Chapter 4

Brian sat breathing heavily on the floor, the whites of his eyes seeming to blot out everything else. He looked down at his shirt, and touched the sticky substance that covered it slowly with his hand. He brought his now-red fingertips up in front of his face, and tried to come to terms with the fact that he was covered in a dead man’s blood. He turned his head slowly to the side, as if he was in a dream, and spotted A.J. sprawled on the floor. His horror turned to relief, and he made as if to call to him.

It took A.J. a moment to realize that Brian wasn’t dead. That moment almost cost him dearly. He threw up a hand to Brian, signaling him to be quiet. Their eyes met, and both could see the terror that had latched its claws into them. Brian closed his mouth and nodded shakily. A.J. pointed to the phone. Brian nodded again, understanding.

Howie hung up the phone, irritated.

“Who was it?” Nick asked lazily.

“Some prank,” Howie answered. Neither thought to check the ID.

“Where the hell are they, anyway? What could be taking so long?”

Before Howie could answer, the phone rang again. Howie answered, and at first heard nothing, just as before. He thought he could make out some yelling, but that was all. Disgusted, he moved his finger up to the “end” button. He paused half way when a loud bang caused him to jump.

“What the hell?” Howie said, looking confused. All of the sudden, he heard a voice that was unmistakably Brian’s. Howie’s voice drained of color, and he almost dropped the phone.

“What is it?” Nick cried, alarmed.

Without saying a word, Howie flipped the phone over and read the caller ID.

“Holy shit, it’s A.J.’s number.

“So? Is he pranking you or something?” When Nick saw how white Howie had become, the smile fled his face in an instant.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” Howie said hoarsely, “But I think Brian just got shot.”

The two criminals had started screaming at each other.

“What the hell did you do that for? Now we’ll be wanted for murder!”

“He was begging for it, man! Begging for it!”

“You little shit! We are fucked! Do you hear me? Fucked!”

“Just get the money and let’s go!”

Before the other could reply, a stack of cans that had been upset in the fracas finally lost their balance and fell- right on top of A.J. He threw his arms protectively over his head, but it didn’t help much. He bit his lip until it bled, but he was unable to stop the yelp that escaped his lips.

Both men stopped cold at the new sound. The first, the more level-headed one, signaled to the second.

“Go! See who that was.”

A.J. cursed himself silently. It was over. He could just pray that Howie had gotten the message.

“Where the hell did you come from?”

A.J. flinched as the cold steel from the barrel of the shotgun was pressed hard into his temple. He grunted and got to his feet. Brian moaned in despair.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since you decided to have this little shindig,” A.J. muttered. He tried to hide the phone, which was still lying on the floor, but he was too late. The crook spotted it, and started cussing like a sailor. He kicked it with all his might against the wall.

“What is it?” The first man roared.

“He’s got a fucking cell phone. And he’s used it.”

“Son of a bitch!” he swore.

“Should I kill him?”

A.J. closed his eyes and pressed his lips together to form a thin line as he the gun was cocked against his head. He swallowed nervously and clenched his fists, sweat forming at the top of his brow.

Brian fought down the panic that was trying its best to engulf him. It was taking every ounce of strength he had to keep from lunging towards A.J. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t die. Not here, not like this. He made eye contact with A.J., and tried to project to him whatever strength he had. A.J. gave a small reassuring nod. Brian resisted the crazy urge to laugh. Despite the situation they were in, A.J. was able to play it so cool that Brian actually believed for a moment that he would be all right.

“I have a better idea,” The first thief said, his voice sickeningly sweet. He raised his gun, and panned the room. He leveled it at his selected target, and fired.

Nick jumped as if he’d been slapped. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “They just went to get food!”

Howie pressed the phone closer to his ear, straining to hear what was going on. He could make out voices, but heavy breathing close to the speaker obscured them.

“Nick,” Howie said urgently. Go get help!”

Nick nodded fearfully, and ran towards the door. The first thought to enter his mind when Howie said the word “help” was not 911, or the police. It was Kevin. Kevin was always the one he went to when he was in a jam (or Brian, but it just so happened that Brian was the source of the emergency this time). He skidded to a stop in front of Kevin’s door, grabbing onto the doorknob to keep from falling. He began to beat on the door, hollering his name. At the same time, his senses came back to him, and he reached for his cell phone. He dialed 911 as he waited for Kevin, and began pounding again as he waited for an answer.

“Damn it Kevin! Answer the door!”

The operator picked up, and Nick frantically tried to tell her what happened. As he was struggling to get some kind of story out, a bleary-eyed Kevin answered the door. He took one look at the stuttering young man in front of him and became wide-awake. He caught the words ‘Brian,’ ‘corner mart,’ and ‘shot.’ It was all he needed. He seized the phone from Nick, and gave their location without blinking an eye.

“Get here now.” He hung up the phone, and then grabbed Nick by the shoulders, an urgent look in his eye.

“What happened?”

In the back of his head, Nick marveled at Kevin’s ability to handle a crisis. He knew exactly what to do, even when he didn’t have the slightest idea what was going on.

To say Kevin was shocked at what he found outside his door was a gross understatement. He had never seen Nick so scared in the many years he had known him. Whatever was wrong, it was bad.

Nick began to stutter again, but finally managed to get the story out the best he could.

“Howie is in there now. A.J.’s phone is on, but he’s not talking.” Kevin’s blood ran cold. He grabbed Nick by the wrist and dragged him back to Brian’s room, where Howie stood, still on the phone. As they burst in the door, Howie began to tremble, and the phone fell from his grasp. Kevin would never forget the look of pure horror that enveloped his face.

“Oh shit,” Howie whispered.

“What is it?” Kevin said, a feeling of dread washing over him like poison.

“The line went dead.”

***

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