Slumped down, she's sitting next to the loose files. Lamb steps back and leaves her alone on the floor.
'You know what to do,' he says.
Nora looks down at the lighter, then over at the files.
'Here's your chance,' he adds. 'Make it right.'
'Don't listen to him!' I shout.
Without warning, Lamb turns to me and fires. The gun goes off with a silent hiss. Next thing I know, something bites through my shoulder. I slap myself like I'm going after a ten-ton mosquito. But when I pick my hand up, it's covered in blood. Warm. It's so warm. And sticky. There are dark red speckles all over my arm. Without thinking, I go to touch it. My finger goes straight in the bullet hole. Up to my knuckle. That's when I notice the pain. Sharp. Like a thick needle jammed in my shoulder. It pulses down my arm with an electric shock. I've been shot.
'See what he made me do?' Lamb says to Nora. 'It's just like I told you--once it gets out, it all falls apart.'
I want to scream, but the words don't come.
'Don't let him confuse you,' Lamb adds. 'Ask yourself what's right. Would I ever put you at risk? Would I ever do anything to hurt our family?'
From the blank look on her face, I can tell Nora's lost. As shock sets in, the throbbing in my shoulder is excruciating.
Continuing to hammer away, Lamb motions to the lighter in her hand. 'I can't do it without you, Nora. Only you can fix it. For us. It's all for us.'
She looks at the lighter, her eyes filled with tears.
Lamb's voice stays cold and steady. 'It's in your hands, honey. Only yours. If you don't finish it now, they take it all away. Everything, Nora. Is that what you want? Is that what we worked for?'
Her answer is a trained whisper. 'No.' Refusing to look up, Nora opens the lighter and flicks on the flame. She holds it for a moment, staring at the fire as it shakes in her hand.
'Keep--your--promise,' Lamb says with his teeth clenched.
'Don't!' I call out.
It's too late. She picks up the folder and brings it slowly toward the flame.
'That's it,' Lamb says. 'Keep your promise.'
'Nora, you don't have to--' Before I can finish, she dips the corner of the folder into the orange flame. The thin file catches fire easily, and within seconds, the entire edge is lit up like a torch . . . Wait a second. The Request Memos file was an inch thick. This one's---
Nora shoots me a look, and with a flick of her wrist, hurls the burning file straight at Lamb. A blazing rocket, it hits him square in the chest as fiery pages fly everywhere. His tie, his jacket--both start to catch fire. Screaming at the small flame, he pats down his chest and fights his way out of his jacket. The flames go out quickly. The file folder, smacked through the air, lands near the guardrail surrounding the stained glass. Right at my feet. I'm still lying on the floor, but if I scooch forward . . . I can just about . . . There. Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I stamp out the flame, pick up the charred remains of the folder, and read the label. Radio Addresses.
I look up at Nora, who, with tears streaming down her face, is already racing at Lamb. 'You fucking asshole!' she screams as her fingernails slash a deep cut into his cheek. 'I'll kill you! You understand me, you vampire? I'll kill you!' Clawing and punching in every direction, she's like an animal unleashed. But the louder she screams, the more the tears flow--launched through the air as her head whips back and forth. Every few seconds, she sniffles it all in, but moments later, a burst of shrieks and saliva sends it right back out. She grabs him by the hair and pounds him in the ear. Then she lifts his head and jabs him in the throat. Blow after blow, she goes straight for the soft spots.
As always, though, Nora takes it too far. Looking down, she realizes Lamb is still somehow holding on to his gun.
I clutch the guardrail around the stained glass, struggling to get to my feet. 'Nora, don't!' I call out.
She doesn't even hesitate. Letting go of Lamb's hair, she reaches down for it. That's all the time Lamb needs. He lashes out with a backhanded fist and the barrel of the gun catches her in the side of the head. 'How dare you touch me!' he screams in a mad rage. 'I raised you! Not your father! Me!' Grabbing her by the front of her shirt, he pulls her in and pounds the butt of the gun against her face.
