Johnny wrapped one arm around Maggie, easing her to the floor, sheltering her with his larger frame as he warded Roger off with his left arm extended.
Roger just smiled and leveled the gun at the wounded girl. And then her image flickered. For the briefest instant she was gone, leaving nothing but a pool of blood beneath her. She reappeared almost instantly. Roger stared, the hand that held the gun wavered as he blinked his eyes and shook his head vigorously from side to side. Johnny didn’t see Maggie shivering in and out like a mirage. His eyes were trained on Roger and the gun in his outstretched hand.
Without warning, Johnny lunged for Roger, reaching for the gun as he barrelled into his chest. Roger was caught completely unaware, his attention riveted on Maggie. He flew back, squeezing the trigger once more as he collided with the wooden balustrade that separated safety from space and life from Purgatory.
The momentum carried Roger up and over the railing, and Johnny scrabbled to extricate himself from Roger’s clinging limbs, only to find himself hurtling beyond rescue with his enemy wrapped around him. Their eyes locked for a split second, maniacal green on sky blue, and then they were falling, tumbling through the air in a sloppy cartwheel. Maggie’s scream punctured the air as yet another shot rang out, drowning out Billy’s cry of horror as he watched his brother plummet to the tiled entrance two stories below.
~24~ A Time for Peace
Roger Carlton lay with his legs twisted beneath him, his head cocked at an odd angle, staring blankly at the domed ceiling high above. Billy had never seen death before, but he had no doubt that Roger was dead. He had definitely taken the brunt of the fall -- Johnny had fallen on top of him and then rolled to the side. But Johnny wasn’t moving either. Roger had managed one final shot as death rose to meet him. The gun was still clutched in his hand, resting on his abdomen, his finger curled around the trigger. That last shot had pierced Johnny high on the right side of his chest.
Billy didn’t remember running down the winding stairs to his brother’s side, but he was suddenly there, kneeling next to Johnny, begging him to hold on, begging him not to leave. Johnny’s breath was labored, and blood soaked his shirt and pooled beneath him. His eyes were wide and scared.
“Maggie?” Johnny groaned.
“She’s hurt bad, Johnny!” Billy cried, tears dripping down his young face and onto his brother’s heaving chest. “I’ve got to go get help. For you and for her! Hold on Johnny, please hold on!”
***
Maggie eased herself down the stairs, clinging to the railing with her good arm, her right arm useless where the bullet had sunk into her shoulder. She could hear Billy talking, begging. She had to get to Johnny. She wouldn’t look, wouldn’t allow herself to turn her head to see the bodies of the fallen boys. She had to focus, had to get down the stairs. She was weak and dizzy, but surprisingly free of pain, as if she had physically passed beyond the earthly plane and existed somewhere between time’s layers. The wrenching, pulling, pounding at her core demanded she succumb and fly away. She fought it desperately as she focused on one step and then one more, moving faster than she thought she could, letting her need to reach Johnny fuel her efforts.
And then she heard Billy leave, racing through the double front doors, out into the night beyond. Maggie cleared the bottom step and let her gaze rest on the figures sprawled in horrific display in the center of the rotunda. Maggie’s legs buckled at the sight.
“Johnny!” Her keening voice echoed through the stately entrance like a death knell. She attempted a step forward, but gravity swallowed her whole.
***
Johnny tried to keep his eyes open and resisted the magnetic pull that fought to wrench him from himself. It was like the pull of the undertow, and for a moment Johnny thought he was dreaming. He thought he was back at the beach -- ten years old -- feeling the sand being sucked out from beneath his toes, his mom and Billy back on the blanket, the sun bright overhead. But the pull was much stronger, and Johnny fought for something to anchor himself to. His hands didn't want to work, and his legs felt like they'd fallen asleep. His chest burned like he'd been too long underwater. He curled his toes inside his boots and fought against the pull with all his might. Why was he wearing his boots at the beach?
In terror, he realized what the pull was, and he forced his eyes open to find his brother. But it wasn’t Billy that lay beside him. Billy had gone for help. Billy was okay. Billy was safe. But Maggie wasn’t .
"Maggie?" He tried to form the word, but he could not.
"Maggie!" He tried again and heard only a whisper of breath.
Johnny screamed inside his head. He screamed, and he fought the pull and demanded an audience with the source of the power trying to disconnect him from his body.
"I'm not going anywhere!" he raged over and over, over and over, until the pressure built and exploded in white light and brilliant sparks like a blow torch on metal. Johnny felt a snapping and a shredding, but there was no pain, only pressure, and then a giant crack, like a million balloons simultaneously popping. And then…nothing.
***
2011