Ice-Cream Truck
I am watching Tom Truckle phase out, lost in a memory or something. The reason why Lewis doesn’t want me to kick his ass still escapes me, but I am respecting it.
“I can understand your motives, helping Black Chess,” Fabiola continues telling Tom. “They must-have offered you money or something. Safety for your children in a world that’s falling apart. To be frank, none of us had ever been good to you. I understand.”
“All right,” Tom said softly, still pointing his gun. “What do you want?”
“As Lewis said, he needs clearance, space to perform magic on the little girl you just shot,” she said. “You should be grateful Lewis can save her or you’d have to put up with the guilt of killing her for the rest of your life.”
“I will let you save her,” Tom speaks to Lewis. “That doesn’t mean I am giving Alice back.”
“No need,” Fabiola says. “She’s annoying anyway.”
My eyes widen behind Tom. Isn’t it fun when you're the chosen one and have no say in such a situation? But I don’t care. All I want is Constance coming back —
What the hell? That vision and pain in my ears strike again.
It’s so strong I can’t stand still. I see something before my eyes, but I can’t make it out. I also hear a faint voice. What is this? Memory? Disease?
“How much clearance do you need?” Tom asks.
“Just tell the Reds to clear this side of the alley, around the corner, Lewis says. “I will need a fifty-meter diameter to perform my magic.”
“Will do,” Tom orders the Reds. They obey, pulling me away as well. “But make sure it works. I didn’t mean to shoot her. I was just bluffing. It was a mistake.”
Lewis nods as the Reds move. It’s refreshing to see the world outside the alley still exists. Earlier, the situation was suffocating.
Everyone is moving cautiously. Tom’s eyes are glazed on Constance and Lewis. He even stays with them in the alley, counting on the Reds taking care of everything else. As long as he still can shoot the March, we’re all out of options.
I am retreating. Jack and Fabiola come along.
“I guess I should leave the alley as well,” Tom says to Lewis.
“Actually, no,” Lewis says. “Part of the magic that you, the killer, be near.”
“Really? Isn’t this place going to turn into a glowing wave or something?” Toms squints suspiciously. “Are you sure this magic will not affect me negatively?”
“Not at all,” Lewis says. “Look.” He points at Constance lying still on the floor.
This is the first time I see her dead as Lewis was shadowing her with his body earlier. Something strikes me as wrong right away.
“Look at what?” Tom says.
“Just look,” Lewis says. “Look at Constance.”
“What do you mean?” Tom bends over.
Curiosity killed the cat, I tell myself. In this case: the turtle. I suddenly realize what’s going on.
Tom’s face gets punched so hard, he aches in pain and then loses his gun as he flips back. It’s hard to see who did from this angle, but I know.
It’s Constance.
Devious plan, Lewis. What I have just noticed was the fact that there was no blood around Constance at all.
Devious plan, Constance.
Tom missed when he shot her accidentally. She acted as if he killed her. Lewis played the part with Fabiola. Now Tom is on the floor, helpless without a gun, and even better, we’re out of the alley with enough space to fight the Reds.
I reach for my Vorpal sword by stretching out a hand. It flies back to me. Jack and Fabiola begin fighting as well.
From the corner of my eye, Lewis and Constance jump in the air like basketball players, and high-five.
It’s a madly beautiful life.