Madness.
That was the only way to describe what we witnessed.
Cops shot each other.
A limousine drove through the crowd before it smashed into the side of a brick building. The driver didn’t even try to steer away from it.
Bodies littered the courtyard and stage. Secret Service agents executed everyone who came close to them. They shot themselves and each other.
President Thomas crawled across the stage. One of his legs dragged behind him, a trail of red smearing in his wake. He looked nothing like the man of power I’d seen on television. He was small and fragile now, a man hurting and in need of help, like everyone else I could see.
I hadn’t voted for the man, but I certainly felt for him as I watched his painful movements. He liked wars too much for my taste. It didn’t seem like he was enjoying the one before him just then.
“Holy shit,” Drew muttered. “Since when did Washington D.C. become Baghdad?”
“Since Murdock came to town. Let’s go find the bastard and say hi.”
Drew stepped onto the grass and dragged me along. Each movement sent a pang into my knee. That was the only thing that helped me fight off the fear emanating off those around us.
As we moved closer, I stopped again, taking my arm from Drew’s shoulders. “I have to keep going by myself. You go around to the right and flank him.”
“Can you walk?”
“I’ll make do. When he figures out I’m here, I can’t have anyone around who knows me. He’ll use you against me just like he did at the police station.”
“But how am I going to know who he is?”
That was a good question. I would have killed for just a few moments of peace to hatch out a plan. I’d been running around all day, without a chance to collect my thoughts. How many stupid decisions had I made in the past twenty-four hours? I’d lost count.
The boom of a shotgun came from somewhere nearby.
“I have a feeling that he isn’t exactly hiding up there. Everyone is running around like their hair is on fire. Look for the guy who’s just hanging out.”
Drew gave me a nod and started across the lawn.
“Hey, Drew!”
“Yeah?” He spun around and looked back at me.
“She kissed me because I’m awesome. I know you’re jealous.”
He blinked twice. “What’s the matter with you?”
“I have brain damage.” I gave him a bloody grin.
“And you’re an ass.”
“That too. Keep your head down, Baldy.” I took a few tentative steps, testing the strength of my knee. It held my weight, but running, or even power walking, was out of the question.
Drew jogged away, crouching low, and headed around the crowd on the other side of the courtyard. His head gleamed under the lights as he passed by them.
The sun had set, and darkness had begun its descent. The streetlights had already kicked on. They lit up the smoke hanging around the base of the monument from the gunfire.
Most of the crowd had fled the courtyard, lining the streets and sidewalks around it. A few stragglers ran past me, their eyes wild with fear. An old woman struggled to get off the grass. She had a cane, which I’d never seen a woman use before, and one hell of a limp.
She was moving as fast as her fragile body would allow, which was little more than a snail’s pace.
I met her at the edge of the sidewalk. “Let me help you.”
She recoiled from my hand when I extended it.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Cross my heart.”
“What happened to you? You’re covered in blood.”
“It’s been one of those days, you know?” I looped my arm under hers and helped her cross the sidewalk as best I could. I was so weak and injured that I wasn’t sure who needed the assistance more.
“No, son, I don’t think I know. The whole world seems to have gone mad today. People are shooting at the president, for fuck’s sake.”
Her vulgarity made me laugh in spite of the situation. There was something hilarious to me about old people swearing. I didn’t know what that said about me, but whatever.
I got her over to a brick retaining wall that stood two feet high. Bushes and flowers bloomed behind it. I lowered her down to it so she could sit. “Do you mind if I borrow your cane? My knee isn’t working so well.”
“My hip isn’t working so well either. How am I supposed to get out of here without my goddamn cane?”
“Help will come soon.” I smiled at her. I liked this woman a lot. “But I need to get over there and stop the crazy shit that’s happening.”
“And how are you going to do that? They have guns.”
I flexed my triceps. “I brought my own.”
“Jesus… you’re a dead man.” She looked over my shirt. “Why are you dressed like a gigolo?”
“The ladies love it.” I lifted her cane from the sidewalk.
It was made of a heavy, knotted wood with a thick handle on the top. It was something I wouldn’t have expected an elderly woman to use.
“I’m a lady, and I sure don’t love it.” She gestured to the cane. “That was my husband’s, so don’t damage it or you’ll have to answer to me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now stay here until more cops arrive.”
My ribs ached as I laughed again. She was hilarious.
I started across the lawn then, using the cane to move faster. I’d spent too much time helping that woman, and now I had to make it up. If Drew got too close to Murdock before I did, God only knows what would happen to him.
The gunfire had lessened, with shots coming every few seconds. It looked as if some of the remaining Secret Service agents were firing blindly into the people running away.
I’d made it fifty feet further when The Bridge formed in my mind.
The force of it nearly knocked me over. I leaned against the cane, my hand wobbling on the end of it. My chest hitched as I stood there, summoning what little will I had left.
Murdock scared the shit out of me.
The voices of those around me abated, shoved aside by the sheer force of Murdock’s power.
Asher Benson.
That’s my name—don’t wear it out.
I’d hoped you would have learned your lesson by now. It’s a shame to have to kill you alongside these vermin.
How about we skip the part where you kill me and jump right into the part where you surrender? Otherwise, I’m going to have to come down there and whoop your ass.
He didn’t respond, but his rage came through crystal clear.
I kept going, closing the distance quickly. Only a hundred yards remained until I got to the stage.
A man marched toward me, breaking out of the fray ahead. He held a shotgun in his hands. Blood covered his face and white polo shirt.
Goodbye, Asher.
He leveled the gun at me.
I dove behind a tree as the weapon belched fire.
Grass and dirt flew into the air by my feet.
I peeked around the tree at him.
Bark burst away by my face. The trunk splintered.
The man jerked the trigger again, but the shotgun didn’t fire.
I came around the tree as fast as I could, hobbling toward the man. He was spitting distance away when I raised the cane by my side and held it like baseball bat. The last thing I wanted to do was brain the guy with it, so I swung at his side.
He moved to parry the blow with the shotgun, but he wasn’t fast enough.
The knobby end of the cane caught him in the ribs. I heard the bones break.
When he doubled over, holding his side, I dropped the cane and looped my arm under his chin, locking in another guillotine. How many people was I going to choke out in one day? This was getting ridiculous.
Something slammed against my left shoulder. The pressure from the blow threw me off balance. My grip on the man evaporated, and he fell to the grass. I stumbled along for a few steps before my knee gave out, and I collapsed beside a bench.
My eyes rolled down so I could see what had hit me in the shoulder.
Blood soaked through my shirt.
Lots of blood.
I tried to work the joint, but it didn’t respond. The pain came next—a white-hot poker stabbed into the muscle. Fiery agony swam into my arm. My fingers burned.
Tried to sit up.
Couldn’t manage it.
A female cop stalked toward me, aiming a pistol at my face. The end of the barrel shook as she drew near. Her name tag read Shelley.
I looked up at her and licked my lips. I had cottonmouth in the worst way.
“I know that you aren’t in control, and I don’t blame you for what he’s about to make you do.”
One last, deep breath.
I waited for the end.