Read Online Lethal Expedition (Short Story) by James M. Tabor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James M. Tabor
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hard. She recognized the familiar feel of a gun in her palm. Just a cheap little pocket gun that Ely must have been carrying and that had fallen from a pocket. But a gun nevertheless. She tried to cock the hammer, but her left thumb didn’t work. Ely, crushing her neck, watching the life fade from her eyes, took no notice.
She heard that deep voice:
Die before you quit
.
Drew the hammer back, pressed the barrel against Ely’s side, and pulled the trigger, expecting the sound of a gunshot. Instead there was a
whoosh!
as Ely’s WD-40–coated suit exploded in flames. He screamed, threw himself onto the concrete floor, and started rolling.
Staggering up and away, Hallie had enough mind left for two thoughts. She could let Ely burn. Probably no one would fault her. But he might well take her house with him. Not a good trade. She picked up her box of climber’s chalk and poured its contents over him, smothering the fire. Ely lay there moaning and gasping, face blistered, melted Tyvek oozing over his body.
Adrenaline took her that far, but the choking had done something. A high, shrill note sang in her ears, and her heart felt flighty and fragile. Her neck, where Ely had tried to crush it, would not turn her head. Thoughts tangled and died. She needed to do something, but remembering was like grabbing smoke.
Finally:
Call police
.
She staggered up the stairs, almost fell near the top, struggled on, and grabbed the telephone receiver, heavy as a yellow brick. She had to squint to see white numbers on gray buttons.
She pushed 9.
Aimed her forefinger at the 1, missed, tried again, got it.
Her vision blurred, clarified. She poked toward the 1 again but lost her balance and staggered to one side. It saved her life. Ely, staggering himself, only grazed her head with the hammer. He shoved her down onto her back and straddled her. She saw him raising the hammer with both hands, and she raised her own in flimsy defense. She had one last thought:
I am going to die. But I didn’t quit
.
It came like an explosion, and then there was nothing at all.
28
The verger’s antechamber was dark. Henry Backer, in a black cassock and framed by the lightless doorway, stood invisible to Newberry and the congregation except for his gloves. Then he stepped into the light, carrying the shining new Bible in his white hands.
He walked toward the end of the presidential pew. When he was ten steps away, he made eye contact with President Laning. She smiled, and he smiled back. Newberry, seeing this, was delighted. It was the first time she had ever seen Henry Backer smile.
In fact, he was very afraid, but he armored himself with prayer:
I bring forth a fire from the midst of thee and it shall devour thee
.
At the end of the pew, Backer turned left and approached the high altar, where Bishop Newberry stood, having descended from the pulpit. He placed the Bible on the Holy Eucharist table before her. Newberry said the prayer of blessing, made the sign of the cross over the Bible, and nodded at Backer.
When he retrieved the Bible, Backer was still smiling. Newberry noted an odd radiance in his eyes, which seemed to be looking not at her but at some bright vision only he could see. He lifted the Bible and turned toward the president.
29
Hallie was dreaming that Stephen Redhorse was kissing her. His scent was sharp and sweet, like cinnamon, and rich with something close to wood smoke. She came awake and realized that it was not a dream. Someone
was
kissing her. And it wasn’t Stephen Redhorse. She pushed the man away. It took a second for her blurred vision to clear.
“Agent Luciano?”
He was beet red, either from embarrassment or the effort of CPR. “You had stopped breathing,” he panted, rocking back on his haunches. Another agent, the man she had seen in the Buick, was on her other side. “Agent Scott was doing compressions,” Luciano said. She saw that Scott, too, was blushing. She tried to sit up, and Luciano eased her back
She heard that deep voice:
Die before you quit
.
Drew the hammer back, pressed the barrel against Ely’s side, and pulled the trigger, expecting the sound of a gunshot. Instead there was a
whoosh!
as Ely’s WD-40–coated suit exploded in flames. He screamed, threw himself onto the concrete floor, and started rolling.
Staggering up and away, Hallie had enough mind left for two thoughts. She could let Ely burn. Probably no one would fault her. But he might well take her house with him. Not a good trade. She picked up her box of climber’s chalk and poured its contents over him, smothering the fire. Ely lay there moaning and gasping, face blistered, melted Tyvek oozing over his body.
Adrenaline took her that far, but the choking had done something. A high, shrill note sang in her ears, and her heart felt flighty and fragile. Her neck, where Ely had tried to crush it, would not turn her head. Thoughts tangled and died. She needed to do something, but remembering was like grabbing smoke.
Finally:
Call police
.
She staggered up the stairs, almost fell near the top, struggled on, and grabbed the telephone receiver, heavy as a yellow brick. She had to squint to see white numbers on gray buttons.
She pushed 9.
Aimed her forefinger at the 1, missed, tried again, got it.
Her vision blurred, clarified. She poked toward the 1 again but lost her balance and staggered to one side. It saved her life. Ely, staggering himself, only grazed her head with the hammer. He shoved her down onto her back and straddled her. She saw him raising the hammer with both hands, and she raised her own in flimsy defense. She had one last thought:
I am going to die. But I didn’t quit
.
It came like an explosion, and then there was nothing at all.
28
The verger’s antechamber was dark. Henry Backer, in a black cassock and framed by the lightless doorway, stood invisible to Newberry and the congregation except for his gloves. Then he stepped into the light, carrying the shining new Bible in his white hands.
He walked toward the end of the presidential pew. When he was ten steps away, he made eye contact with President Laning. She smiled, and he smiled back. Newberry, seeing this, was delighted. It was the first time she had ever seen Henry Backer smile.
In fact, he was very afraid, but he armored himself with prayer:
I bring forth a fire from the midst of thee and it shall devour thee
.
At the end of the pew, Backer turned left and approached the high altar, where Bishop Newberry stood, having descended from the pulpit. He placed the Bible on the Holy Eucharist table before her. Newberry said the prayer of blessing, made the sign of the cross over the Bible, and nodded at Backer.
When he retrieved the Bible, Backer was still smiling. Newberry noted an odd radiance in his eyes, which seemed to be looking not at her but at some bright vision only he could see. He lifted the Bible and turned toward the president.
29
Hallie was dreaming that Stephen Redhorse was kissing her. His scent was sharp and sweet, like cinnamon, and rich with something close to wood smoke. She came awake and realized that it was not a dream. Someone
was
kissing her. And it wasn’t Stephen Redhorse. She pushed the man away. It took a second for her blurred vision to clear.
“Agent Luciano?”
He was beet red, either from embarrassment or the effort of CPR. “You had stopped breathing,” he panted, rocking back on his haunches. Another agent, the man she had seen in the Buick, was on her other side. “Agent Scott was doing compressions,” Luciano said. She saw that Scott, too, was blushing. She tried to sit up, and Luciano eased her back
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