happened.
I couldn't just lie there in the doorway and wait. Pressing myself against the frame I scrabbled and pushed myself upright and, head reeling, I half turned, half fell into the corridor. I bent over, leaning against the wall for support, my left hand clutching my stomach. Blood smeared along the white plaster as I stumbled toward Crisis Four.
She didn't have far to go. If Josh fucked up and got zapped, she'd just have to follow those TV cables and she'd be there.
My only hope was to find TO. Anyone would be a start. I focused hard.
There was no red light on outside Crisis Four. Shit. I started to look for a fire alarm, though at that moment I didn't think I'd recognize one if it hit me in the face.
I felt my reserves of strength ebbing by the second as I swiped the ID card through the machine and tumbled through the door.
There was a picture on every screen, but they were moving in a slow spin, like a kaleidoscope. I started crawling again.
I didn't know how I got to TC's chair, let alone off the floor and into it.
All I knew was that, as I tried with every ounce of whatever strength I had left to focus on the screens, I could see her.
Sarah and Josh had just come out of the kitchen area. The ERT guy hadn't moved from the area of the brown screens and just turned toward them as they appeared.
Spitting out the blood and mucus that was gathering in my throat, I hit the microphone switch.
'Mayday, mayday. Black man, white woman on the first floor. Mayday, mayday ...' I didn't know if it would mean anything to them, but I hoped they'd get the idea.
There was no reaction from the ERT guy. Then all three slipped out of focus and became a blur. I screwed my eyes shut and opened them again, spitting out another mouthful of crap onto the desk.
Refocusing, I could see the ERT guy motioning to them to either move out toward the staircase or go back into the kitchen. I lifted my head to look at the picture above, which was showing what was happening on the other side of the brown screens. There were a few people in plain clothes at the far end, but no reaction from them either.
Fuck it! I tried again.
'All stations, all stations ...' then stopped, my head resting next to the base of the microphone. The red light wasn't on.
I started leaving bloodstains over as many buttons as I could reach, wishing I'd taken notice of which ones TO had hit when he turned off the speaker.
I got a light.
'Mayday, mayday .. . first floor, first floor. Mayday, mayd--' The ERT guy was switched on and responded immediately, moving toward them.
Sarah was quicker. She must have seen his face react to the message from his earpiece. She drew her weapon, instinctively aiming from the stomach as soon as it was free of her waistband. Josh dived on her, but too late. She fired.
The ERT guy dropped like a bag of shit. Then, within a second of the struggle, so did Josh. Fuck, what had I done?
Sarah turned and ran as the corridor filled with blurred figures in plain clothes and black uniforms.
The cameras were now cutting from location to location as the main control room tried to get a fix on her as she disappeared off the screen. I knew where she was going.
I swiveled around on the chair, and with my left hand on my gut, forced myself to my feet. The door shimmered in front of my eyes as if I were looking through a heat haze. I staggered into the corridor. I didn't look around, just turned right and faced the fire doors.
There couldn't have been much of the stuff left to be pumped around, but adrenaline was getting me up and moving.
She'd be here soon. The Secret Service would bring the principals down to the shelter until everything was clear, and she'd aim to cut them off.
I crashed through the two doors and looked up just as Sarah was taking her last steps down the spiral stairs. She was going shit or bust, head down, pistol in hand.
I couldn't think of anything else to do but throw myself at her in some sort of rugby tackle. Perhaps it would have helped if I'd ever played a game of rugby.
I collapsed against her, throwing my arms around her waist and linking them together behind her back as her momentum propelled me backward into the swing doors.
She was still moving, taking me with her, cracking me on the head with her pistol. By now I really couldn't feel that much. My arms slipped down to her legs and she started to fall with me.
The fire doors flew open again as we burst through. We both hit the ground and the doors swung back, trapping my lower legs.
She was stretched out, her back on the floor, and I was wrapped in a mess around her feet. I could make out the pistol was still in her hand.
My guts wrenched and screamed as I kicked my legs free from the doors and scrambled up her body, slapping my hand down heavily on her forearm to hold the weapon down. She kicked and bucked to try and get me off her. She was like an insect on its back, frantic to get upright.
I became aware of screaming, shouting and heavy footsteps echoing around the area, but it was as if a mute button had been hit, and everything was happening a long way away.
I didn't care where the noise was coming from. All that mattered was her left hand, which was going for Davy's pistol now that she couldn't use hers. I could feel it in her waistband as I moved farther up her body.
Her resistance got stronger; it was as if she were having some sort of fit, her head and body thrashing from side to side.
I put all my weight on her. It wasn't that difficult, I was fucked. Her hand struggled to work its way between us toward the weapon. Our heads were so close together that I could feel her breath on my face. I had to head-butt her, there was no other way. She reacted noisily. The three times I made contact, I heard the back of her head bounce off the floor. It was messy, but it slowed her up.
My head now hurt almost as much as my stomach. I was in shit state.
Keeping my forehead pushed against hers, blood dripping from my mouth and nose, I prized the gun out of her grip as she tried to clear her nose and mouth.
I rammed the barrel into her windpipe and looked at her, my forehead still putting pressure on hers. She didn't return my stare as I tried to focus, just closed her eyes and tensed her body as she waited for death. Our bodies rose and fell with her labored breathing as the doors were kicked open and I began to make sense of the shouting from behind me.
The mute button had been deactivated.
'Release the weapon! Release the weapon now! Do it!'
I thought about it for the two seconds I would have before they pulled or shot me off her.
Her body relaxed and she opened her eyes and looked at me. It was almost an order.
'Do it... please.'
Fuck it. I tilted the gun upward and it slid two inches until it jammed under her chin. Pointing it toward her skull, I let my head move aside. Her eyes followed mine as I pulled the trigger.
Blood and splintered bone splashed onto the side of my face.
I'd finished the job I'd been ordered to do; that was what I made myself think. A moment later I felt the pain shoot up my arm as someone kicked the pistol out of my hand.
I was manhandled onto my back. I looked up and there was ERT black everywhere, then Josh loomed over me, blocking out everything else, blood dripping onto me from the mess on his face. They tried to pull him off me as he started to give me a good kicking. It wasn't working.
I turned on my side and curled up to protect myself, and through the haze I could hear orders being shouted and the general confusion around me.
I was losing it. Josh was still screaming above me, and managed a few more kicks. It didn't matter, I could
