A Knock at the Door

by Ellis, T. W.

  Leo must sense this because he makes a gesture with his closest hand: a short horizontal swipe of his fingers. Over in an instant so Wilks doesn’t notice.

  Leo’s meaning is obvious: no.

  I want this over as soon as possible. I want this over now.

  I have the information in my pocket. Take it and go.

  It takes all my willpower not to say it. Wilks wouldn’t just take it and go, would she? She would take it and kill us all. She can’t escape with valuable secrets if we’re around to tell the tale. There has to be another way.

  I have to trust Leo. He knows what he’s doing.

  Or does he?

  There’s little evidence of that so far.

  He’s the one who’s got us into this hell in the first place. All this is his fault.

  It’s always been up to me to fix it.

  ‘I have the information in my pocket. Take it and go.’

  This time I say it for real.

  1:45 a.m.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Leo demands.

  I ignore him. I’m looking straight at Wilks.

  Wilks says, ‘Take it out. Let’s see it.’

  She’s sceptical, which makes sense. Why would I have it and not Leo? Which makes me wonder why I do have it and Leo doesn’t. I’m not going to get an answer here, now.

  I reach for my pocket.

  ‘Slow,’ Wilks says. ‘Nice and slow.’ She glances to Trevor. ‘Don’t want to provoke a negligent discharge, do we?’

  Trevor stays silent.

  Taking it slow, I push fingers into a pocket of my jeans.

  ‘Don’t,’ Leo says.

  My fingers close and grip and I begin to withdraw them.

  ‘She’ll kill us,’ Leo says.

  ‘Don’t listen to him,’ Wilks says. ‘We all want this to be over. This is the only way that’s going to happen.’

  Fingers clear of my pocket, I make a fist. Wilks gestures for me to come closer. She’s not prepared to come closer to us herself. I stay where I am.

  ‘Come on, Jem. Give me the information and we can all go back to our lives. That’s what you want to do, isn’t it? Go back to your life and pretend this never happened.’

  ‘Can’t quite do that, can I?’ I reply. ‘Not with a corpse in my hallway.’

  ‘You didn’t kill Messer,’ Wilks says. ‘When the crime scene report comes back the evidence will exonerate you. You’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘Then why do I feel like everything I could have done wrong today, I have?’

  Wilks doesn’t answer, but says, ‘Give me the information.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Leo says again.

  I ignore him. I step towards Wilks, one slow step at a time.

  ‘That’s it,’ Wilks encourages. ‘Just a few more steps.’

  I raise my fist, pull back my elbow, and throw.

  I throw above Wilks, and a muted clink, clink, tap sounds far behind her.

  Wilks’ face hardens. ‘What have you done?’

  1:47 a.m.

  I shrug, playing innocent. ‘I’ve given you the information. Only, you’ll have to go find it if you want it.’

  Wilks’ arm extends my way, the gun in her hand aimed at my face. ‘I should kill you.’

  ‘Kill me,’ I say, ‘and you have to kill those two too. Three gunshots, at a minimum. Bang. Bang. Bang. Loud. Obvious. And that’s assuming you can shoot. That’s assuming we all go down and stay down. Either way, gunshots are hard to miss and ignore even in this area. I’m sure you noticed plenty of businesses are still operating. I’m sure you know they’ve got private security patrols.’ I’m making that part up, but hopefully she doesn’t know for sure they don’t. ‘So, are you really prepared to risk it? Because after you’ve fired that gun you’re going to have to crawl around on your hands and knees for however long it takes you to find a piece of plastic the size of a thumbnail.’

  Wilks says nothing.

  ‘The one point in your favour is that this warehouse is pretty empty, but that’s still a whole lot of floor space to cover. All those shelves to look under. God, maybe it fell down that drain. There’s two questions you need to ask yourself: how long do you think it will take to find, and how long will it take for the police to show?’

  Wilks is raging in silence.

  ‘My bad,’ I continue. ‘It’s three questions.’

  I don’t elaborate.

  Wilks has no choice but to ask, ‘What’s the third?’

  ‘Is there a password?’

  Wilks steps towards me. ‘Well, is there?’

