Deep Dark Night

by Steph Broadribb

  JT takes a breath. He plants his hands firmly onto the lowest pole and swings his legs clear so that they’re dangling free. Doesn’t look down. Can’t. Mustn’t think about the drop below. Instead he focuses on his breathing, on keeping a steady rhythm – one hand over the other – and pictures Lori and Dakota’s faces in his mind. He can’t let them down. He won’t.

  His palms are getting sweaty. His breath is coming in gasps. The muscles in his arms and shoulders are screaming out from the strain of supporting his 220 pounds of bodyweight. He ignores it all – thinks about Lori, about Dakota, and how he will not fail them – keeps going.

  Finally he’s hanging over the top step. He can’t reach it from here, guesses the drop down to it – from his feet to the stairs – must be a little over a yard. Not far in the usual scheme of things, but sixty-eight storeys up, with nothing to catch him if he misjudges the jump, it feels like a hell of a lot more.

  JT lets go of the scaffold.

  He’s falling. Flying. Making a leap of faith.

  Adrenaline races through him. Air rushes past him.

  He lands with a thud on the first of the stairs. Helicopters his arms, fighting for his balance. He feels the steps below him move from the sudden addition of his weight. Crouching down, he lowers his centre of gravity, and waits for the stairwell to stop shaking.

  He takes a breath. Feels relief flood through him. He’s made it.

  That’s the moment he hears Carmella scream.

  49

  We move along the hallway in the direction of the hotel’s emergency exit. The place seems deserted; there’s little light, and no ambient noise. Any hotel guests are either asleep, so unaware of the blackout, or waiting it out quietly behind closed doors. The silence seems unnatural. It’s dangerous too. In this environment we’ll hear any move Monroe or his team are planning on making before we see them. They can’t hope to have the element of surprise.

  There’s a real danger this will turn into a fire-fight. Cabressa might not have many bullets left, but I’m sure he’ll not give himself up easy. I shudder. Need to find a way to stop things happening that way. I know the best option: take Cabressa out of the game myself.

  Cabressa stays a few paces ahead as he leads us along the hallway, following the emergency-exit signage. I keep step with Otis. Glance across at him. I’m wondering where his loyalties lie. At the beginning of this evening I’d thought he’d been a friend of Cabressa’s, but some of the things he’s said, and the way Cabressa has acted towards him and the others, makes me question that. Even so, I need to know he’s got my back.

  Otis sees me looking at him and gives me a small smile. ‘We’re nearly out of here, man.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I don’t smile. I’m wondering how JT is doing. ‘But what about the others?’

  ‘Dunno.’ He glances upwards. ‘What happened in the penthouse, it was all kinds of bad. Feels like a nightmare.’

  ‘It wasn’t a nightmare, it was real,’ I say, my voice granite hard. ‘People died.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ Otis looks twitchy. He glances towards Cabressa then back to me. ‘It was bad shit.’

  I stay silent. Keep walking. Wait to see if he’ll say more.

  Half a minute passes before Otis turns to me again. His voice is hushed. ‘We’ve got to go to the cops, man, soon as we get out of here. They’ll find whoever locked us into the penthouse and unleashed that crazy shit.’

  I nod. ‘Good idea.’

  With Cabressa so close, I can’t ask Otis outright if he’ll help me, but if he’s thinking of going to the cops I’m hoping he’ll step in if I tackle Cabressa and get into trouble. The cops do need to know what happened up in the penthouse tonight, but right now we need to fix the immediate threat from Cabressa.

  I flick my gaze towards him. He’s still facing forward, leading us along the hallway, but there’s more tension in his posture – his back is rigid – and I wonder if he’s overheard us. I sure hope that he hasn’t.

  We take a right into another hallway. A little ways ahead I see another emergency-exit sign with an arrow pointing to a set of doors. My heart accelerates. We’re almost at the stairs. It’s possible Monroe could have chosen this place to ambush Cabressa.

  I slow my pace. Otis shortens his stride to keep level with me.

  ‘Move it,’ growls Cabressa, putting his hand on the release bar for the door. ‘Let’s go.’

