Bolo

by Mariska Hutchence

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Suzanne

  I’m pissed but I’m having conflicting emotions why. I want to feel protected, I love that, but I don’t want to feel helpless either, and that’s the way he made me feel. I know it’s only because of how that asshole made me feel, and that I let him do that to me, but even that knowledge doesn’t help. I think I’m just so worked up over this whirlwind…is romance the word? This week has been one of the best in my life, even though I haven’t had as much time to spend with Avery as I would have liked. He seems more comfortable with me, and I know my running away last weekend set him back somewhat in confidence. I know this may have the same effect, but I don’t want to not communicate my feelings towards him because of how he might react to them, it wouldn’t be fair to either of us.

  Anjelica does a drive-by and she seems so much more connected to me than usual. The grilling about Avery and how the whole thing went down has been going on all week, and the jealousy has been hanging in the air like the Sword of Damocles. I’m just waiting for it to coalesce into some sort of acting out on her part. Regardless, somehow she’s seemed friendlier and pushed fewer of my buttons, but that may be more to do with him than it is with a change in her behavior. In reality, she’s not a bad girl, just has different priorities and different values. Beneath the callousness that’s required for how she makes a living, she’s got a good heart, and I know I’ll miss her. I just need to be on my own, now more than ever.

  “So what are you and Adonis doing this weekend?” She asks, sipping her drink. My phone is in my hand and I look up, distracted.

  “I don’t know yet. After Sunday, I’m not putting anything out of the realm of possibility.”

  “There’s no way in hell I’d do that.” She says, looking around and to the dance floor. One of the other guys is in Avery’s position, and I notice.

  “You should, though. Holy shit, what a rush. Doubt it will be something I do again, but it was an experience. Besides, he said he’ll always take care of me, which is sweet.”

  For a brief moment, I see the little girl in her. “You’re so fucking lucky, Suzanne.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “You’re so fucking lucky, Suzanne.” She laughs.

  I glance down at the phone. The text is composed, apologizing for my sharp words, but there’s a noise that starts, somewhere under the music and I can’t identify it. I can identify the screams, though, and the first response I have is to look for my knight in shining armor.

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Avery

  It takes a solid five seconds for the collective crowd to recognize the sound, and I’m already hallway down the stairs, using the vantage point to assess the scene, a natural response. Colt is the closest and I’ve already calculated where Mack and Cal are placed and potential directions that they’ll move. The overheard conversations from the past seamlessly integrate with the current situation and the crowd is behaving exactly as they discussed in what was obviously a planning session. Split down the middle at the dance floor like the Red Sea, half are heading to the front doors, half to the back. I have a better feeling about those heading up front when I realize that Suzanne would be closer to the back. As far as those back exits, I would have expected the guys to bar them, but the flow seems to be exiting from what I can see; just not nearly fast enough. There are casualties, but I have to harden my heart and focus on the living. I’ve heard AKs at least, and possibly an M4. I’ve never had to ID the sounds over dance music before and it just feels odd.

  It only takes one punch to the back of his neck, which leaves my already throbbing fist screaming bloody murder at me. Pain can serve as a focus point, and his rifle is in my hand before he even hits the ground. I put two rounds in him almost automatically, watching his body jump, though he was likely already unconscious when they hit him. I can only imagine that doing something like what they were doing would make you miss things, like someone approaching from behind. It cost him his life. I don’t think of myself as judge, jury, and executioner, but training takes charge. Considering the situation, the number one priority is addressed, arming myself, so I move to number two. Those words are wrong. Suzanne is the top priority and she only had to wait because there would be no way for me to protect her if I didn’t have a weapon. I start heading in the direction I last saw her, but I know my best bet is to eliminate the threat. I have no reason to believe that their numbers aren’t down to two at this point.

  The smell of gunpowder is strong already, having trumped the sickly-sweet smell of the fog machines and the miasma of colognes and perfumes, designed to attract mates. I reach the seating area, but I don’t see her and the terror of it almost paralyzes me. The crowd has receded, some fallen, some having escaped. In all likelihood, they’re just going to pick off the stragglers at this point. The body count is high, and I can’t help but feel it is on my head. Later. I have to find Suzanne and suddenly make eye contact. Unfortunately, it’s with Cal.

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Suzanne

  The nightmare keeps going, on and on. I don’t know what’s worse; the gunfire or the screams. Tears are running down my cheeks as I cower in the shadow under the table at my booth, but I don’t feel as if I’m crying. I know I should join the exodus, but I’m paralyzed with fear and my body is aching from the first attempt where I had fallen and the crowd had rushed over me. Anjelica is curled into a ball next to me, her face hidden. I can feel her violent shaking against my legs and I’m not sure if it’s abject terror or if she’s been injured. I feel like I just barely made it back under the table myself.

  I nudge her. “Anjelica. We have to do something.” The only response is more trembling; her only movement. I look out but all I can see is legs, heading towards the back, but even those are dwindling. The music comes to a dead stop, likely because a stray bullet hit the right piece of equipment, but that’s the moment I see Avery.

