crashed through the sliding door. The glass slicing their hands. The old woman ran through the shattered glass with her butcher knife.
BANG!
Jerry shot the old woman in the leg.
The chain behind them gave. Betty fell into the entry hall, the other parents rushing in behind her. Kate grabbed Jerry by the hand and led him into the garage, locking the door behind them. She hit the garage door opener. Coiled. Ready to run.
The chain lifted the garage door with an aching groan. Kate saw legs in the driveway. Blood pounded in her ears. Christopher was alone in this madness. Her survival was now Christopher’s survival. She had to get to her son.
“Jerry,” she said. “Take me home.”
Jerry smiled as the garage door opened. He led her through the crowd.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
He shot one man in the hand. Two others in the chest. Kate saw Ambrose’s Cadillac in the driveway. The tires were slashed. The windshield shattered. She ran to Jerry’s truck parked down the street and threw open the door. Jerry slid into the driver’s seat.
“Start the truck, Jerry,” she said.
He took out his keys. They slipped in his hand.
“Start the God damn truck!”
Ms. Lasko ran from the woods. Her eyes insane with sobriety. The truck roared to life. Jerry threw it into first gear. He drove straight into the cul-de-sac. There was no time to reverse. Dozens of mailbox people rushed toward them, Ms. Lasko leading the way. Jerry whipped around the circle. The truck’s tires skidded, then found pavement, and he drove out of the cul-de-sac, leaving the madness behind them.
The adrenaline left their bodies, and the two ex-lovers looked at each other as Jerry laughed and laughed and laughed. Kate kept a smile plastered on her face as the pain returned to her side. Her eyes went to the gun in Jerry’s hand.
The hospital was ten minutes away.
Chapter 111
Christopher looked up from the autopsy table.
All the people in the morgue stared at him. Nurse Tammy. Mr. Henderson. The doctor with his scalpel. The security guards with their guns. All waiting in a deli line for Christopher’s death by a thousand cuts.
Christopher looked around for help. The tables to his left were covered with bodies. The deputies from the sheriff’s office. Some old people from Shady Pines. All of their eyes closed. All of them breathing. Still alive.
The old people began to sit up. Moaning.
Christopher turned to the slab next to him. He saw the faded eagle tattoo on leathery skin. The bandages over the eyes. It was Ambrose Olson. The old man looked as if he had been stabbed.
“Mr. Olson! Wake up!” Christopher cried.
He grabbed Ambrose’s hand. Blood poured from his nose as he tried to heal the old man. But Ambrose was lost somewhere deep in sleep.
“Chrissstopppheerrrrr,” the voices whispered behind him.
The old people rose up on the tables. Their eyes mean with cancer. He saw them stand. One by one. Their withered feet hitting the cold tile floor. Their hips clicking like insects.
“Why won’t you let us die? We are in pain.”
The old people moved toward him. He could feel their bodies. All the throbbing in their joints. The black molasses in their lungs. He could feel their breath on his forehead. The sour smell of age. Old fingers pried his eyelids open while withered hands ripped him from Ambrose. They spun him around to face the room.
“How should we proceed, Doctor?” Nurse Tammy asked.
“Let’s give Christopher to them,” he said.
“Yes! Give him to them!” the old people agreed.
The security guards moved to the wall lined with cold metal drawers for the dead bodies. They banged on the drawers with the butts of their guns.
“Wake up in there! Wake up!”
The old folks surrounded Christopher, lifting him off the table.
“NO!” he screamed.
Christopher fought back with all his strength. He grabbed the sheriff’s hand with his right. Ambrose with his left. Desperate. Clinging. He threw his loudest whisper into both of their arms. The electricity hummed inside the fluorescent lights. The room filled with the smell of ozone. The smells of clouds bumping together.
Sheriff! You have to wake up!
Mr. Olson! We can still save your brother!
The old people pried his fingers off one by one until he was loose and kicking. The drawers began to open. Hands clawing at metal. The bodies were inside. Squirming. Screaming, “Let us die!” Christopher saw a body in the middle drawer. It was draped with a white sheet.
The group shoved him inside the drawer and locked it. The drawer went pitch