  ‘Only one way to find out.’

  She’s so angry she’s making herself sweat. There are little beads of perspiration along her hairline. It’s an impotent fury because despite the gun in her hand she is no longer in charge.

  Somehow, I’m the most powerful person in the room.

  Wilks’ jaw muscles are flexing so hard she’s going to start cracking teeth soon. ‘Okay.’

  It comes out more of a hiss than a word. I’m sure she’s never hated anyone in her life like she hates me right now.

  ‘Okay?’ I echo.

  ‘You win.’

  ‘I win? I’m not sure I’ve ever won anything before.’

  She nods. ‘Yes, you win, Jem. Because you’ve bought yourselves a reprieve. But that’s all, because no one is leaving here until I have that information. And if I don’t get it, none of you leave here. If I don’t get it, I’ll put a bullet in each of your heads and be gone before anyone even thinks to respond to the noise. Now, get on your hands and knees and find it for me.’

  Trevor says, ‘Don’t you ever get tired of being an a-hole?’

  Wilks waves the gun in Leo’s and Trevor’s direction. ‘You two as well. Get looking for my information.’

  ‘I have bad knees,’ Trevor says.

  ‘Knees are no good without a head.’

  Trevor shrugs. ‘Depends whose heads we’re talking about here.’

  Wilks isn’t amused. ‘Get busy looking or get busy dying.’

  She doesn’t yet realise her mistake and I’m certainly not going to be the one to tell her. I guessed she would order me to look for the lost SD card while she kept the gun trained on Leo and Trevor.

  Instead, Wilks has put us all to work.

  Due, no doubt, to Trevor’s provocation generating a reaction, a response. Had she taken the time to think things through Wilks might have understood it wasn’t the best thing to do. It’s not the smart thing to do because she now has three of us in different places to watch at the same time.

  Impossible.

  Thanks to Trevor, my idea is working even better than I could have hoped.

  Trevor is down on one knee, scouring the floor for the micro SD card. He’s not making a huge effort to find it, but he couldn’t even if he tried. Leo is nearby, on his stomach and reaching beneath one of the metal shelving units.

  He whispers to me, ‘Why did you offer her the information?’

  ‘We didn’t have a lot of options,’ I whisper back.

  Wilks is closer to Trevor, a little out of range to hear us. She’s pacing back and forth, restless and anxious. She knows the longer this goes on the worse it is for her. There’s not much she can do about it. My suggestion that uncommonly observant private security guards will be aware the second a gun goes off in their business park must be playing on her mind.

  I’ve bought us time.

  The longer this goes on, however, the more chance of Wilks growing some sense.

  We need to do something before we reach that stage.

  ‘She could have killed us all,’ Leo whispers. ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

  I try to whisper back but it’s not easy to control the volume of my voice given such provocation. ‘Don’t blame me for how I act in a mess you created.’ He’s silent. ‘Let’s figure out how to get out of this mess before Wilks realises I’ve fooled her.’

  ‘Excuse me, what? How have you fooled her?’


  I gesture to what we’re doing. ‘There’s nothing to find.’

  Leo is lost.

  I tap my pocket. ‘I’ve still got the information on me.’

  ‘What did you throw?’

  ‘A button.’

  Leo’s first reaction is surprise. He hadn’t even considered this as a possibility. Maybe I should be insulted by his lack of faith in me, but that’s for later. If there is a later. After surprise comes relief, then confusion. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Because your reaction needed to be genuine if Wilks was going to buy it.’

  He smiles a little despite the situation. ‘When did you get so good at this?’

  I exhale. ‘I’ve been going through a crash course all day long. Thanks to you.’

  His smile fades.

  ‘Move away from me,’ I tell him. ‘The further all three of us are apart the harder it is for Wilks to keep track of us. Whoever spots an opening has to take it, whatever it is.’

  He nods and is about to reply when Wilks notices us whispering.

  ‘Hey, stop talking.’ She comes closer. ‘Find those accounts. I don’t have all night.’

  Trevor says, ‘Then perhaps you should look yourself.’

  ‘Shut up, granddad.’

