there?” shouts the King. He looks up at one of his
men. “I thought they'd rounded up all the targets except Jamie. Carl, get on
the horn and demand an answer, I want to know why I was lied to, and why the
fighting is so close to my offices. He gave me his word that this wouldn't
happen.”
Outside, somebody is
shouting. The King motions for the men to pick him up – it has gone strangely
quiet, as though a ceasefire has been called. For Jamie, the only sound in the
world is Chloe whispering into his ear.
“ I've
never seen you as miserable as you were working for the King. Don't put yourself
through that again. Do what you have to.”
The King shouts over
their whispered nothings:
“ There's
some commotion outside, Jamie,” the King is held between the two men now,
wincing as his wounded knee swings back and forth. “Come with us and we can
sort this out in my office. Come on, it's time to go.”
Jamie hasn't broken eye
contact with Chloe, nor has the gun dropped.
“ You
sure about this?” he asks Chloe. A single droplet of blood leaks from his nose
and falls to the floor.
She nods, and presses
herself against him.
Jamie pauses. He can
make out the words being shouted outside. There are sirens, orders being yelled
over the top of the chaos – but one voice sticks out, as though it were
stronger and clearer by its own virtue. The words resolve themselves out of the
mess:
The King.
The King hears it too,
his name being shouted in the streets.
His men have
one-handedly levelled their sub-machine guns at Jamie and Chloe, and the King
is patting at their shoulders to get him up the stairs. One of the suited men
frowns as his earpiece fills with garbled sound.
“ King,”
he looks up at his master, “we've got trouble in the street. Armed units have
engaged a target.”
The King screws his
eyes shut in frustration.
“ If
those idiots can't handle a few weirdos or whatever then what the hell are we
hiding for? Whatever, the offices are locked down and no law is coming up here,
let's get upstairs. Jamie, bring your little insurance policy and come with
us.”
When they don't answer,
the King turns back, an eyebrow raised.
“ Jamie
-” he begins.
“ Consider
this my resignation, King,” he says.
The word falls like the
hammer of a gun. Jamie tenses up, and Chloe shrinks into him as though she is
trying to bury herself between his ribs.
The King sighs and
rolls his eyes, waving a hand.
“ So
much potential down the drain. Shoot him.”
Jamie's finger pulls
the trigger tight and the hallway erupts with the barking of gunfire and the
strobe-light muzzle flashes. His nose begins to spew blood as the bullets slow
and stop around him, hanging in the air like raindrops.
Mark groans as he
emerges from the crater of broken tarmac and dust that he has left in the road,
and finds himself in a street filled with scattered, frightened onlookers. Some
of them are pointing – others shouting. One or two are pulling phones from
their pockets, trying to catch a glimpse of him in their cameras. He looks up,
realigning his sense of direction, trying to find his destination -
His destination.
He frowns, pulling the
card out of his overalls and squinting at it as his eyes adjust to the low
light. The building marked on the card is on a street that he knows well. His
eyes catch the large red office building in the distance, the marker of the
street's end, and he focuses the strength into his legs and leaps into the air
with an apprehensive grimace plastered across his face.
Mark soars for a few
seconds, just like before. His stomach flips as he passes over buildings, the
cold air stinging his eyes as he ascends.
Then the wind takes the
speed from his spread-eagled form, and he begins to fall as though he were
getting heavier and heavier. Wincing and tensing his stomach at the sickening
lurch of his fall, he bends his knees and puts his arms out as though to catch
himself.
The ground rushes up to
meet
Nathan Shumate (Editor)
Alexia Stark
Pamela Labud
William Mitchell
Katy Regnery
The Scoundrel
Claire Delacroix
M. G. Higgins
Heather Graham
Nikki Godwin