  He has a gun, and he’s heading my direction. It hits me with a momentary fear, but his words drift back to me. Sometimes you’ve got to allow yourself to trust someone. He freezes for a moment, his gaze somewhere beyond me, then he surges forward.

  Gunfire erupts again and I realize it’s directed at him, but he doesn’t stop. He dives headfirst towards me, into the cover of the booth. I can hear the crack of shots hitting the wood and am terrified one will get through. The pain in my side is intense, but his presence at least takes away some of that, even if his attention is not directed at me. Anjelica is still catatonic, and his focus has turned back in the direction he came, probably looking for another assailant, now that he was under cover from the first.

  From what I can see, the bar is mostly deserted at this point. There are still screams, likely from the injured, and I press my eyes shut, forcing out more tears. I don’t think I can handle any more of this.

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Avery

  This has to end, one way or another. It’s the only way I can make her safe because I don’t see a clear path for the two of us to make it to either exit. I’m kicking myself for sulking in the office when all this started; maybe I would have noticed their behavior. Second-guessing is the worst thing at times like this, so I shut it down. It makes me think of the office, though and an idea quickly forms. I stretch out prone, supporting the rifle as I try to look through the sights in the low light. I can see the doorframe of the kitchen, but not my actual target, though I know its location in reference to the door. I crawl around, facing Suzanne. I nudge her.

  “When I grab your hand, you just have to get up and run with me.” I say, trying to be heard, but not overheard.

  “Anjelica.” She says, gesturing to the limp figure next to her.

  “If she comes, she comes, but we can’t wait for her. We have to move fast. Do you understand?”

  Suzanne nods and I want to brush the tears from her smudged face. Love will wait for survival, I think. Care for her the right way, right now. I see her trying to rouse her friend as I’m resuming my position to take the shot that I
hope will allow our movement. There’s smoke in the air obstructing my vision and I know that it’s not from the fog machines anymore. It’s just hanging halfway between the floor and the exposed beams of the ceilings. Why they didn’t use the catwalks is beyond me. This would have been an entirely different scene, with far more carnage and destruction. The bastards probably wanted it to be more personal.

  Closing one eye, I imagine my target, even though I can’t see it; the outline, the location of the internal components. One of those catalogued memories is finally paying a dividend. I line up the front sight with the back, waiting for that natural pause between breaths before I gently squeeze the trigger with the tip of my finger. There’s a loud bang in the silencing club and a flash of sparks as the breaker box explodes. It seems like more than a second, but the lights finally cut out. I’m already in a crouch, grabbing Suzanne’s arm. I don’t say a word, just feel her scrabbling out from under the table, still dripping with spilled drinks.

  “Anjelica.” She says. I can see a faint outline of her face looking back, but I grab her and lunge forward, my grip hot and tight on her smaller hand, pulling her along.

  Lurching towards the stairs, I feel the dead weight drag at my arm and realize she has stumbled over something or someone. I swing down and gather her up in my arms, waiting for the sting of the round that could come at any moment. The lights start to flicker as the generator comes on, but I’m already half-way up the tight staircase, hoping I don’t smash her head into the railing, before I feel her bury her face into my chest.

  I’m breathing hoarsely as I slam the door behind us, flipping the lock on the steel door. In the best case scenario, it’ll only give us a few minutes if things go bad, but it’s at least something.

  “Hide.”

  I give her only the one word with no explanation as I sling the rifle over my shoulder and hop up onto the desk, knowing I’ll be in the line of fire if rounds come through the windows. I rip one of the drop-ceiling tiles down close to the wall and use the condensing iron pipe to hoist myself on top, between the beams and the office. I have about five feet to work in, but I’m able to hoist myself onto one of the catwalks with little effort. The lights from the emergency backup system are designed for exiting only, so it’s dimmer than normal, which provides me an advantage. I start to scan the main floor of the club, my heart pounding with and all-too-familiar beat.

  The thought of Suzanne below makes me move even faster and I hate to leave her the way that I did, but I remember my own thoughts about decisiveness, trying to keep the sound of my footfalls on the catwalk to a minimum while still crossing the club briskly. Time is of the essence, because I’m hearing isolated shots from both ends of the building. They serve to locate Mack and Cal, though, and I take a sharp left at one of the intersections, heading towards the front of the building. I climb down the ladder far enough to clear the catwalk, then slide down the rest of the way, feeling a barb in the metal tear through the flesh of my left hand, adding to the pain already there, but it’s still at a point I can ignore it, despite feeling the blood flow.

  The rifle comes off my shoulder the moment my boots hit the ground and I’m heading in the direction of the occasional reports that are still ringing out. Before I even get close, though, he fires again and I see the muzzle flash, pointing at the ground. I squeeze off three rounds in rapid-fire succession, then hear a thud, still moving in that direction.

  Cal. A quick check of his neck verifies that the threat is eliminated. I can already hear the sirens outside, but they’re still a long way off.

  “Mack!” I yell. “It’s all you. Your choice.” I know he’s at the far side of the club and I’m already climbing the ladder again. There’s a long pause and the floor is shockingly silent.

