Along Came December

by Jay Allisan

  “I told you! Tell them to move or they’re all going to die!”

  Paddy appeared in front of me, reaching furiously for the rifle slung across my back. I held up my hand. “Okay, Carl, let’s talk about your conditions. You want us to clear the bridge, is that right? Move everyone out of the way so you can get through.”

  “That’s—that’s what I want.”

  “You’re not going to get very far in that van, Carl. It looks pretty smashed up.”

  “I want them to move…”

  “We’re working on that. If you look out your windshield you’ll see we’re moving everyone away. What else?”

  “Shirley!”

  Car doors slammed behind me. Max came running up, Dixon at his side. Josie and Whale pulled up in a screech of tires.

  Max seized me by the arm. “Shirley, what’s—”

  “Put him on speaker,” said Dixon.

  I did. Carl’s voice came through the line, high and reedy. “Nobody’s moving. Nobody’s moving!”

  “The police are evacuating—”

  “MOVE THE CARS! I HAVE A BOMB!”

  I looked at Dixon. He nodded.

  I spoke into the phone. “Carl, I’m just going to lay it out for you. You know we’ve got bomb squad and SWAT and snipers moving into position. You’re not driving off that bridge.”

  “I’ll kill her! I’ll do it!”

  Max sucked in a sharp breath. I squeezed his hand. “This isn’t how you do things, Carl. The bombs are for the parents, right? Not for the girls.”

  “You—you’ll make me—”

  “If you set off the bomb you’ll kill yourself, and what would that make you? Are you a bad parent, Carl? Do you deserve to die?”

  “I’m not—”

  “Then listen to me. The cavalry is coming, and the only way you’re getting out of here alive is if you give yourself up. That’s the only way. You know that.”

  The phone went quiet. I held my breath. Josie whispered, “Did he hang—”

  Carl said, “You don’t understand.”

  “Listen to me, Carl—”

  “I’ll show you.”

  The call clicked off. I shoved the cell phone at Paddy and brought the rifle to bear. I took aim at the van’s rear doors.

  “Easy,” said Dixon. “Let him show us.”

  The doors opened.

  Maria stumbled forward.

  A countdown flashed across her chest.

  MARIA’S SMALL face was streaked with tears, blood dribbling down her chin. Max surged forward. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Maria!”

  Whale caught him by the arm but Max shook him off. Paddy got ahold of him and dragged him back.

  “Maria!” Max cried. “Maria!”

  “Knock it off, Max,” Paddy snapped. “You don’t wanna scare her. You gotta stay calm, all right? Stay calm.”

  “Oh God, Maria…”

  “What do you see?” Dixon asked me quietly.

  I peered through the scope. “It looks like a pipe bomb. Three pipes. He used a harness to strap it to her, but she’s wearing a collar too. I see a lot of wires. How long for bomb squad?”

  Dixon shook his head. Too long.

  “We need to convince him to disarm it,” he said. “Have you got a visual on Carl?”

  “No.”

  “Get him back on the phone.”

  “Paddy’s got it.”

  “Here.” Paddy passed me the phone, his other hand still locked around Max’s arm. Max looked sick. He bit his lip and gestured to the rifle.

  “Can I see?”

  I hesitated.

  “Just let me see,” he whispered.

  I nodded. “Okay. But you’re only looking, Max. That’s it.”

  “I know.”

  I handed Max the rifle and called Carl, putting the phone on speaker. He answered on the first ring, his voice triumphant. “Now do you see?”

  “Yes, I see. I’m taking you very seriously, Carl. We want to work with you on this, but you’ve got to disarm that bomb.”

  “Tell them to move.”

  I looked at Dixon, who nodded to Josie and Whale. “Coordinate with Highlands. Start clearing a path.”

  Josie and Whale ran back to their car. “Okay, Carl,” I said. “We’re getting those cars moved out of your way, but it’ll take some time, longer than what’s left on that timer. You need to stop the bomb.”

  Movement came from the shadows of the van. Carl appeared at the opening, stripped free of his disguise. He stepped down from the van and stood in front of Maria.

  I looked to Max. “Can you see? What’s he doing?”