  We maintain our steady pace as we watch Cabressa push open the emergency-exit door and step into the stairwell. I take a breath and get ready to drop to the ground, pulling Otis with me, in case Monroe is waiting inside to ambush us.

  Nothing happens.

  Otis pushes open the door and walks through. He holds the door for me. Only Cabressa and Otis are on the stairs. Otherwise, the space is empty.

  As I walk through the door, I take a brief glance over my shoulder. The corridor is still deserted. There’s no sign of Monroe or his SWAT team. I think about what he said, how he’d gotten the team stationed a little way down the street, outside the building, and guess that he’s taken the decision to apprehend Cabressa at ground level. I can understand that. But the problem is, that means there’s another forty-nine storeys to go before we act against Cabressa.

  Personally, I don’t want to wait that long.

  50

  The stairs seem to go on forever.

  We spiral down, step after step. It’s hot and humid in here. Dark too, with only a narrow strip of low-level emergency lighting giving a dull glow along the curved outer wall. Our footsteps are loud against the concrete stairs. My eyes struggle to focus in the gloom.

  To my right, the banister curves downwards. I keep my eyes on the stairs, don’t look over the rail into the void. It’s shrouded in darkness, but I know the drop continues to the ground floor. The thought of it makes me feel sick to my stomach.

  After ten storeys our pace is slowing. Cabressa is breathing heavily and favouring his left leg. Otis is sweating; I am too.

  ‘Do you know where the nearest police precinct is?’ Otis asks me. His voice is hushed, but the sound echoes in the stairwell, sounding far louder.

  Cabressa looks around sharply. ‘We’re not going to any cops.’

  Otis widens his eyes. ‘We have to. The rest of the group could still be trapped on the roof. We have to—’

  ‘I said no.’ Cabressa’s voice is firm. He doesn’t turn around.

  Otis looks at me. I give a shake of my head: Don’t pursue it. Not here.

  Right now, we’re like fish in a very tall barrel. And Cabressa is the only one with a gun.

  So we stay silent and keep going down. My dress is damp with sweat. My thighs burn from the effort, and my feet are starting to feel sore from walking barefoot on the concrete.

  A few minutes later, Cabressa falters. He catches the edge of the stair with his toe, misses a step, and makes a grab for the banister. It’s not high – more level with his waist than mid-torso – and as his belly hits the rail I think he might fall. I hope he might fall. But it doesn’t happen.

  Me and Otis say nothing. Cabressa continues downwards, acting like nothing’s happened. But he’s limping more heavily now, and each time he puts weight on his right leg his fingers cling claw-like to the rail to try and keep some of the weight from his leg.

  We’ve travelled another storey down before Cabressa stops and raises his free hand. ‘Hold up,’ he says. His voice is weaker than before, more breathless.

  As he turns back towards us I see that the box of chess pieces has slipped down and is starting to force its way out the bottom of his now half untucked shirt. He fumbles with the buttons, tries to retuck the shirt, but with the Glock in one hand he fails. He shakes his head and sticks the gun into the back of his pants waistband. Uses both hands to take a hold of the box, then tucks it under one arm while he sorts out the shirt.

  He’s looking down at what he’s doing. Not focused on me or Otis anymore.

  That’s when I make my move.
/>   I take the three steps between us in a rush. One-two-three. Slam my fist into his belly, using my momentum to drive into him harder. He doubles over, but he’s not done yet. He’s hitting me with his free hand. Forcing his weight against me, his shoulder pushing into my chest, trying to get away down the stairs. I ignore the blows. Stay focused on what I’m after.

  I reach for the gun.

  Cabressa stops hitting me and lurches sideways, trying to shake me off. I stay with him. Focus on pulling the Glock from his waistband.

  My fingers close around the handle.

  I don’t see the blow coming until it’s too late. The wooden box with the chess pieces smacks into my head. I drop to my knees. Lose my balance and fall forwards, tumbling down a few steps. The concrete bites into my bare legs and arms.