  The voice comes back, desperate, angry. “Fuck you, Bolo.” There are a couple of reports, but I know he’s firing blindly and all he’s doing is pinpointing his location for me as I slow down, silencing my steps.

  Moments later, I’m directly above him, or at least I assume it’s him. It’s the only movement I can detect and it’s right under the catwalk. I put one foot up on the big speaker that’s just resting on the catwalk; probably left over from the last renovation. It provides me stabilization as I lean over the rail, looking down, the rifle in hand. Having to go almost entirely by motion, I take my time. He appears to be trying to keep still as possible, ears on high alert for any movements. I flip the selector to what I assume is auto or three-round burst from the make, though there was no time to examine it. When it looks like the moment can’t get any better, I squeeze the trigger. I’d prefer catching him off guard and before he resumes targeting the wounded, which may include Suzanne’s roommate.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Suzanne

  I hear Avery’s voice, but I’m still almost paralyzed, the pain in my side making it hard to breathe. I’m in the big built-in cabinet, knees to my chest and squeezed in tighter than I would like, but I figure it’s better than under the desk. I hate that we left Anjelica there, but I feel blessed to have been taken to this relative safety and I feel comforted that I tried my best. It’s eerily quiet out there and practically the only sound is my own ragged breathing. I try to take deep breaths, but it’s not doing anything to help assuage my fear or calm me down.

  Avery’s voice in my head. I will never let you come to any harm. The image of his face soothes me more than the deep breaths, and I latch onto it for comfort, picturing his eyes, his beard, the look on his face as he reached ecstasy inside of me. My mind wanders and I question why I didn’t take a morning-after pill the next day or the one following. I try to think about the thought I gave it at the time, but I can’t find anything there. The next mental images to come are of me, sitting on a cabin deck somewhere out in the woods, the sound of laughter from children in the yard. He’s there, his big intimidating frame nothing to them. He’s just dad, enjoying a crisp Spring day with his kids, and it starts to erode all of the fear that’s left inside of me.

  The explosion forces me out of my reverie.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Avery

  The click makes my heart drop as I squeeze the trigger, immediately launching myself upright as I see the figure below me move. The reports and the clanging of metal on metal run over one another, creating one cacophony of sound. I feel pain in my upper arm, and I react by kicking the speaker off the catwalk, hoping that it isn’t still wired. I hear the crash as it hits the floor and the firing suddenly ceases.

  As my ears ring, I’m frantically clearing the rifle, trying to visualize how all the parts of this particular weapon interlock, the darkness taking me back to my training, sitting blindfolded while another soldier runs a stopwatch. This, though, isn’t a game. The sirens are getting closer and I’d prefer not to be here when they arrive. Too many questions would be asked and the worst part is my presence here would make it easier for them to draw a connection between me and the weapons used in the attack. Devin usually covers his tracks well, but it’s always best to just walk away unseen.

  There’s no motion below, so I creep as quietly as I can towards the nearest ladder and make my way down. I want to run to the office for Suzanne, but I need to check on Mack first. When I get there, it’s not pretty and I don’t bother to take a pulse. The speaker had to have weighed seventy pounds or more. It was lucky, and I know it. She’s waiting for me, probably terrified. In the pandemonium, my internal clock has shut down, so I steal a glance at my pone as I head towards the stairs across the club. It’s one minute to midnight and it ticks over right as I’m looking at it. A moment later, the world seems to come to an end.

  I watch in terror as the flash-illuminated elevated office quavers, one of the support beams gone, the other buckling, the whole thing sliding slowly forward. The entire front of the club is in flames as I reach what’s left of the stairs, desperately trying to get into the collapsing structure. I see my life flash in front of my eyes as I rush forward into the gathering smoke.

 
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Suzanne

  Surprisingly, I can still hear the kids playing in the yard, their laughter comforting, the fresh air still filling my lungs, a happy escape from the acrid bite of the gunpowder. I can’t visualize them, though, that part is gone for some reason. I call out to Avery, but there’s no response. Different parts of my body are slowly starting to ache, as if someone is slowly raising the levels on an amplifier. My head and my chest are talking the loudest. I call to him again, this time hearing his footsteps, somehow muffled on the metal stairs outside of the office. He’s probably trying to be quiet.

  “Suzanne.” I hear his voice, soft and deep and I feel safer. Through my closed eyes I can see that the lights have come back on and I hesitantly open them, steeling myself to face the terrible aftermath of what’s happened.

  Those eyes are staring down at me, the concern in them warming me as much as his voice, but I’m no longer in the office. The visual kick-start makes me sense the sheets beneath me, the sheet on top of me, brushing my bare skin. I have a moment where I’m trapped between the reality suddenly confronting me and my vision.

  “The kids, take care of the kids.”

  Avery looks at me, then puts a gentle hand to my brow. “Don’t try to talk too much.” He says.

  My head clears a little at his words. “And rely on you to talk?” I almost snort and the movement sends a renewed ache through my chest. He smiles a little.

  “They’re Saw’s grandkids.” He says. “They like to come over and use the playground set, since no one else uses it. I hope they didn’t wake you up.”