  Max squinted. “I can’t tell. He’s got something in his hand and he’s—oh God, he’s accelerating the timer! Carl! Carl, stop!”

  Max dropped the rifle and grabbed the cell phone from my hands. “Carl, you need to stop this, please! Stop the bomb!”

  Carl’s voice was pleasant. “Sergeant Mordecai, is that you?”

  “Yes! Yes, my name is Max. Please, Carl, there’s still time to stop this. You have to stop the bomb!”

  Carl turned toward us, and something flashed across his face that put the fear of God in me. A smile.

  “You stop the bomb,” he said. “I surrender.”

  He raised his hands, the cell phone falling to the pavement. Max kept talking. “Stop the bomb, Carl.”

  Carl stepped forward. Maria didn’t move.

  “Carl, stop the bomb!”

  Carl smiled.

  And Max was running.

  For one dumb second I watched him go, and then my feet came unglued. “Max!”

  Paddy grabbed me by the shirt and yanked me backward, blowing past me.

  “I’ll get him!” he yelled. “Stay here!”

  I skidded, stumbled, scrambled back up. My heart hammered. I couldn’t see Max. Then Dixon was in front of me, pushing the rifle into my hands. He gripped my shoulders. “You take this and you cover me. You understand? You cover me!”

  “Max—”

  “Focus here, Shirley. You cover me.”

  Dixon walked out onto the bridge. Carl was still advancing, his hands raised, his goddamn smile making me scared. I braced the rifle against my shoulder and put him in my sights. The scope bobbed with the heaving of my chest.

  Max. I wouldn’t look for Max. I looked at Carl and Dixon, drawing closer together. I looked for Max. He was at the van, his hands on Maria, on the bomb. She was crying, clinging to his shirt, and he kept having to pry her loose. Max said something and Paddy jumped inside the van. The timer on Maria’s chest was dwindling.

  Voices on the bridge. Focus, focus, focus on Dixon. He was with Carl now, telling him to lay down on the ground. Carl’s smile wavered. He looked toward the van. Dixon snapped a cuff on Carl’s wrist and he shrieked.

  “You can’t! You can’t! I need my hands to stop it!”

  Carl strained toward the van. Dixon wrenched his arm behind his back, forcing him to his knees. “Only I can stop it!” Carl screamed. “He’ll see! Take it off! Take it off!”

  I dropped the rifle and ran.

  “Max!”

  Max couldn’t stop the bomb.

  “Max! Max, get out of there!”

  “Shirley, stay back!”

  It was in his voice, he knew, but he wasn’t giving up. His hands were in the wires, sorting, untangling, the countdown flashing red across his face. I ran faster.

  “Max, please! Leave it! Get away from her!”

  Where the hell was Paddy? He said he’d get him, he was supposed to—there. He was there, trying to rip Maria from Max’s arms, but Max was fighting him, hugging Maria to his chest. Paddy was shouting and Max was crying, but he wouldn’t let go.

  “Carl!” I screamed. “Stop the bomb!”

  I leapt up and slid across the hood of a car. I was almost there. Paddy was hitting him now, trying to force him to let go. I was almost there.

  Paddy struck him across the head and he fell to his knees, curling around Maria. I screa
med. I flew the last steps toward him but Paddy was suddenly between us, locking his arms around me.

  “Get off, get off! Max! MAX!!”

  Paddy lifted me off my feet and dragged me back. I kicked and clawed but couldn’t get free. He clamped his hand over my eyes.

  “Don’t look.”

  I wrenched it free and looked anyway. Max knelt on the ground, trembling, pressing Maria’s face against his chest. His eyes lifted to mine, flooded with tears.

  “Shirley?” he whispered.

  Then he exploded.

  31

  I SCREAMED. Paddy pushed me to the ground and flung his arms over my head. Heat peppered my skin and I tore at it frantically, tore free from Paddy. I stumbled toward the van.

  “Max!”

  The delivery van was burning. On the ground near the wreck was an arm, and at the end of the arm was a hand that wore my wedding ring. I collapsed to the ground and threw up.