  Leo does as I suggested and starts searching elsewhere, increasing the gap between us while keeping his distance from Trevor too. Pretty soon I see that Wilks is really struggling to keep track of all of us. She’s having to constantly move, constantly turning her head. She’s getting frustrated, angry. I’ve witnessed her temper and see the signs of it spiralling out of control. If we don’t do something fast she’s going to herd us back together.

  ‘Found it,’ I call out to her.

  She hurries over to me. ‘Where?’

  ‘Under that shelving unit,’ I answer, pointing. ‘But my arms aren’t long enough to reach it.’

  In an ideal world she would try herself but she’s not dumb enough to do that. She does follow my finger with her gaze however, and in that moment of distraction I grab the gun with both hands.

  I’m nowhere near strong enough to wrestle it from her grip but that isn’t my plan – just to keep her occupied long enough for Leo to reach us.

  I’m weaker than I thought, or Wilks is stronger, because I hang on to the gun for the briefest of moments. She rips it free from my hands and shoves me away with so much force I hit the floor hard enough to cry out in pain.

  Leo gets to Wilks a split-second later and charges into her, catapulting her back into the metal shelving unit, which tips and almost falls with the impact.

  The gun is knocked from Wilks’ hand and clatters on the floor near to me, but before I can reach out my hand it skids beneath another unit.

  Leo is fit and in shape but Wilks is fast and skilled. She beats off his clumsy attempts to wrestle her and headbutts him, producing a gush of blood from his nose that splatters on the floor near me. Leo, dazed, tries to fight back until a second headbutt knocks him unconscious.

  ‘Nice try,’ Wilks says as she wipes Leo’s blood from her forehead.

  1:53 a.m.

  But it’s not over yet because Trevor, slow yet fearless, grabs Wilks from behind, wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug. Trevor’s not a small man. He may be old yet he’s old like a mountain, weathered and strong. Wilks can’t break that grip. She tries, grunting and roaring.

  I shake Leo. He’s groaning and otherwise unresponsive. He’s going to wake up far too late to help.

  The gun. I have to find it.

  I spin around on the spot, staring into the darkness, trying to think, trying to remember. Was the sound of it clattering on the floor close? Was it far?

  I remember. I saw the gun slide under a unit, but which one? There are so many. They all look alike.

  Wilks is powering backwards, forcing Trevor to do so as well, straining his hold, his balance. They collide into a shelving unit, Trevor taking the impact and cushioning it for Wilks. Trevor still doesn’t let go. I see the pain in his face and the determination to keep fighting despite it.

  His determination powers my own. I charge the shelving unit that I think stands over the gun.

  I throw myself against it, pushing, yelling.

  It tilts.

  Falls.

  A thunderous boom reverberates through the warehouse. So loud and unexpected that Wilks and Trevor stop fighting, if only for a second.

  I scan the floor by the shelving unit. No gun.

  I back up. Yell. Charge. Push.

  The next set of shelves tilts and falls, clangs and bangs and clatters on the floor.

  Wilks and Trevor continue wrestling.

  I’m panting, sweating, sore and grimacing from two hard collisions with metal shelving units. I back up further for the next one to compensate.

  I charge.

  It doesn’t tilt in the same way as the first two. I’m slower, weaker.

  I yell louder, push harder.

  The tilt comes, slow at first.

  I roar.

  It falls.

  I’m so weakened from the exertion I almost fall over with it.

  There, on the dusty floor, hidden until an instant ago, is the gun.

  Twenty-four hours earlier the mere sight of it would have scared me. I would have wanted nothing to do with it. Now, I have no fear of the weapon. It’s just a tool, a necessary tool to save the life of Trevor, my husband, and myself.

  I scoop it up off the floor without hesitation, turn to face Wilks.

  She’s on the floor now, having shaken free of Trevor’s hold. Trevor’s on his back, fighting to stop Wilks hitting him, strangling him … killing him.

  ‘Get off him.’ I scream.

  Wilks can’t fail to hear me, but she pays no attention. I’m no one. I’m no threat. I’m nothing to fear.

  I point the gun at the ceiling and squeeze the trigger.

  Bang.

