Still, better to stay quiet and figure out the lay of the-

Gillian stopped right there. From the floor to the tops of the costume racks, Minnie, Donald, Pluto, and dozens of other character heads stared back at her, each one with its own empty, frozen smile. Purposefully avoiding their glare, she cautiously stepped deeper into the room. “Hello…” she whispered again. “Anyone there?”

Again, no one answered. And then she realized why.

Straight ahead, at the end of the first aisle of costume racks, DeSanctis was facedown on the floor, his arms tied behind his back with what looked like a jump rope. Gillian couldn’t believe it. His nose was covered in blood; his left eye was swollen shut. He wasn’t moving. She nudged his shoulder with her foot, but it was like kicking a brick. Surprised, she squatted down for a better look. Was he -? No, she realized as she saw his chest rise and fall. Just unconscious.

There was another noise, this one from a few aisles over. Jarred by the sound, Gillian shot straight to her feet. But as she heard it again, she cracked a small grin. This sound was different than the first. Deeper. More guttural. Like someone breathing… or panting. Someone out of breath.

She glanced around and made her way across the back of the aisle. “Charlie!” she called out. “It’s me – it’s Gillian!”

The breathing stopped.

“Charlie – are you there!?”

Still no response.

She crossed over to the next aisle of costumes, then the next. Except for the colorful sequined outfits and a set of Chip ’n Dale costume heads, both aisles were empty.

“Charlie, I know you heard the gunshots – Oliver’s been hit!”

Again, nothing.

“He’s been shot, Charlie! He hit Gallo, and Gallo shot him in the thigh – if we don’t get him to a doctor -!”

“Gillian, this better not be bullshit,” a voice warned behind her.

She wheeled around as Charlie stepped out from the aisle she just passed. He held the broom in his right hand, and while he tried to put on a strong face, he was clearly wheezing with each breath. Between the running and the fighting, it was all too much. “Are you okay?” she asked.

He studied her carefully. Her hands were empty. Nothing out of place. “Just show me where Ollie is,” Charlie demanded. Turning his back to Gillian, he headed for the door – but before he could take a single step – there was a muffled click behind him.

Charlie froze mid-step.

“Sorry,” Gillian said as she aimed her gun behind him. “That’s what you get for trusting strangers.”

Refusing to face her, Charlie closed his eyes. He wasn’t going down without a fight. His fingers tightened around the broom – and Gillian’s tightened around the trigger. Charlie spun around as fast as he could. He wasn’t nearly fast enough.