'Nora!' I shout. She falls to the floor and I hobble to her side.
'Don't move!' Lamb threatens before I can take a step. Once again pointing his gun, he waves it back and forth between us. He looks at her, then jerks his head back to me. Then back to her. Then back to me. Never together. 'I'll kill her,' he warns. 'You touch her again and I'll kill her.' His shirt is charred black at the chest; a cut on his cheek is dripping blood. Looking into his frozen blue eyes, I know he means it.
'Larry, you don't have t--'
'Shut up!' he shouts. 'It's up to her.'
Shaking off the blow, Nora's still on the floor. Her right eye is already starting to swell.
'Are you okay?' Lamb asks.
'Drop dead, asshole,' she shoots back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
'It's not too late,' Lamb says, sounding almost excited. 'We can still make it work--just like I said. We stop him; we're heroes. We can do it, Nora. We can. All you have to do is say the words. That's all I ask, honey. Tell me I'm not alone.'
I nod at her to play along. She won't even look at me. She takes one final sniffle and the tears are gone. Her eyes burn at Lamb. She licks her lips. With the taste of freedom on her tongue, Nora Hartson wants out.
I make one last attempt to get her attention, but she turns away. This isn't about me. It's about them.
'We can do it, Nora,' Lamb says, as she climbs to her feet. 'Just like always. Our secret.'
Staring straight at her family's closest friend, Nora stays silent. She's trying to hide it, but his argument's wearing her down. I see it in the rise and fall of her chest. Hunched over, she's still breathing heavily. It'd be so easy to give up. Surrender now and blame everything on me. Searching for an answer, she touches her swelling eye. Then slowly, right in front of her face, she raises a defiant middle finger. 'Rot. In. Hell,' she snarls.
When I turn to Lamb, his eyes, cheeks, lips . . . all his features fall. I expect him to lash out, completely crazed. Instead, he's silent. Even more silent than usual. Clenched jaw. Stabbing stare. I swear, the room gets colder. 'I'm sorry you feel that way,' he eventually says without a hint of emotion in his voice. 'But I want to thank you, Nora. You just made the decision that much easier.' Without another word, he turns the gun toward me.
'Michael!' Nora screams as she starts running.
As Lamb's gun swings across the horizontal plane, I barely register what's happening. I'm gaping down the barrel of the gun, and the whole world hits Pause. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nora launching herself at me. Frozen solid, I struggle to turn. There's a coughing fluorescent light right over her head and a clear plastic fork discarded on the floor. A silenced shot explodes just as she crashes into me, face-to-face. I raise my arms, trying to catch her. A second shot erupts. Then another. And another.
Her head jerks back as she's hit from behind. One. Two. Three. Four. Her body jolts as each one connects. We're both thrown back by the impact, crashing into the guardrail.
'Nornie?' Lamb cries out, lowering his gun.
Falling to the floor, I barely notice him. 'Nora, are you . . .'
'I-I think I'm okay,' she whispers, struggling to raise her head. As she looks up, blood slowly creeps out of her nose and the corner of her mouth. 'Is it bad?' she asks, reading the look on my face.
I shake my head, fighting against the tears that fill my eyes. 'N-No--no. You're gonna be fine,' I stutter.
Sinking in my arms, she ekes out a tiny smile. 'Good.' She tries to say something else, but it gets lost. I cradle her head as she coughs blood all over my shirt.
Across the room, Lamb just stands there. Shaking. 'Is she . . . is she . . .'
I look back down, unable to think. 'Nora--Nora--Nora!' She's like a sack in my arms, but she manages to glance up at me. 'I love you, Nora.'
Her eyes are fading. I don't think she hears me. 'Michael . . .'
'Yeah?' I ask, leaning over.
Her voice isn't even a whisper. Her breathing's down to a low wheeze. 'I . . .' Her body heaves and the words stop. I shut my eyes and pretend to hear every syllable.
