Beautiful Lies

thirty-five

“Six,” he whispers.

“What?”

“You have six bullets left.”

I nod to him and keep my eyes on the staircase. I’ve heard Zack’s voice, so I know he’s one of the men coming after us, and I just can’t get my head around this. He would kill us to keep his secret, then pretend to grieve at my funeral. This is the man my father wanted me to marry. My hands are shaking with pain and fear and rage. White lights have started to dance in front of my vision.

“We can make this right,” he calls, though I still can’t see him. I know they’re close; I can hear the stairs groaning. At the instant I see a leg, I fire and miss. The sound is so loud and the kickback so powerful that I let out a little scream of terror. My ears are ringing. When I look back, the leg is gone. Maybe I can hold them at bay for a while like this. Now there are five bullets and four men.

“Don’t waste the bullets on impossible shots,” Jake whispers. “Wait until you can shoot center mass. You’ll never hit otherwise.” I look over at him. He’s lying so still it seems as if he can’t move, and I can see he’s in so much pain.

“Ridley, please,” calls Zack. “It doesn’t have to end this way. My offer stands. You loved me once. Can’t you trust me now?”

I look at Jake and he looks at me. Jake puts a finger to his lips and points up. I can see the men above us with their guns pointed down. Zack is just trying to get me to talk so that the men know where to fire. I smile grimly and stay silent.

“Fuck it,” Zack says finally.

When they start shooting, I fire back. Their shots spit and bounce off the walls around us and one even hits the couch, but it doesn’t come through the frame. I keep waiting to feel metal pierce my skin. I can feel Jake trying to protect my body with his. The smell of gunpowder fills my nose, and my ears are ringing so loudly, everything else seems muffled. The situation takes on a nonreality and I am not as afraid as I should be. I think this must be what combat feels like, surreal, so terrifying that your mind’s ability to perceive danger and your capacity for fear diminish. With one of my shots, a man falls heavily to the floor with a groan, but there are three more and the shooting doesn’t seem to end. I aim with each remaining bullet as best I can, but soon the gun is empty and the other men are still firing on us. In the movies, I would have hit them all with my few bullets, but I learn that I’m not a very good shot. When the gun is empty, I drop it to the floor and cling to Jake, thinking we are going to die here tonight. And the one thing I can say for sure is that I don’t have any regrets. I’m glad he didn’t have to face this alone.

I close my eyes and think I’m dreaming when I hear the chopping blades of a helicopter and see the room flood with light.

“Drop your weapons!” roars the voice of God. “Get down on the ground and put your hands behind your heads.”

In the chaos of light and sound, the gunfire ceases. I can feel Jake’s arms strong around me, holding me.

“Ridley,” I hear God calling me. “Ridley Jones, are you okay? Are you down there?”

And from fear or pain or sheer relief everything goes black.