  I crawled forward and grabbed Max’s hand. Warm. It was warm. I held it to my chest and kept moving.

  “Max!”

  I could see him up ahead but he looked all wrong. I crawled, gasping as the ground turned slick and squishy. I had to get him. I had to get him. I reached out but my hand was pulled back.

  Paddy lifted me to my feet. “Come on, Shirley. We gotta—we gotta go. We gotta go.”

  “It’s Max,” I said. “I can’t leave without Max.”

  “Let’s go. Come on. Let’s go.”

  “No! I’m not leaving without Max!”

  I broke free and crawled again. I had his arm. I could fix him. I could fix him and he’d be fine. He’d be fine.

  More hands fell on me, lifting me up, trying to take Max’s arm. I crushed it to my chest and screamed.

  “No! He needs it! Leave it alone!”

  “Let it go, Shirley,” said Dixon.

  I curled the warm fingers between mine. “It’s Max’s. He needs it. He needs it.”

  Dixon shook his head, tears streaking down his face. “No, Shirley. He doesn’t.”

  My knees buckled but I didn’t fall. I looked at Max, at his arm, at Dixon. “He’s dead.”

  Dixon took the arm and set it gently on the ground. He held my hands instead. “He’s dead.”

  “He’s dead?” I whispered.

  Dixon’s arms came all the way around me. “He’s dead.”

  My heart tore out of my chest and the world spun black. “Max… Max…”

  Max was dead.

  I WAS awake, but my eyes refused to open. There was a familiar hand on top of mine. It squeezed gently.

  “Shirley?”

  “Max?”

  A pause. “No. No, it’s Dad.” He squeezed my hand again. “Shirley, do you know where you are?”

  My throat choked up. “Hospital.”

  “Are you in pain? Is your head—”

  “Dad.”

  “Yeah, Shirley.”

  “Did it really happen?”

  “I’m so sorry, kid,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  MAX WASN’T there when I opened my eyes.

  He never came for me.

  Max was dead.

  They came, my team, and my dad sent them away. He sent everyone away except the nurses. My head was fine, they told me. The burns were minor. But I couldn’t get out of bed.

  Max was dead.

  My dad watched old cartoons on the TV. I watched the door. Max wasn’t dead. He was on his way right now. He’d come running through the halls and he’d throw open the door, and he’d tell me where he’d been but it wouldn’t matter, because he’d be here with me.

  Max was dead.

  My dad talked on the phone. It was the precinct. They wanted to know about the funeral service.

  Max was dead.

  Maria was dead. I didn’t care. I wished I’d shot her. Then Max wouldn’t have gone out onto the bridge.

  Max was dead.

  I thought maybe I was dead, too.

  My dad was talking on the phone. I only knew because I saw it in his hand. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t see anything anymore, pulled the blankets over my head. My dad tugged them off.

  “Shirley.”

  The electric motor whirred as he elevated the head of the bed. It was the most I’d moved in days.

  “You need to get out of this place,” he said. “You have things to do.”

  “No.”

  “Come on. It’s time to get up. Your partner’s on his way.”

  I curled into a ball. He reached for me and I smacked his hand away. “No! Don’t touch me!”

  “Shirley—”

  “Stop it! Stop it! Don’t say my name!”

  He seized my wrists, leaning as close as his wheelchair would allow. “It hurts, I know. It hurts so bad it’s like there’s nothing good left at all. But he needs you now. Max—”

  “He left me!” I screamed. “He looked right at me and then he died! Why wouldn’t he leave her? Why did he leave me?”

  “Shirley—”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  “That’s your name, kid. What am I supposed to call you?”

  I could see him, kneeling on the ground, raising his head. I could hear his voice. “He was right there, right in front of me, and he looked right at me and then he said… he said…”

  My dad let me go and I covered my face, crying.

  “He loved you,” my dad said.

  “He loved her more.”

  “He was just trying to do what he thought was right.”

  “But he died. How is that right?”

  “It’s not. It’s not fair and it’s not right but it’s what happened, and he needs you now. It’s time to get up. Get up and go see to your husband.”

  He wheeled himself to the door. “I’ll wait out here for you. Take your time.”

