The sound of Fossen’s head hitting the hard floor told Rook that the town’s leader was in some serious trouble. He unleashed another stream of fire at Edmund Kiss’s legs, and Kiss staggered off Fossen. He swung a massive clawed backhand toward Rook, and Rook couldn’t quite manage to get out of the way while holding the gun. A white-hot surge of pain started in his left shoulder and made a beeline for his brain, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut to ward off the nausea. When he opened them, he saw Kiss disappear through the door, pulling himself with his two hairy arms and dragging ruined legs behind him.
Through watering eyes, he saw Fossen lying still on the ground. He didn’t have time to worry about that now; he had to finish Kiss once and for all. For a moment he thought his shoulder was dislocated, but he moved it and didn’t pass out from the pain. It hurt like hell, and he would have a hell of a bruise, but he could still hold the Desert Eagle in that hand as a backup. He didn’t think it mattered; if the automatic rifle wouldn’t do the trick, odds were against the pistol doing it.
He went through the door and didn’t see Kiss. Maybe he was hiding in one of the offices or biohazard rooms, but Rook didn’t think so. He expected to find the man/monster in the only spot that probably still felt safe, the room where he ate and slept. A trail of blood confirmed this theory. The door to that room was open, and Rook approached it with caution.
From the doorway, he saw Kiss collapsed on the couch and blankets. He could hear wet breathing, and he knew a lucky shot must have gotten through the breastplate and pierced a lung. Kiss turned his head to meet Rook’s eyes, but he made no move to stand up.
The eyes no longer seemed monstrous. They were sad, and even though yellow, they felt all too human. Rook raised the AR-15, then lowered it, wincing as the movement on his right side shifted the injured left shoulder. He said, “Edmund Kiss, right?”
Kiss nodded.
“Can you still talk?”
Kiss shook his head and made a breathy sound that could have been “no” if Rook used his imagination a bit.
“I’ll do the talking then. You’ve caused a lot of trouble. Why’d you come back?”
Kiss shook his head again, and Rook wondered what he meant. You don’t want to tell me? You don’t know? What?
Rook felt awkward. He knew that anti-terrorist units faced regular difficulty in identifying the enemy, but usually Chess Team didn’t have that problem. Living statues brought to life by the “Mother Tongue” didn’t leave any doubt about the need for termination. Here, though…
Rook lowered the gun. Kiss’s eyes opened wider. He got himself to a seated position and pointed to his head then to Rook. Rook couldn’t believe it.
Damn. He actually wants me to shoot him. What the hell do I do now?
Kiss must have sensed Rook’s doubt, because he let out a roar and flung himself off the couch at Rook. His legs wouldn’t hold his weight, but the massive body gained enough momentum to take it toward Rook’s position. Without even pausing to think about it, Rook pulled the trigger and sent two dozen shells into Kiss’s face at point blank range.
Kiss collapsed to the ground, landing on his side, then rolling onto his back. As he did, a hand shot up in the air, and Rook could see that Kiss clutched something in it. Then the hand dropped to the ground. Still several feet away, Rook kept the weapon aimed at Kiss’s face.
A minute later, he’d seen no movement, so he shuffled closer. He couldn’t hear any breathing, but he wanted to make sure. He poked at the rib cage near the armpit, and the lack of reaction told him he could move closer. Still wary, he put a hand on the old German’s chest and felt no heartbeat. Edmund Kiss was dead.
Rook stood, then he remembered the dying move with the hand. He found what Kiss had been holding, a manila envelope that had seen better days.
He heard movement behind him and turned with the gun. Fossen was in the doorway, on his hands and knees. In one motion, he stowed the rifle and stuffed the envelope under his shirt, then moved toward Fossen.
“You all right, Fossen?”
Fossen shifted so his back leaned against the doorjamb. “I am very dizzy and my head feels like a thousand trains are rolling through it at once. But I believe I escaped serious injury.”
“You’re one lucky bastard, you know that?”
“Once again you have saved my life. I thank you. And I see you have finally killed our monster.”
Fossen stared at the body of Edmund Kiss, and Rook detected some strong emotions. Under the circumstances, he understood that, what with the memory of the dead and the impact of a quarter ton animal landing on him. Fossen inhaled through his nose and then nodded.
“If you don’t mind, Stanislav, could you help me to my feet?”
“Sure.” Rook helped the man stand up. “You have a doctor in this town?”
Fossen leaned on Rook, unable to stand on his own. “Yes we do. I think I should pay him a visit.”
“My left shoulder could use some attention too. Let me help you back through the tunnel.”
Before he left the doorway, Fossen took one more look back. He nodded once, and Rook could see again the ice that seemed to come and go from the man’s expression. After a moment, Fossen turned, and they began to stagger away, Rook trying to bear Fossen’s weight without allowing too much pressure to build on his left side.
Unlike Fossen, he didn’t look back.