Unlike me, Aldo doesn’t hesitate.
His first shot hits me square in the shoulder. It’s close range and his aim is impeccable. The bullet pierces my skin and muscle, through and through, and lodges in my brother’s upper chest.
Through the new wave of pain, I hear Lena screaming. I know Aldo’s men will get her out. That if things don’t go even more pear-shaped than they already have, we’ll be together at his house just after dawn. But she doesn’t know that. This “plan” as Aldo and I loosely called it, is one she’d never have agreed with. So, my little one is screaming in terror as Aldo’s men hold her back and he takes aim at me again.
“Aldo,noooooo. Please. No!” Lena’s cries cover the sound of the next shot, this one skimming my side and hitting Ari in the torso. I can’t tell if it’s fatal to him, but it hurts me like hell.
Ari curses behind me, finally dropping his knife and releasing my neck as he tries to put pressure against the stomach wound. “Fuck you, old man.” That’s all my brother says before twisting away, aiming his gun at the open space behind us.
I’m bleeding in three places, the entire left side of my body on fire and I’m trying to make my way to Lena, but my legs won’t work properly. I stumble, barely catching myself before my face smacks against the ground. I’m inches from concrete when I realize what Ari’s aiming at.
Lena must realize it at the same time.
The next seconds happen in sick slow motion.
Ari is aiming for the gas valves in the unfinished kitchen. He’s squeezing the trigger just as Lena breaks free from Aldo’smen. She comes barreling toward me with a scream, the impact of her body almost making me black out.
At the same time, Ari opens fire into the kitchen. So many shots, all of which seem to hit their mark.
The explosion is instantaneous and fucking massive.
The force of it blows us back. Me, Lena, Ari. We rappel backward like puppets on strings, our limbs flailing before we land with a crash against the unforgiving concrete.
I can’t catch my breath through the agony splitting my chest. Through cracked eyelids I see flames reach the ceiling, black smoke rolling toward us in thick waves.
I can barely lift my head, but I twist and turn, desperately searching for Lena. The instant I find her a horrible sound fills the room. A jarring wail that tears at the air, a sound so raw it can’t possibly be human.
Except it is, because it’s coming from me. My lungs are burning from the inside out and I can’t breathe or move my legs, but I also can’t stop the keening wail that’s making my brain rattle against my skull.
“Rem. Breathe. Rem, you’ve gotta breathe.” I feel someone shake me. A command whispered in my ear. But I can’t stop screaming because Lena is lying on her back, perfectly still, her body twisted in an unnatural way.
Her eyes are closed, her skin darkened by ash. A pool of blood is growing and growing beneath her head.
That relentless dark expense is the last thing I see before blacking out.
42
REM
Lena is dead. The knowledge is all-consuming, drowning me. I’ve never felt this kind of darkness in my life. Like I want to evaporate into nothing, but a ten-story building is crushing me to the ground, pinning me in my own personal hell.
I twist in bed. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I’m aware of the beeping of the heart monitor. The various wires and lines connected to me. The IV of painkillers that has become the closest thing I can find to peace in this purgatory. I press the red button, hoping it will send me crawling back to restless sleep.
I see her there. Feel her hand wrapping around mine. Her lips against my cheek. Can smell her soft scent, can inhale deep and fill my lungs with her. Drown myself in her. Then, I wait for the bliss. The comfort. The sense of being home. Only for her absence to permeate the recesses of my brain and expose my dreams for what they are, nothing more than desperate, cruel tricks of the mind.
In my nightmares Lena is a ghost and it’s killing me.
I’ve been in bed for six days, in one of the suites of Aldo’shouse that’s been turned into a private medical ward. Six days of private doctors and nurses and Aldo’s staff coming and going, poking and prodding, staring pointedly at my untouched food, no doubt reporting back to my uncle on my progress.
Aldo comes every morning. Asks me how I’m feeling. If I’m eating.
I never answer, but he doesn’t stop showing up.
I still don’t know what happened to Ari, if he’s dead or alive. Aldo hasn’t mentioned my brother, and I haven’t been able to say his name. Just thinking about him makes me want to tear the world apart. An unholy rage constricts my throat and I press that red button several times in succession, dying for oblivion.
“Pressing it over and over doesn’t do anything.” My uncle enters the room. “Not until it’s time for your next dose.”
Che cazzo. I glare as he sits in the chair near the foot of the bed. “What do you want?”