ALEX GRABS MY SHIRT, jerks me to my feet. I try to lift my hands, try to push her away, but I don’t have the strength. Physical or mental. I’m broken, bleeding, beaten, finished. It’s over. I’m done.
“That’s all you’ve got?” Alex asks. She’s not even breathing heavy.
My eyes dart around the garage, but I have no idea what I’m looking for. Nothing can help me. I’m past pain. Past exhaustion. Deep down, I know I need to keep fighting, know I’m dead if I don’t. But there’s nothing left in the tank. I can’t even stand up, and my knees wobble and give out.
Alex picks me up again.
“You’re pathetic, Jack.”
I hear gunfire, coming from the house. Harry, shooting at codeine apparitions. Dummy. He needs to save the bullets.
“You know, I built you up in my head as this supercop. I considered you a worthy opponent. No one had ever beaten me before.”
She squeezes my cheeks together, like I’m a child.
“You got lucky, Jack. That’s how you beat me. Luck.”
Consciousness is slipping away. A slap brings me around again.
“Say it, Jack. Say you got lucky.”
I close my eyes. Alex slams me into the garage door.
“Tell me you got lucky!”
“I… got lucky.”
Half of Alex’s face breaks into a smile. I start to cry. Not for me. For Mom. For Latham. For Herb. And even – I hate to say it – for Harry. None of them deserve this. This night of horrors was supposed to end with the good guys winning.
Alex is right. Human beings are just animals, and all animals are selfish. And I selfishly want the people that I love to be okay, and I weep because I’m not going to get my way.
“Perfect,” Alex whispers. Her horrible face gets close to mine, and it looks like she’s going to kiss me. But she doesn’t.
Instead, she sticks out her tongue and licks away a tear.
“Hey! Frankenbitch!”
We both turn.
Harry McGlade is standing in the garage. The Kimber is in his left hand, pointing at us. His right hand is still attached to the refrigerator door, which is resting at his feet, the hinges shot off.
“Let my little sister go!”
Alex snakes her forearm around my neck, putting me between her and the gun.
It’s a mistake. I’m a physical wreck, and a mental disaster, but you don’t need muscles or brains to execute a judo flip. All you need is leverage.
I jerk my head back, snapping it into her nose, then immediately lean forward and to the right, throw her over my hip.
Alex tumbles ass over head, releasing me, flipping onto her back. I take three steps toward Harry and fall at his feet.
“Shoot her,” I mumble.
He drops the gun, grabs my arm.
“Out of bullets.”
Harry drags me and the refrigerator door back into the house.
“Hold on…”
I stop, spin around, and pull the door leading to the garage closed, turning the dead bolt, locking Alex in.
A shot pings through the living room window, whizzing past my face. We kneel side by side, propping up the stainless steel door like a shield. It’s not tall enough to cover us completely, leaving the humps of our backs exposed as we crouch behind it.
“Thanks, Harry,” I manage.
“Mom made me. I think she loves you more.”
Everything starts to spin. I rest my forehead on Harry’s shoulder. He looks at me.
“Jesus, Jackie. You got your ass kicked.”
I run a hand over my face, which is a mass of swelling and pain.
“You don’t need more blood, do you?” he asks.
“I think I’ll be okay.”
Then everything gets really blurry and the darkness takes me in its arms.