throat.
All of this passes across my consciousness in under a second. Time has slowed to a geriatric crawl.
“Ubert!” I roar.
I elbow the man behind me twice, hard, so that he lets out a grunt and loosens his grip just a little. If they wanted to kill me, I’d be dead right now. I can only thank God I am so valuable to them. I grab the man’s arm and wrench, tossing him over my head.
My boot crushes his face with a crunch. I pull out my pistol, aiming it at the man trying to slit Ubert’s throat. I’m just about to execute him as a hand darts out from nowhere and disrupts my aim. Ubert is on his feet, though, a nasty nick leaking blood from his cheek.
I don’t have time to reflect on it, however, because now I’m crashing into a dusty, disused office with the biggest bear of an Irishman on me I’ve ever seen, let alone fought. Glass rains down around us as his massive bulk presses me into the floor.
“Stay still, Carlo,” he says, sounding strangely civil. “Don’t make this any harder’n it has to be.”
“You’ll have to kill me,” I tell him.
“If I kill you, he’ll kill me.”
“Then you should kill yourself now, to save time.”
I headbutt his massive nose. Blood gushes over me as his hands work up to my neck, wrapping all the way around.
“I’ll just choke you until you pass out.” He narrows his eyes at me, almost smiling. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Carlo De Maggio. Heard you were a dangerous man. I’m a little disappointed. Come on. Don’t fight it.”
I writhe and kick out, feeling weak. Suddenly, it’s like my body is far away and I’m drifting into the air. Everything is getting hazy.
I turn my head and spot a shard of glistening glass, blood dripping from the edge. My leg is throbbing. I wonder how bad the wound is. I wonder if Hazel likes the new kitchen I had made for her: in our apartment, our home. Then I remember that that was a fantasy. I’m losing too much air. Reality is becoming all wavy.
Ubert, I try to roar, but nothing comes out. I sound strangled. I am strangled.
I dart my hand out and claw for the piece of glass. The giant Irishman just keeps staring at me. Dirty hair falls across his eyes, but his eyes just about peek through, like little pebbles poking through seaweed. He smiles.
“Almost there. Don’t worry. Almost there. That’s it.”
My fingertips brush the glass. There is hardly any strength left in my arm at all. Maybe Nario’s dead. Maybe Ubert is dead. Maybe Maury and Durante are dead. Now, this man will choke me and take me to the Elephant, and then … and then he’ll be able to trade for his son, if there’s anybody left to trade with, and there won’t be anything to stop him from finishing what he started at the lake all those years ago.
My face is hot. It must be purple. I wish there was more air.
“You’re strong,” the Irishman smiles. “Maybe I was wrong about you. Most men’d be gone by now. But you’re going, ain’t you?”
I grip the shard of glass. It bites into my palm, cutting. I try to lift it but my arm is useless. Who knew air was so important? How long has it been? It feels like hours, but I know from experience it can’t be more than a handful of seconds.
I try to lift my arm again. It gives a pathetic twinge, like a dying fish leaping about on the deck of a boat.
Then I hear it. I hear Mother screaming for her husband. I hear Emily’s panicked panting as she lifts her blood-smeared hands from her back to her face. I hear Hazel; oh Jesus, I hear Hazel’s scream pierce the air as the Elephant brings a machete to her beautiful throat.
I heft the glass and stab it into the man’s neck, again and again. I feel his hands slacken and all the air comes rushing back into my lungs.
He grunts when I knee him in the back, rolling over. I end up on top of him. I don’t aim. I just stab.
When he’s dead, I clamber to my feet and grab my rifle, limping for the door.
“Hazel?” I growl, voice hoarse. “Ubert?”
“Boss!” Ubert roars. “A little—fuck—help!”
Ubert has killed two of the men but sustained a nasty wound in his leg in the process. Right now, he and