Even if she's not terrified, it's working.
Oh, God, it's fucking working.
8:32 p.m.
Customers had been trying not to pay attention to the harsh words. But at the sound of the crash, everyone turned.
When the tall man at table 54 screamed his last 'Fuck you!' the smaller man picked up his water glass and threw it. The tall man ducked and the glass exploded against the wall behind him. The woman at the next table screamed as glass shards rebounded and cascaded through the air, one of them imbedding itself in her bare shoulder. By the time Jack was halfway across the room, he could see blood streaming onto her dress and the tablecloth.
People scrambled out of the way as the tall man upended his table, sending the shorter man and the server flying. The tall man then dove onto the floor, swinging his fists. The two men were rolling on the floor now, trying to kill each other. They were spewing obscenities and kicking wildly. Now they were on their feet, stumbling into another table.
Another woman screamed.
Three waiters and three customers were trying to pull them apart.
The anchor was on the phone with the police.
The mayor and governor were heading toward the front door.
The two men were in a brutal rage. Three servers were bleeding, one profusely, his nose clearly broken. Several tables were overturned now. Food and silverware had spilled onto the floor. The violence seemed to have frozen everyone in the restaurant.
Jack was about to reach the fight, about to join the melee and try to break it up, when he turned. An instinct. A protective instinct. And as he turned he saw Caroline, just the back of her dress and her right leg, disappearing up the stairs. Right behind her was someone dressed in black. That person, too, disappeared. But there was something odd about the person's face. What was it? It seemed hidden, strangely faded, like there was something pulled over his head, a kind of gauze. And there was something in his hand. Jack definitely caught a glimpse of something in his hand.
Something metallic.
Jack turned from the fight on the floor and sprinted through the dining room.
He reached the stairs, no one even noticing his mad dash because the fight had escalated, had turned into two raging animals engaged in battle.
Jack ran up the stairs, two at a time. He reached the door to the office, grabbed the doorknob, threw it open…
8:36 p.m.
Yes, yes, it was going to work.
No one had seen them. No one had noticed. And she was scared now. Oh, yes, she was. She'd do anything. Anything at all that needed to be done.
The gun waved and she moved into the corner. Now everything was for the taking.
But what? What to take?
What was that noise? Running. Yes. Someone running upstairs. Don't worry. It won't matter. You're in control. It will be easy. This will be easy.
The other thing will be easy, too. No need to think too hard over what to take. Not really. It was very easy.
There was only one thing to be taken.
8:37 p.m.
Jack threw himself through the door and the first thing he saw was Caroline. She was standing in the corner and she looked shrunken, devastated, as if someone had yanked her entire life away from her. Then he saw the figure at the desk, but only for a second. He saw the gun. And he saw the mask. A stocking, not gauze. A stocking pulled tightly over the face. The features were a blur. And then the whole world was a blur. Before Jack could turn, before he could react, the gun slammed down over his head. The blow was extraordinarily strong and he stumbled back, fell onto the love seat. He tried to get up, to offer some kind of attack, but he was overwhelmed by a spasm of nausea. He tried again to raise himself, knew he had to do something, couldn't just stand there, not again, then the room spun around him, faster and faster now, and the pain made him fall forward onto the floor.
'We don't keep any money up here.'
That sounded like Caroline. Yes, it had to be Caroline. But everything was so fuzzy. Even the sound was distorted. The voice sounded like a record played at the wrong, slow speed.
'This kind of restaurant, we don't keep very much cash.'
Still Caroline. That should still be Caroline talking. Then a jumble of words, some came fast, some seemed so slow.
'The bar… cash register… only place we have money.'
Then he thought he heard, still Caroline: '…get it… two, three thousand… get it for you…'
And then a roar washed over the room. Was this Caroline? No, it was deeper. Angrier, He heard this word: More. And again, deeper and angrier: More. Ruin. Why.
And these words: Bitch. Whore.
Cunt.
Jack tried to get up. He turned his head and the movement was excruciating. More words spewed out now. But they were nonsense. Nonsense from a madman.
Tear down the wool.
What did that mean?
Wooly here… the will is strong… wool candy broken…
What did it mean! Why couldn't he understand?
Wooly… candy… forever…
He saw the person in the mask move toward Caroline. Saw him reach for her. Saw him grab the necklace, the beautiful diamond necklace, rip it from Caroline's neck. Saw his hand flash forward again, heard the noise as his fist cracked against Caroline's face. Heard her scream. And Jack threw himself upward now. He had to move. He had to. The pain sliced through him. It rocked his head back and he saw a flash of light. He knew there was no light like that, not in this room, it had to be pain that was blinding him, but he could fight the pain, he had to fight the pain, so he kept going and his arms found flesh, he knocked the robber back, he was sure he did that. And then there was an explosion. Loud. Right inside his head. And there was more pain. A new pain. It frightened him. Then there was another explosion. This one quieter. And a third, immediately after. Quieter still.
And then his fear was gone because suddenly there was no pain. Just a softness. Like some sort of pleasant dream. And no more blinding light. Instead, a gentle white cloud. He heard Caroline again. Why was she screaming? It was over now, wasn't it? There was nothing to be frightened about. There was no more pain.
He reached for her, to show her that it was all right. To show her that she was safe. But he couldn't seem to grab hold of her. She seemed to melt away from him.
Now he felt something strange. It was as if something was seeping out of him. He couldn't tell what it was. It felt good, though, that's what was so strange. He knew it was bad but it felt so very, very good.
And suddenly he knew what it was that was escaping from inside of him. What it was that was leaving, rushing away in a flood now, never to return.
It was his life itself that was deserting him.
He heard one last thing as he slid limply onto the floor. One final explosion. This one didn't frighten him at all. It was too distant. Too quiet. So he figured he had to be wrong. It wasn't an explosion. It was just a dream.
Just a nice, quiet, painless dream.
