Stray Fears - Gregory Ashe Page 0,18

inch.

“Yeah, good. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Mason pivoted. The pistol snapped up and toward me, and I froze, hands open and out. I had on a Tulane t-shirt and shorts. I might as well have been naked. Behind Mason, a black woman with short, buzzed hair emerged from the church door. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t make any noise. She slipped back inside the church. The blue in Mason’s eyes was brighter, like June sunlight on glass. Blue, blue, blue.

“Hi,” I said. “Hey. It’s Dag. You know me, right?”

“Yeah.” The word was sullen and distant.

“Good, great. Because I was worried for a minute. I was kind of freaking out. You’ve got that gun, and you’re pointing it right at me, and I thought maybe you didn’t know who I was.”

“I know.”

“Mason, why don’t you put that down?”

“He’s going to do it again. He’s going to shoot me. He’s been planning it. I’m not going to let him do that.”

“He’s not going to do anything. That’s not Noah, ok? That’s Elien. He’s not planning anything. He’s not going to hurt you. He can’t hurt you. Look, he fell down. He’s on the ground. He can’t do anything to you.”

Mason’s hand wavered; the gun dropped a few inches.

“Come on,” I said. “I’m your friend. I’m your best friend, right? And we got through all that stuff with Noah together. You’re ok. Look how much better you are today. Just put the gun down, and we’ll talk about this. We’ll figure it out.”

The gun slipped down a few more inches.

“Yep, that’s right. Just let it go. Just drop it. Drop it, Mason. Drop it.”

He said something I couldn’t hear over the roar of blood in my ears and the traffic whipping along the cross street. It was just a word. By the shape of his mouth, I thought maybe he said can’t.

Then he spun toward Elien, who was lying motionless, and he screamed, “Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move.”

I charged. Sprinting up the stairs, I bulled into Mason as he tried to pivot back toward me. He was too slow. I caught him just below the solar plexus with my shoulder, and the force of the charge carried both of us forward. He slammed into the church door; breath exploded from his lungs. I grabbed one arm, dragging him down, trying to force him onto his stomach. His other hand came around, and the butt of the pistol connected with the side of my head. The world got hazy; my grip on Mason’s wrist slipped.

He tried to shove me off, but I grabbed him again, and we both went down. I landed on my back. Mason landed on top of me. I got both his wrists this time, forcing the hand with the gun off to one side. He squeezed off a shot. The clap deafened me, but I could feel my voice in my chest, could feel myself shouting at him to stop.

Mason kneed me in the side, and I lost my hold. He brought the gun up, swinging in Elien’s direction. I didn’t know what had happened to Elien, didn’t know if he’d managed to find cover. I just saw the gun slicing through the air above me, moving toward the spot I had last seen the dark-haired kid. I grabbed Mason, and we rolled together. He came down beneath me, his head cracking against the stone. The shadow of DuPage First Methodist covered us, but his eyes were firefly bright. He brought the gun toward me now.

I grabbed him again. I was using both hands, trying to force him to drop the pistol. He was bucking like a crazy man, stronger than I could believe, the gun inching closer and closer to me. Sweat made my grip slick—slick against his fingers, slick against the composite frame of the pistol. Mason was screaming at me, but I could barely hear him after the gunshot. The gun slipped closer. I grunted, one hand wrapped around Mason’s, the other twisting the barrel, forcing away.

I still don’t know if Mason pulled the trigger, or if I somehow did it while I was trying to pull the gun loose.

His body jerked once, and then he went still.

A high-pitched whining filled my ears; something drifted in the air. Sunspots, I told myself. But the sun was behind DuPage First Methodist, and sunspots weren’t blue. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment; my center of gravity was off, like I was falling.

When I opened them