  I lunge for the banister to stop myself falling. Grab the bottom rung of the rails and cling on tight to stop my momentum. Halfway up the flight of stairs, Otis stands open mouthed, leg-jigging, watching.

  ‘Otis,’ I yell. I need him to back me up.

  Cabressa’s closing in on me. ‘Goddamn bitch,’ he shouts, spittle flying from his mouth. He raises the wooden box again.

  Just in time I put my arm up to protect myself, and he slams it down onto me.

  I’m down, but I can’t be done. I have to get up.

  ‘You think you can outwit me?’ Cabressa shouts. ‘You little cunt.’

  The blows keep coming. I have to move.

  Using the rail to pull myself up, I propel myself up the stairs towards Cabressa. But I’m too slow and too unbalanced. My vision swims, and I feel like I might vomit. Force myself forward. I can’t give up. And Otis seems incapable of helping.

  Cabressa hits me across the ribs and the wooden box splinters open. The chess pieces cascade out, showering down the stairs with a clatter. ‘What the…?’ He shoves me hard, away from the pieces, and I fall backwards.

  I land hard against the wall in an awkward position. The breath leaves me. And I feel a sharp pain in my back. I recognise the feeling enough to know that I’ve busted one of my ribs for sure.

  ‘Look what you’ve done,’ hisses Cabressa. There’s fury on his face as he stomps down the steps towards me and reaches into his waistband for the gun.

  Biting back the pain, I press my hands against the concrete and get ready to throw myself back into the fight even though I’m outmatched in firepower, and anything I do now is most likely futile.

  I try to take a full breath. Grimace from the pain in my back.

  Cabressa raises the gun and takes aim at my head.

  51

  Carmella screams again.

  JT squints up through the darkness. He sees Carmella’s hanging by one hand from the bottom corner of the scaffold. Her body is swinging back and forth, uncontrolled – in danger. Johnny moves past her around the bottom turn. Ignores Carmella’s screams.

  ‘You asshole,’ she yells at Johnny, her voice thick with fear. ‘You pushed me, you bloody pushed me.’

  Johnny doesn’t answer, just keeps moving – one hand over the other, his legs swinging free. His focus is on the top stair where JT is standing. It’s as if he doesn’t even register JT is there.

  ‘Get both hands on the bar,’ JT shouts at Carmella. ‘Don’t stop there.’

  Carmella looks down. ‘Oh God I…’

  ‘Look at me,’ JT yells. ‘Carmella, look at me.’

  She manages to do as he says.

  ‘Now move this way. Keep going. You’ve got this.’

  As Carmella starts to move along the pole towards him, JT keeps his gaze on hers. ‘Look at me, Carmella. Not down, not at Johnny – just at me.’

  She holds his gaze. Her jaw is clenched. Her dark hair is falling over her face, sticking to her forehead with sweat.

  ‘Keep your eyes on me,’ repeats JT. He sees her eyes widen.

  ‘Watch out.’

  Johnny slams into him. The force sends both men tumbling down the steps.

  ‘What the hell?’ JT yells. He grabs for the railings on the side of the stairs. Stops himself falling. Shoves Johnny away from him. ‘You dumb—’

  ‘Sorry, dude. Sorry.’ Johnny puts his hands out towards JT in surrender. The gashes on his arms and face are bleeding again. ‘I was losing my grip. Couldn’t hang on any longer. You were so set on helping Carmella you didn’t see me coming. I didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t like I wanted to—’

  JT doesn’t listen to the rest. He’s got no time for excuses. Pulling himself up, he scrambles back up the steps. ‘You okay?’ he shouts to Carmella.

  ‘Yeah,’ she replies, slowly moving her hands along the pole. ‘You?’

  ‘Yep.’ He doesn’t say Johnny’s actions nearly sent him plunging down the stairs, that he could have broken his neck. He doesn’t say that it was in no way an accident. And he doesn’t say Johnny just tried to kill both Carmella and him. Instead he says, ‘You’re nearly done. Half a yard further and you can jump down.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ she says. Tears of effort and pain are running down her face, mixing with her eye make-up and sending black rivers over her cheeks.

