"Put i' down!"
Michael had his pistol fully extended, but the girl wasn't listening.
"I saaaid, pud i' downna! Nowwa!"
The girl did not know what to do. She peered to the hallway leading away from the food court and then Michael fired. The girl dropped the large serrated knife, and was cowering to her knees. Michael had the weapon fixed on her head.
"Please," she moaned, but Michael wasn't in the mood for her apologies. He grabbed her by the hair, slamming her up against the wall. She gave a smothered yelp as he held her against the wall aside the Chipotle counter. "Please," she whimpered. "I didn't mean it."
Michael didn't have time for this. He was looking for that stupid bastard that had nearly killed him. The driver had to be in here somewhere. This empty mall.
Where was that driver?
"Where i' he!?" Michael roared.
The girl shook her head. "W-who?"
Michael was losing his patience. This girl thought she could just lie her way out of this one? Did she think he was born yesterday? Michael was not stupid. He knew this girl was aiding and abetting the driver; she could feign ignorance all she wanted. Teenage girls, always thinking they could act innocent and get themselves out of trouble...
He held her mushed cheeks against the wall.
"Where i' he?"
The girl was practically in hysterics. Michael held the gun into the air, firing once, twice, thrice. God, he hated the people of Denver.
"Where i' he? Where i' he? Where i' he? Where is he?"
How many times did he have to say it? This girl clearly thought she was somethin, cuz she didn't respect the uniform at all. Michael didn't understand these prissy types, thinking they were entitled to anything. Why did people always put him in this position? He was a nice guy, he really was. But he had no choice.
Taking a second's pause, he slammed the butt of the gun into her head.
###
"What are you doing?"
The police officer looked up at Tyler's question. Audrey was spilled at the cop’s feet, hands covering her face. She looked like Tyler had seen her before, several times; when she would get black-out drunk.
But the police officer was young. And Tyler recognized him. The cop was holding up his hand, his voice coming in the same discretionary tone from the night before when they had stood beside the shattered windows of the 6th street warehouse:
"Where is he?"
Tyler stared. There was red crumbles all about the man's face, and his uniform was torn, and his left eye bruised like a black hole. Fragments of glass were literally sticking out of his flesh. Tyler took a breath. The guy looked like freakin Pinhead.
Tyler knew this guy was from the night before. But he was surely fucked up. Something had attacked him. But how the hell was he still going? By now the bleed-out should have weakened him enough to the point of passing out.
"What happened to you?" Tyler heard himself say, though he didn't mean to sound nearly so caring.
The police officer looked up with his dazed eyes. The pupils were so small, they were practically gone. The iris had also decreased, much like Dirby's at Seven-Eleven. The cop grumbled something.
Tyler crouched, putting a hand to Audrey's head. There was a smudge of blood on the back. He jumped back up, his face tense as he stared into those bleary eyes of the familiar officer.
"What did you do to my girlfriend, man? What the hell did you do?"
The cop pressed the gun into Tyler's chest. "Stop iiit," he slurred. He stumbled back a step, his eyes rolling slightly into his skull, but then they resurfaced and he was, still conscious, still alive. He tapped the weapon on Tyler's side.
"Get on 'a.. ground... Denver."
Tyler didn't budge. "What are you talking about?" Turning away, he got down and nudged Audrey with his hands, forcefully now. She mumbled, but she was woozy. Tyler slowly brought her to an Indian-style sit on the floor.
"Ya go'd.. blood inur ears..." came the cop's voice, but Tyler didn't look up. He was whispering in his girlfriend's face. The hair was tumbled all about her features—so dirty and rough now, as if she had returned from years living feral with the wolves. But her eyes were closed. Her eyes, whether or not they too had changed, Tyler could not see. He brought his thumb on the sweaty patch of flesh below her eyes.
Her skin was ice cold.
"Look at me, Audrey."
"Giddur ass on 'a ground, Denver."
Tyler felt the barrel of the gun against the back of his skull. He slowly raised his arms into the air, showing that he was, in fact, unarmed. Though he could spot the long knife at Audrey's side. When had she gotten the knife?
Gamely, the cop kicked the knife away. The blade skittered across the open mall, out of any of their reaches. The pistol was still pressed firmly to the back of his skull, and he heard the delirious officer muttering something in a pleased, jerky voice.
When the gun pulled away, Tyler turned to face the bloodied cop. Audrey was still sitting Indian-style, her spread fingers keeping her steady on the floor. Her eyes were still closed, and she was still alive. Tyler sat right by her side as he extended his hand across her face. "You okay, babe?"
The cop was teetering on his feet, gun now clutched, barely, in his fingers. Tyler could feel the guy's glassy eyes on him and Audrey, but it didn't matter. This guy was a goner. There was no way he would last much longer—he was half-dead already. Tyler shot a quick glimpse to the officer, that man from the night before, and nodded. He didn't know why he nodded, but it seemed like the right thing to do.
The cop seemed to respond. His eyes widened, only momentarily, and then he was narrowing those gruesome eyes.
"Wh'ad you do wi' her?"
Tyler raised an eyebrow at the question. "Who?"
The cop chuckled, but it was the laugh of a man who knew not why he was laughing. He leaned to his left foot, tapping the gun to his hip. He smiled. He frowned. And then he pointed the pistol at Tyler's head. Tyler saw the trigger tighten.
"Wh'ad you do wi' her? M' girlfrien... Wherez.. Kate?"
Tyler was staring at him. What the hell was this guy talking about? What the hell was Tyler supposed to know about his girlfriend? The man was swaying heavily on his feet now, looking like at any minute he'd topple. Somehow, the gun was still in his clutches. And somehow, that gun was still fixed on Tyler's head.
"I don't know anything!" Tyler screamed. Seconds ago he had been practically feeling sorry for this guy and his wounds. Now he wanted nothing more than to see him die. This cop, this "officer of the law," he was going insane.
"I don't know anything, man, I swear," Tyler said more calmly. He slowly rose from his sitting position, hands held out to show that he was still unarmed. The cop's fingers tightened even more on the trigger. How much tighter could his grasp get, thought Tyler. The weapon was going to fire any second now, intentionally or not.
"Easy... easy..." Tyler whispered. The cop took a heavy step to his right, catching his weight on that leg before shaking his head and collecting his balance. He placed the gun against Tyler's head.
"Do'n... tell me wh'ad... to do."
Tyler breathed hard. The finger was trembling on that strung trigger; the barrel of the gun was so smooth, so frigid. Tyler could see the clock ticking by, with every gush of blood through his veins; the nanoseconds and milliseconds itching toward that fatal finish. Time was moving too quick. Tyler had to act now. Or he would die.
But before Tyler could issue a response, there was the glint of metal. An oversized knife jerked once across the spread of the officer's Adam's apple. A spurt of blood. And then he tumbled, as if snipped from a string.
Tyler froze, his heart hammering against his ribs.
And that's when Barkly Mendbrook stepped forward. His shirt was stained with sweat. His pupils were pinned. He was skinny, pasty; winded. As he slid the knife back into the very Jansport backpack he had worn that morning, the once-heavy classmate gave a nod.
And then he smiled.