Javier swings the gun toward where Vera is on the floor. I charge, catching him around the waist, and push him back through the door. We hit the floor with me on top. He strikes me in the head hard enough that my vision darkens. I reach out blindly, wrapping my hand around metal. We grapple for the gun. Behind me, another fight breaks out. All I can think about is Vera. This asshole’s strong, but I’m stronger. I straddle him, gaining the upper hand, and twist his hands toward his face.
Vera’s moan from the other room is all the boost I need. Pushing hard, I jam the gun under his chin. For a split second I see the terror he inflicted on so many innocents reflected in his black eyes, then BOOM. The top of his head blows off, splattering the wall behind him. I twist the gun from his hand and go back for Vera. The guy Vera hit is down, his head bleeding. Carter leans over Vera. She’s sprawled on her stomach. There’s a black mark on the back of her shirt. Blood oozes out around her.
I aim the gun at Carter. “Get the fuck away from her!”
He puts his palms up and backs away from Vera. “She needs an ambulance.”
“Call one!”
He reaches into his coat pocket. I pull the trigger before I know what I mean to do. Carter spins back. The gun he pulled drops with him. I look around. The marshal is on the floor next the couch. I didn’t see him before. I need a fucking phone. Digging in Carter’s pockets, I find his, but it’s fucking password-protected. I toss it and search the other guy. His lights up. I punch in 911 and go to Vera. She’s out. It’s bad. It’s so fucking bad.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
“She’s shot. I need an ambulance.”
“Sir, where are you?”
I glance around the apartment. “I don’t fucking know!”
“Can you find an address?”
“I can’t leave her.”
“Sir, I can’t help her if I don’t know where you are. Can you help me?”
I stagger to my feet and out the front door. A guy is coming up the stairs.
I point my gun at him. “Not another fucking step.”
He puts his hands up.
“Where the fuck are we?”
“No hablo Ingles.”
I search below, looking for something I can give the dispatcher. A small crowd of neighbors gathers. They shrink back when they see the gun in my hand. The guy on the stairs goes for the back of his waistband. I fire. He tumbles down the stairs. The neighbors scream and scatter.
“Sir!” the dispatcher demands. “Where are you?”
“I don’t fucking know. He was going for his gun. I had to shoot him.”
There’s some mumbling on the other line.
“Can’t you fucking trace my call?”
“We’re trying to find you.”
Sirens scream, but they sound too far away. There’s a number on the door, but it’s only the apartment number. I don’t know what the fuck street we’re on or even what city we’re in. I go back into the apartment, looking for something—some mail, a flier, anything—that will tell me where the fuck we are. There’s no landline. No fucking papers or notepads. Nothing.
Vera moans. I go to her. I’m shaking so fucking bad. There’s so much goddamned blood.
“Help her!” I scream into the phone. “Please. Somebody help her.”
“I need your location, sir.”
I drop the phone on the bed. So fucking useless. I lie down next to Vera. Her eyes are barely open, but I know she sees me. I take her hand. The sirens get louder and louder until it sounds like they’re in the next room.
“I love you,” I tell her. “You’re going to be okay. He’s dead. He can’t ever hurt you again. I love you.” I keep repeating it over and over.
Her eyelids close, but there’s a faint smile around her lips. I know she hears me. She can’t fucking die. She can’t.
There’s noise in the living room.
I start to get up to get her help.
“Freeze,” someone shouts. “Don’t move. Drop the weapon.”
I toss the gun away from me. “Please. You have to help her. She needs an ambulance.”
“Hands behind your head. Don’t move. Don’t fucking move.”
I do as I’m told. I don’t want to leave Vera. Three of them pile on top of me and cuff me. They’re rough, but I take it. They haul me up by my arms.
“Please. Help her. Don’t let her die,” I tell them as they’re hauling me out. “Vera! I love you!”
Outside, the crowd is back. A woman, talking to an officer, points at me coming down the stairs. At the bottom we have to navigate around the guy I shot. All I can think about is Vera. I beg and beg for an ambulance for her, but none come. They can’t just let her die. I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her.
They shove me into the back of a car and take off. I don’t give a fuck where they take me or what they do to me. All I care about is Vera.