  That gets Wilks’ undivided attention.

  ‘Get off him,’ I repeat. ‘Now.’

  Wilks obeys. She releases Trevor and climbs to her feet, hands rising.

  ‘Stay calm,’ she tells me. ‘Don’t do anything rash.’

  I laugh at her. ‘Calm? You’re telling me to stay calm and you don’t even have the good manners to do it in a sarcastic tone. Because, guess what, I’m not calm.’

  Wilks’ hands rise further.

  ‘I’m about the furthest possible point I can be from calm. I haven’t been calm since the moment you knocked on my door.’

  ‘We can work this out,’ Wilks says. ‘I’ll split the money.’

  ‘No way. We’re going to call the police and you’re going to be arrested and then charged and eventually convicted on multiple counts of attempted murder. Treason too, I’m guessing.’

  Trevor grunts as he hauls himself to his knees. ‘At the very least.’

  I glance his way. ‘Are you okay?’

  He isn’t. He’s exhausted and hurt and old.

  ‘Never felt better,’ he says.

  I smile. ‘Please tell me we’re going to stay friends after this, Trevor.’

  ‘People who get to spend any time with me eventually find me disagreeable.’

  ‘Just say yes,’ I tell him. ‘You don’t have to mean it. Just say yes for me.’

  He nods. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I turn my attention back to Wilks. ‘Bet you’re regretting ever showing up at my door, aren’t you?’

  Wilks is silent. Cowed. Beaten.

  ‘Trevor,’ I say, ‘could you do me the kind favour of heading to Leo’s office and calling Rusty?’

  Trevor hesitates. ‘It would be my pleasure, only I don’t think I can make it up those steps right now.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, of course. Come here and take this gun. Watch Special Agent Asshole for me, will you?’

  Trevor nods. ‘That I can do.’

  ‘And shoot her if she so much as looks at you funny.’

  ‘That I’d like to do.’


  He shuffles over, even slower than before. Limping. Bloody and tired.

  ‘Oh, Trevor,’ I say. ‘I’m so sorry I’ve put you through all of this.’

  He grumbles his unhappiness with my expression of sympathy and snatches the gun from my hand. ‘Go call Rusty.’

  I check on Leo first.

  ‘I’m okay,’ he says. His voice sounds weak. ‘I’ll be fine in a few minutes. Help me up.’

  ‘I need to call Rusty. I need to—’

  ‘Please,’ he says, taking hold of me to brace against. ‘Help me up.’

  I do. Not easy as he’s weak, but we manage it. He exhales. Takes a moment to find his balance.

  ‘You good?’ I ask.

  He nods and lets go of me. ‘See? All better.’

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ I tell him, heading for the stairs.

  ‘Sure,’ he says back.

  He approaches Trevor as I reach the steps and hurry up them.

  Leo reaches a hand out to Trevor. ‘Let me check the gun is loaded.’

  ‘It’s loaded,’ Trevor tells him. ‘Your wife fired it a moment ago.’

  ‘Please,’ he says. ‘We don’t want any more surprises.’

  I slow as I reach the top of the steps. ‘The gun is loaded, Leo. Don’t worry.’

  He nods, then looks to Wilks and yells, ‘Watch out, she’s—’

  My gaze snaps to Wilks. So does Trevor’s own.

  Wilks is standing still, hands raised as before.

  It’s a distraction.

  Leo disarms Trevor, taking the gun.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I shout down to him.

  ‘What I have to do,’ Leo shouts back.

  Leo fires a single shot that hits Wilks in the head and she drops straight down, no bones, all water.

  A mist of blood floats lazily in the air where Wilks had stood, the fine vapour glistening in the moonlight.

  1:59 a.m.

  The business park gives Rusty a post-apocalyptic vibe. It’s built-up as an apparent outpost of commerce, of civilisation and progress, but it’s also a wasteland that is dead and empty of life in the middle of the night. If real actual zombies rush from the shadows to swarm her cruiser she won’t be the least bit surprised. Can’t call them zombies, though, can you? Some kind of rule. She doesn’t understand why not, why it’s a thing. A zombie’s a zombie.