Davie didn’t think that was true, though. The police didn’t carry guns as far as he knew. They used pepper sprays and batons and stuff. The only time Davie had seen Police with guns was when they shot some sick nutcase on TV a couple years ago. Raul something-or-other. Other than that, the pigs in this country were harmless – nothing like the American cops he watched in the movies. Now they were badass.
Davie reached the end of the corridor and found himself lost again as he faced several options to choose from. He could go left, right, or straight on. He chose to stand still and listen, hoping to hear something that would make the decision easier. While he was not absolutely certain, he thought he could hear faint voices coming from a ward on the left: WARD 7.
Davie headed there immediately and was relieved when he heard the voices again, more clearly. He soon reached a wide-open nurse’s station and Davie clearly identified one of the voices as his brother’s. What was worrying, however, was that all the other voices he could hear were ones of pleading.
Davie turned a full circle of the room, trying to hone in on where the voices were coming from. Eventually he settled on a room to the left. He could not see inside the room’s windows because a curtain was pulled across them, but, as he approached the door, Davie was certain that it was where his brother was.
“Frankie?” he shouted at the closed door.
The voices inside the room stopped abruptly. Then Davie heard his brother’s voice reply from inside.
“Davie? Is that you? Get your ass in here, little bro. You’re just in time.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The bullet had hit only centremetres above Bex’s head. Andrew’s heart leapt into his throat and stayed there. Now, as he tried to speak, his vocal chords were so restricted that his words came out choked. “I can’t…b-believe you just…did that! You’re insane.”
Frankie blew the end of the smoking revolver and then winked at Andrew. “Chill out, man. I was just making a point, innit?”
Bex had gone the colour of wet chalk. The gunshot had been so close to her face that the plaster behind her had fallen away and crumbled into her hair. The smell of cordite filled the room and mingled with the odour of blood.
Frankie strolled over to Andrew and crouched in front of him. “Hopefully I’ve got your full respect and attention now? I didn’t want to have to do that but you gave me no choice.”
Andrew was feeling weaker by the minute. His mind must have been shutting off to relieve some of the pain pulsing through his kneecap and ribs. “Just…please…enough. Enough.”
“Begging again, Andrew? I thought you’d grown bigger balls than that.”
“Frankie?”
Everyone in the room looked towards the door. Someone was outside. If Andrew wasn’t mistaken, it sounded like Davie.
Frankie edged over to the doorway and leant his head next to the wood. “Davie? Is that you? Get your ass in here, little bro. You’re just in time.”
To Andrew’s surprise, it was indeed Davie that entered the room cautiously. He’d thought Davie had wanted no part of his brother’s insanity, but the fact that he was here now suggested different. When it came right down to it, they were typical brothers – they stuck together till the end.
“Little bro, I thought you’d given up on me.”
Davie shook his head. “I was wrong to say what I said. You’re my brother and I’m sorry.”
Andrew shook his weary head. I had hopes for you, Davie, but it turns out that you’re no better than Frankie. To hell with the both of you.
A whispered voice snapped Andrew away from his thoughts. He turned his head sideways and saw that Dalton was trying to say something to him. She’d lost every hint of colour from her cheeks and now resembled a ghost more than she did a young woman.
She placed a hand on his forearm. “Grab…my belt. The…canister.”
Andrew tried to figure out what she meant. He looked down at her belt and saw a collection of evenly placed pouches. The one on the furthest-most right was open and contained a small aluminium spray can with a bunch of writing on the side.
Dalton nodded at him. “Grab…it.”
Andrew nodded back, looked at Frankie, and saw that he was distracted by the conversation with Davie. He started to creep his hand towards the canister. Inch by inch, his fingers stretched towards it, until…