His eyes didn’t leave Sherm’s as he spoke to me. “You’re not shooting anybody, Tommy. You don’t have it in you. Trust me, I know. I’ve killed before, in ’Nam.”
“Try me, you stupid motherfucker. I mean it, Dugan. Put down the gun, now.”
Dugan’s eyes flashed from Sherm to me and back to Sherm again. His hands were shaking, and the pistol barrel wobbled up and down.
“Hard to hit anything with your hand shaking like that,” John chipped in.
“Shut up!” Dugan hissed, but I heard the doubt creeping into his voice.
“Your choice, Dugan.” Sherm kept his gun aimed at Sharon. “Go ahead and shoot me. Maybe you’ll hit me or maybe you’ll hit Kim or maybe you’ll hit the wall and the ricochet will kill somebody else. No matter how it goes down, though, I’m gonna take out your piece of ass before I die.”
“Shoot him,” Sharon moaned, “I love you, Dugan. Now shoot him.”
“Shut up, bitch!”
“Oh shit . . .” Oscar breathed.
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want . . .” Martha recited over and over, her eyes still closed.
“I . . .” Dugan’s finger tightened on the trigger.
My palms were sweating and the .38 slipped. I tried to hold it steady again. Sweat ran into my eyes too, stinging them, making me half-blind.
“Dugan, I mean it. I’m not fucking around here, and neither is Sherm. Think about Sharon, man. Do you really want to see her get shot? Sherm said he’d let you guys go.”
Even as I said it, a part of me deep down inside wished Dugan would do it, wished he’d squeeze the trigger and shoot and end all of our misery by taking Sherm down. But friendship won out. I don’t know why, but it did. Maybe it was because I felt like Dugan had betrayed my trust, betrayed my good intentions. Maybe all of them had. They’d pretended to be nice and concerned, but all the while they were just playing me.
“I mean it, Dugan,” I warned him a final time. “Drop that pistol or I will shoot you.”
“Don’t listen to them, baby,” Sharon pleaded, closing her eyes. “Tommy won’t do it. And don’t worry about me. Just do it.”
“I said shut your mouth, bitch.” Sherm’s own grip on his pistol tightened. I inched closer, keeping the cop’s .38 centered on Dugan. My chest was pounding so hard that I thought I might be having a heart attack. My throat felt constricted and I needed to cough, but I knew if I did it was going to be a bad one, leaving me helpless to do anything else. I fought it off and tried to ignore the bloody phlegm building at the back of my mouth.
“Last chance. This thing ain’t got no safety, so . . .” Sherm smiled, and his knuckle popped as he gently squeezed the trigger.
“No,” Dugan cried out, “don’t! I’ll drop it. Don’t shoot Sharon. Look, I’m putting it down. I’m putting it down, you son of a bitch.”
He laid my pistol down in front of him. Letting go of Kim’s hair, Sherm kicked the weapon out of Dugan’s reach and told John to pick it up. John got up from the floor and obeyed without a word.
“Lie down on the floor, Dugan. I want you fucking kissing it. Do you understand me? You’re gonna lick that floor like it was Sharon’s pussy.”
Dugan complied, but now he didn’t look like the brave vet. He looked like a scared old man. Squatting, Sherm placed the gun against the back of his head. Sharon begged Sherm not to hurt him. Oscar closed his eyes, joining Martha in prayer.
“Tommy”— Sherm was still looking down at Dugan—“how the fuck did he get your gun?”
His voice was nothing more than a cold whisper. John licked his lips and shot me a nervous glance.
“I don’t know, man. I guess I must have forgotten it when we were in the office . . .”
“Why weren’t his hands tied? I told you to fucking tie them.”
“They were, Sherm.”
“The hell they were.”
“He must have gotten loose.”
Standing, he prodded Dugan with his foot.
“Get up, asshole. And if you so much as fucking flinch, John is gonna do your girlfriend right here, gutshot or not. Cover her, Carpet Dick.”
Hesitating, John pointed the pistol at Sharon.
“John,” Roy breathed, “you don’t have to listen to him, son. Neither of you do. You’ve seen what comes after this. You’ve been given another chance. Don’t waste it or make a mockery out of it.”
“What the fuck is he going on about?” Sherm shoved Dugan forward. I stuck the .38 in my waistband and held my hands out in front of me. “He’s scared. That’s all. We all are. Just chill out, Sherm.”
“Fuck that. They’re scared. You’re scared. I’ll fucking give all of you something to be scared about. Move it, tough guy!”
He pushed Dugan again, and the older man stumbled. For a second, I thought Sherm might shoot him where he stood. I could see him fighting with the rage building up inside of him. It shone on his face, reflected in his eyes. Sherm was on the verge of snapping. Monsters in his head . . . That was what Benjy said. Sherm had monsters inside his head.
“Tommy, take Dugan into Keith’s office. And so help me God, if he fucking gets loose, I’m capping your ass first. Carpet Dick, you stay here and guard the rest of them—”
Up to this point, Sherm had been distracted by Dugan’s revolt, but now he froze, staring at John. He’d finally realized that John was more than just awake, more than just alert. He was healed.
“W-what?” John stammered. “What’s up, Sherm? Why you looking at me like that?”
“You were gutshot . . .” Sherm’s voice was one of shocked disbelief. “You were dying, John.”
“Ummm . . .”
“What the hell happened to you, Carpet Dick? What is this shit?”
“I-I g-got better. I guess it wasn’t as bad as it looked, Sherm. Honest.”
“Wasn’t as bad as it looked? Kelvin shot you in the fucking stomach, John. You’ve got blood all over your shirt and all over your arms and face. Where the hell is the bullet hole?”
“Um . . .”
“You’re fucking sitting up and smiling now. What the fuck is this shit?”
Terrified, John looked to me for help.
“Tommy?”
Sherm’s head whipped back to me. The business end of the .357 came with it.
“What the fuck is going on, Tommy? Where’s the bullet wound in John’s belly? How can he be better? I thought he’d just regained consciousness— not his fucking health.”
“I don’t know, man. I honestly don’t—”
“Don’t bullshit me, goddamn it! I want to know what the hell happened here. Gunshot wounds just don’t magically disappear. What the fuck is going on?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Excuse me,” Roy interrupted quietly, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but if I overheard correctly, you gave the police a fifteen-minute ultimatum. I’d just like to point out that the time has passed. Perhaps you should call them?”
Sheila was holding her breath, staring at me with wide, frightened eyes. The others were silent too. Then, in that horrible stillness, I heard something that stopped me cold— the sound of broken glass crunching underfoot in the lobby. A tentative, stealthy footstep. Oscar twitched and I thought that maybe he’d heard it too. A second later I heard another. Before Sherm could notice, Martha spoke.
“Ye are of your father the devil, and the works of your father ye will do.” She tottered to her feet, weak but determined.
“What the hell is your problem now, bitch?”
“Saint John, chapter eight, verse forty-four. You are legion and your time has come. Your father awaits you. You will know hell for all eternity.”
“Legion, huh?”
“Yes.”
Sherm moved slowly, spoke calmly— then the darkness inside of him finally erupted. The monsters broke
