“Don’t move a muscle,” Marcus said. His voice and mannerisms were calm and collected. His breathing was steady, his hand like a rock.
The storm raged outside, and the rain struck the roof above them like a billion tears falling at once. It created a constant roaring whisper, adding to the dread that permeated the moment. Lightning continued its periodic illuminations, accompanied by the roar of thunder.
In the past, Marcus had found the sound of falling rain to be soothing, even tranquil, but now it sounded like a thousand dark entities whispering with beastly intent. Judging by the day he was having, he wondered if this would be a storm that raged for forty days and forty nights, washing the world away.
He moved forward.
“Don’t come any closer, or the girl dies.”
Fear flashed in his eyes, his composure faltering. “Where is she?”
“She’s safe for now. She’s wired to an explosive device. In my right hand, I hold the detonator for that device. I quite literally hold her life in my hands, which is quite intriguing really. With a simple press of a button, I could end her life as easily as flipping a light switch. Such a fragile thread that holds us together, isn’t it? Everyone scurrying around like cockroaches leading pointless, little lives, never taking the time to stop and consider why we’re here or what it all means. Then, one day, someone like me comes along. Then and only then, at the end of life, do we realize how blindly we’ve wandered. Only then do we realize what we’ve lost. I almost provide a service. I speed along the process. I help people to realize what they have by taking it all away.”
“Even though I find your philosophy totally fascinating, why don’t you speed along the process for me and get to the part where you tell me what it is that you want. Then, you can write me a whole book about your world views and the meaning of life from prison.”
“We both know that you’ll never get me in a prison cell—not alive, anyway.”
“The morgue it is. It makes no difference to me how, but one way or another, this ends tonight.”
“You talk the talk, don’t you? Your voice carries the proper cold determination, but your eyes tell me a different story altogether. Your eyes are telling me that you don’t have the balls—not yet.”
A righteous anger flowed through Marcus, but he kept his composure. He had wondered whether he would be able to pull the trigger when the moment came. He didn’t want to find out. He didn’t want to go down that path. It cost him too much. “You go ahead and test me if you really want to find out. But don’t be disappointed if I blow a hole in your head without blinking an eye.”
“Oooh, scary. We might as well get on with it then. We’re going to play a little game. If you don’t play by the rules, I’ll push this button and blow your precious Maggie into oblivion. The rules are sim—”
“You want to play a game? That might be a problem.”
With a tone of surprise and piqued interest, Ackerman said, “Why is that?”
“Because I don’t play games.”
With a swift and strong movement, he kicked Ackerman in the center of his chest, knocking him toward the floor.
The false detonator flew from Ackerman’s grip. In midair, the killer’s hand swung behind his back to produce Lewis Foster’s gun.
Marcus already had his gun trained on his opponent. He should have been able to fill Ackerman with holes before the madman could have pulled his weapon, but he hesitated.
Ackerman sent a spray of bullets toward him.
He dove into the doorway of a nearby classroom, not even registering that one of the bullets had grazed his shoulder. He regained his composure and returned fire.
Ackerman rolled for cover and leapt into the women’s bathroom.
*
From behind cover, Ackerman said, “How did you know I was bluffing?”
“It wasn’t your style.”
“But you couldn’t know that for sure.”
There was a long silence. “I just knew.”
Ackerman smiled as he leaned against the cold bathroom wall just inside the doorway. Everything was coming together, the culmination of his entire life. And the farther he walked down this path, the more he knew that it was the right one. Marcus knew … he knew.
The man truly was his other half. But in that moment, he also realized that Marcus, although formidable, wasn’t ready for the main event. He had hesitated. He had yet to embrace his true self.
Ackerman’s wheels began to turn. Time for Plan B.
In order to keep Marcus pinned, he sent a string of shots in the direction of his adversary’s hiding spot. Then, he moved to a small closet beyond the bathroom’s last stall. He threw open the door to reveal Maggie’s lifeless form and retrieved a few items that he needed for the next little game.
With a couple of hard slaps, Maggie’s eyes rolled open.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty. Your prince has arrived.”