  He can see she’s tiring, but she’s still too far out. ‘Come on,’ he says. ‘Keep going.’

  Carmella starts to kick her legs as if she’s trying to walk through the air. Her teeth are gritted. Her arms have started to shake from the effort. She begins to cry out, each time she moves her hands along the pole. ‘I can’t … it’s too—’

  ‘You’ve got this,’ JT shouts. ‘You’re nearly done, just a little further. Keep going. Come on.’

  Carmella rushes two more grips, then misses the next, her fingers closing around air rather than the iron bar. For a moment she holds tight, swinging on one arm, like a puppet with all but one string cut.

  ‘Reach back up,’ JT calls.

  She tries to grab for the scaffold bar, but misses. The movement makes her body swing even more dramatically. She looks down into the blackness – there’s nothing between her and the sidewalk forty-eight storeys below.

  JT sees her grip start slipping. Storming up to the top step, he lunges for Carmella just as she starts to scream. Manages to get a hold of her dress and one arm, and pull her to safety. JT falls back against the railing. Holds onto her until she stops shaking, then releases her. She takes a step down to the next stair. Holds onto the railing with both hands. Doesn’t look at JT as she says, ‘Thanks.’

  ‘No problem,’ he says, but it’s not the truth. Carmella isn’t the problem, but he’s starting to believe there is one. Because that’s the moment JT turns and looks down the stairs to where Johnny is standing looking up at them.

  He looks furious.

  52

  Everything happens real fast.

  Otis roars as he charges down the stairs towards us. Cabressa swings the gun from me to Otis.

  ‘No,’ I yell. But it’s too late for warnings.

  Cabressa pulls the trigger as Otis launches himself down the last step. He slumps forward as the bullet rips through his chest, his body slamming into Cabressa and knocking him backward, into the banister. They grapple. Otis looks weaker, his movement less co-ordinated. He’s bleeding but he’s still alive.

  ‘Otis,’ I shout, as I move towards the two men, peering through the gloom, trying to see what’s going on more clearly.

  Cabressa raises his arm, and I see the gun glint in the soft glow of the emergency lighting. He brings it down hard onto Otis’s head. Otis staggers sideways. Collapses onto the banister.

  I see Cabressa reach for Otis’s shirt. Understand in that moment what he’s planning. I shout for him to stop. Throw myself towards them, grasping for Otis, to try and pull him back. But I’m too late. Too weakened. My fingers clasp at the air.

  Otis cries out as Cabressa tips him over the rail. He clutches for the banister and for a moment stops his momentum. Then Cabressa pistol whips him again, and he falls, flailing, into the void of the stairwell. His screams fading as he drops the tw
enty or so storeys to the ground.

  I reach the banister. Look over into the dark void. It’s too far to the ground to see Otis, but I know he’s gone. No one could survive a fall like that.

  I turn on Cabressa. Fury making me spit out my words. ‘You asshole! You didn’t have to kill him. He was a good man. We’d have died in the penthouse if it hadn’t been for—’

  ‘He’d never have kept his mouth shut. All that God stuff; he’d start feel guilty and then start telling people. He’s done it before.’ Cabressa shakes his head and peers down into the darkness of the stairwell. ‘Better to take that burden away from him.’

  ‘This wasn’t about him. It was about you.’ Wincing, I press my fingers to the cut above my eye. Try to stop the bleeding.

  Cabressa shrugs. Then hardens his gaze. ‘Maybe I just don’t like people challenging me.’ He looks down at the chess pieces shattered across the stairs. Gestures towards them with the barrel of the Glock. ‘Get them. Don’t miss any.’

  I stand my ground. Don’t move.

  He steps closer to me, sandwiching me against the banister. Prods the gun into my side, twisting it against my ribs.

  I gasp from the pain.

  He increases the pressure against my ribs. Twists the barrel again. ‘I said to pick them up.’

  I push past him, away from the banister and the gun. I don’t want to do as he says, but I’m injured and outgunned. I need to play this smart. Level the playing field. If I can get him to ground level, hopefully Monroe’s team will be there ready to apprehend us. I just need to stay alive long enough.