There’s a fluttering on my shoulder blade. A whisper of a touch that reminds me of what’s important. “I’m going to pick up Eli, carry him out of here and Emily is going to walk out with me. And whatever debt Eli owed you will be considered paid in full.”
The president tips his chin to the gun in my hand. “Don’t think so. We let you go and then you’ll come back here and get your revenge later. I’ve seen it a hundred times.”
“That’s you.” I click the safety into place and lower the gun in front of me. “That’s how you play and I’m going to explain to you the rest of the game. I’m not going to raise my gun and get revenge and you’re going to let us go and if you don’t, I can guarantee there will be cops at your doorstep in the next few minutes.”
He narrows his eyes on me. “You’re going to snitch?”
Violet will if we don’t contact her in fifteen minutes. I held up three fingers—five minutes for each one. “You have your code and we have ours and mine means taking care of my family. The choice is yours, but I’m telling you, I won’t be the person going to prison.”
The president studies Eli. “He’s gone and, if he isn’t, he won’t make it to the hospital.”
“That’s my problem, but as I said, whatever blood has been shed between the two of you, it’s equal now. Eye for an eye.”
We continue to stare at each other and I break the silence. “Clock’s ticking. I can start a countdown until we hear sirens if you’d like.”
He tosses his hand toward the front door. “Get them out of here.”
I’m in motion, yelling at Emily to leave while bending over and shouldering Eli. I grunt when I lift him. He’s dead weight and I pray that Emily is right and that he’s still alive. Emily’s waiting for me at the front door and I shout at her, “Move!”
She does and the two of us are out the door. Eli’s heavy and my knees start to buckle under the weight. “Get the keys!”
I’m still moving as Emily frees them from my pocket. I jerk my head to the truck. “Get the truck. I can’t carry him the entire way.”
I see the flash of panic in her eyes, but she’s running and I’m still going. Each step harder to take. There’s a rev of an engine, a slam of brakes and she throws open the driver’s-side door.
Emily slides over as I pour Eli into the cab. Emily’s dragging Eli in as I shove. I jump in, flooring the gas, while turning the wheel to get the hell out. The front end of the truck cuts across the grass of a yard and then I even it out on the street.
I make a right, the wheels squealing, and I gun it for the expressway. I pass Violet going sixty and in the rearview mirror she starts off after us. When I hit the freeway, I dig out my cell and within one ring, Cyrus answers his phone.
“What the hell is going on?” he growls.
Eli’s head is in Emily’s lap and tears stream down her face. She presses a rag from the floorboard to his chest and she’s whispering to him that she’s sorry. So sorry.
“Is he breathing?” I ask her.
Emily presses her hand harder to the wound. “I don’t want him to be dead.”
Dammit. “I need a hospital, Cyrus. I’m a few miles south of the city, mile marker ten. Eli’s been shot.”
There’s confusion on the other end then Cyrus spits directions at me. I cut over three lanes and take the exit, flooring it, pushing the truck to as fast as it can go.
Emily continues her mantra that she’s sorry, so sorry, and it takes everything for me to not rest my head against the window and weep. Eli’s not moving. He’s not responding. He was dead weight.
“Oz...” Cyrus says. “What happened?”
I’m driving as fast as I can. I’m trying to save his son. I finally understand the land mines my mother had warned me about. “We need a lawyer. We need time before we talk to the cops. I don’t know how we should handle this.”
Eli spent years warping the truth to protect Emily and while there’s a part of me that gets it, there’s another part that wants to shake the hell out of him and tell him that these lies are what killed him.
“You got it. Anything else?”
“No.” I hang up as the hospital comes into view. Come on, Eli, you can’t die on me now.
Emily
THERE’S NO SOUND in the room. In movies, there’s a beep to confirm that people are alive. It’s a track of their heartbeat. A reassurance that the person hasn’t died. I detest the silence. There should be a beep.
The other problem I have? The ICU room is tiny. Too tiny. If something huge happens the doctors will need more room to save Eli’s life. They told us that the next few hours are critical and if that’s the case then critical means more room.
I’m curled tight into a ball in the chair. My finger traces the cold skin of Eli’s finger that wears the heart monitor clip. Is it possible that the monitor is picking up my heart and that maybe his heart stopped beating again?