A blur of movement in Alex’s periphery.
The door burst open and Keller stood there, panting and frantic. He saw the torn body on the floor; he saw Alex. Alex reached for him, her mind still moving slowly, weakly. She tried to touch him but he was too far, too distant. He said one word: “No.”
Charlie turned on him, tried to bring the axe up. But Keller was too fast. He charged against the man and drove him back. The axe spun away, clattered on the bedroom floor. Alex watched it all unfold.
“End!” Charlie said again, and there was another crash.
“Alex,” Keller said. “Get. The. Axe.”
She stood and picked up the weapon. Took a step toward the men, who struggled on the floor. Keller turned and saw her, reaching out with his hand.
The end, she thought. The end.
She saw Keller lock eyes with Charlie and then bend him backward, as if they were fighting on the line of scrimmage, the other man stumbling for just a moment. Enough. Keller took the axe from her and stood with it above his head.
Charlie could only watch. He was wild-eyed, breathing hard. He did not reach out. He did not try to stop Keller. In fact he did nothing at all.
“Yes,” he said, smiling. “Please.”
And Keller brought the axe down.