Selina slips out and begins climbing down the drain pipe. The metal gives off tiny sounds under her weight, but luckily, Soren is complaining about the pain, so he doesn’t notice.
“Bloody hell,” he moans, leaning forward on the chair. “I’m burning up here … when’s that ambulance coming?”
Selina keeps descending. She’s only about six feet above ground, when her sweaty palm slips on the pipe, producing a high screeching sound. Selina freezes.
Soren lifts his head. His eyes are hazy. “What was that?” he mutters and looks around.
“Soren!” Allan says loudly, drawing his attention. “Why won’t you listen? You need to call and cancel that ambulance …”
“You shut up, now. You’re under arrest, remember? You have the right to remain silent, so use that right.”
Selina slides down and lands on the terrace without another sound. Her heart is beating wildly as she sneaks towards Soren and the table where the gun is. She’s only five steps away.
“The future of the world might depend on it,” Allan goes on, keeping Soren’s focus away from Selina’s direction.
“I don’t want to hear anymore from you,” Soren says, blinking and wiping sweat off his brow. “Until help is here, you don’t open your mouth—you got that?”
Selina glances at Allan, and he glances back. Unfortunately, Soren looks at Allan at that moment, and he sees his partner’s eyes flicker.
“What are you looking at?” he mumbles and turns in his chair. He stares directly at Selina, and his eyes grow wide. “Hey! Will you get back in that house!” He reaches for the gun, but the movement seems uncoordinated, and his hand misses the table, almost causing him to tip off the chair.
Before he can go for it again, Selina jumps over and snatches the weapon.
“Stop that!” Soren shouts, grabbing her by the arm.
Selina almost drops the gun, as it’s a lot heavier than she anticipated, and she pulls to get free. “Let go of me!”
But Soren’s grip is firm. He gets to his feet and grabs her with his other hand, too. She can feel the heat radiating off him as he fumbles to take the gun away from her. She fights to keep him off, and suddenly, Allan is there, pulling the weapon out of her hand and turning it on Soren. “Let her go, man. And sit back down.”
Soren lets go of Selina, takes a wobbling step backwards and holds up his hands, blinking dully. “All right now. Take it easy, Allan.”
Selina steps away from the officers. She can tell Soren is in a really bad state now. In fact, he’s struggling to even keep upright. His eyes are watering, his voice is drooly. He’s a terrible sight with the dried-up blood all over his neck, and his skin appears ash grey in the sunlight.
“Put down that gun, Allan,” he mutters dreamily. “You don’t know what you’re … what you’re doing …”
“Sit down, Soren,” Allan says without lowering the gun. “You’ve got a bad fever.”
“Do I?” Soren asks in a wondering voice, running his hand across his forehead. He looks at it and finds it dripping with sweat. “Well, what do you know? I do have a fever …” Then his eyes turn to the sky and he faints.
SIX
Selina stares from the unconscious policeman on the terrace tiles to the armed policeman standing a few feet away. Allan is looking at his partner while breathing heavily through his nose.
“Are you … are you going to …?” Selina asks meekly.
Allan looks at her like he has for a moment forgotten all about her, then nods briefly. “Thank you for helping me. You’d better go inside now.”
“Are you … sure there’s absolutely no other way? Like, completely sure? The ambulance will probably be here in a minute, and if they can help him in some way …”
“They can’t,” the young officer says, shaking his head grimly, a drop of sweat falling from his chin. “There is nothing anyone can do. Once you’re bitten …” He nods towards the house. “Go inside, please.”
Soren gives off a noise. It’s halfway between a gasp and a cough. He twitches for a moment, but doesn’t open his eyes.
“He’s already slipping into a coma,” Allan mutters, gripping the gun with both hands and spreading his feet slightly. “Go now.”
Selina goes towards the terrace door.
Suddenly, her dad’s voice calls from upstairs: “Selina! What the hell are you doing?” She looks up to see him hanging out the window, disbelief and horror on his face. “Didn’t I tell you to stay up here?”
“But I had to—”
“Close that window!” Allan shouts. “I don’t want the children to see this …”
Dad looks at Soren and then at Allan. “Christ, I hope you’re not thinking about shooting him?”
“He’s already dead.”
“No, he’s not, I can hear him breathing all the way from up here! He’s only wounded. He needs medical attention. I’ve already called the police, they’re coming.”
“Dad, you don’t understand,” Selina begins.
“Selina, get inside the house!” Dad shouts.
“But he’s been—”
“Shut the fuck up, both of you!” Allan roars. He points a finger at Selina’s dad. “You, shut that window. And you …” He points at Selina. “Go inside—now!”
Dad obeys and closes the window, but only after sending Selina one last, meaningful look. Selina goes through the terrace door and closes it behind her. She doesn’t feel like looking out, but she can’t help it.
Allan is still poised above Soren with the gun. He looks up at the window on the first floor, as though to check no one is looking down. It’s only a second. But it’s enough. It happens very fast. Soren sits up abruptly and opens his eyes. His pupils are white, empty, dead, alive, hungry.
Selina screams.
Soren leans in and bites Allan’s ankle.
Allan gives a yell of pain. He aims the gun and shoots Soren through the