  He left, and I was alone.

  I was alone.

  “Max…”

  He knelt on the ground but the bomb didn’t go off. He knelt on the ground but I got to him first. He had me in his arms instead of Maria and we were going home.

  Max was dead.

  I braced myself against the bedframe and sat up. I had an IV in my arm. I pulled it out and stabbed the needle into the pillow.

  I dressed. My clothes felt loose. Max’s shirt felt perfect. I tied my shoes in double knots.

  When I opened the door Paddy was waiting. He looked like hell.

  I bent down to give my dad a hug. “Do you need a ride, Dad?”

  “I’ve got someone coming.” He rubbed my back. “Shirley—”

  “Don’t. Please. Don’t call me that.”

  “Then what am I supposed to call you?”

  My arms were around my dad’s thin neck, my hospital wristband in front of my eyes. I read the answer.

  “My name. His name. Mordecai.”

  He hugged me tight. “Hang in there, Mordecai. You call me anytime.”

  I followed Paddy out of the hospital.

  THE PRECINCT fell silent as we made our way through, my every step echoing against the tile. Outside the flags were at half-mast. Every badge I saw was shrouded. I kept my eyes straight ahead and kept them dry.

  Paddy led me past the fourth floor and up to the eighth. I stopped on the landing. I didn’t want to see Shapiro. Paddy opened the door. “Dixon’s here.”

  He was, waiting right in the middle of the hall. He put his hand on my shoulder and walked with me into Shapiro’s office. She stood when we entered the room.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Shirley,” she said.

  She was dressed all in black but her face was made up, and I hated her for it. I wanted to punch her cherry mouth and rip out her eyelashes one by one until she knew what sorry was. Instead I said, “It’s Mordecai. Just Mordecai.”

  “We’d like to hold a service, Sh—Mordecai,” Dixon said gently. “Two days from now at the First Church. Is there anything—”

  “He liked lilies. White lilies. And he’d—he’d want hymns. On th
e organ.”

  My chest hitched and I knew I had to get out of there. Dixon squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll look after it, then.”

  I nodded, digging my fists into my eyes. “Where is he?”

  “I’ll take you.”

  We went back down the stairs. Dixon stopped at the second floor, his hand hesitating on the doorknob. He glanced at Paddy.

  I grabbed his arm. “Why are we stopping? You said you’d—”

  “He’s here,” said Dixon quietly.

  “But the stairs,” I whispered. “How could you get a coffin…”

  Dixon’s mouth tightened. “Shirley…”

  I pushed past him and opened the door myself, bursting into the foyer. There was no coffin. But Josie and Whale stood on either side of a pedestal, and between them was an urn. My knees gave out.

  “Shirley—”

  “It’s not him,” I whispered. “It’s not him. Where is he?”

  Dixon touched my arm and I shied away. “I’m sorry, Shirley. There wasn’t—”

  “Where is he?”

  “Shirley—”

  “Where is he?!” Dixon’s hands fell on my shoulders and I jerked free, pleading with Josie and Whale. “Where is he? Why aren’t you watching him?”

  Tears crept down Josie’s face but she didn’t move from her post. “He’s here, Shirley. He’s right—”

  “It’s not him, it’s not! Where is he? Where’s Max?”

  I couldn’t breathe. I clutched at my chest as if I could expand it, my nails biting sharply into my skin. Dixon was beside me, telling me to listen to him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I needed Max.

  “Shirley, he’s gone, he’s—”

  “Where is he?! Max!!”

  “HE’S DEAD!” Paddy roared. He hauled me off my knees and forced me in front of the pedestal. “He’s dead, Shirley! That son of a bitch killed him and all that’s left is in that jar! That goddamn motherfucker blew him up, and all that’s left is in that jar. That’s all that’s left. That’s all.”

  I could see my reflection in the urn, red eyes blown wide, tears streaming. “I’m left,” I whispered. “I’m left. He left me.”

  Paddy’s arms wrapped around me fiercely and I wished he would squeeze and squeeze until I exploded too. Instead he cried with me until neither of us could stand, until there was nothing left.