Her screwdriver plunges into yielding flesh. He cries out, a gasping moan. His pistol clatters to the floor and tumbles away.
In the night sky, a final flash. There was one last firework after all. This one burns white. Merciless. A nuclear flash. In the harsh blaze, she’s staring into surprised eyes, vine-like blood vessels, inches from her own. The screwdriver has skimmed off his jawbone and gone low, driving deeply into the soft flesh just below his throat. Through her fingers, she can feel his heartbeat. His eyes soften into something like sadness.
He gurgles. She feels his voice vibrate the screwdriver.
Emma?
She whispers back, not recognizing her own mortified voice.
“Deek.”