The Game Part 8
Elliot’s pace slowed. Stopped. Shock, fear, anger filled his being. His heart thudded in his chest. Trying to burst free from its confines. Here he was. The man who had answered the door that faithful night. The man he thought was Maggie’s lover. The man who murdered the person he loved more than anything. Here he was. Coming straight for him. Elliot stood in the center of the sidewalk. People followed around him like water does a rock in a stream. The man stopped, smiled and said, “Goodbye, Elliot.” Elliott was confused at first, followed by a burning yet cold sensation grew in his abdomen. Elliot looked down as the man moved on. Elliot’s first thought was to reach out, grab him before he passed. But the blood pouring from midsection took precedence. Followed by screams as people around him saw that Elliot’s insides started to come free from the body. How intestines filled the gaping wound.
Elliot fell to his knees. The night’s festivities turned dark as people unsure of what was going on stepped back from the scene that was unfolding. Some screamed for someone to get help. Others stared in disbelief. While others ran in fear that they could be next. Then there was the man with a gun in his hand. Harvey ran up to Elliott. He could see right away that there was nothing he could do for him.
Harvey knelt down next to Elliot, placing his free hand on his shoulder as he spoke, “Hang in there, kid, help is on the way. You’re going to be okay.”
Elliot lifted his gaze to meet Harvey’s. “Promise me, Harvey,” he said, weakly. “Promise me... you get the son... of a bitch.”
“Count on it.”
“Good. Good. I’m... I’m going to just sit here... wait for... and wait for Maggie...”
The whole time, from the point where the bastard he was chasing crossed the intersection until now, Harvey tracked him.
Harvey crashed through a small private door that was between a clothing boutique and coffee bar, the same way he had a hundred other times, in other combat zones. His Colt 911 at the ready. Using an old trick he had learned from a Green Beret, who went by the name AWOL, where you keep your index finger pointed straight along the side of the pistol using the middle finger for the trigger. “The round goes where you point,” said AWOL. “You have a greater chance to hit your target in quick motion, because it’s more natural to point with your finger at a noise or figure than it is to use the pistol. Muscle memory makes you want to aim, and if you don’t, you will almost miss every time.”
There wasn’t much beyond the door. Just a short, narrow walkway that led to a staircase. Harvey could see at the top another door. One that was open. Harvey crept up the steps as quietly and quickly as possible. The shocked screams and cries from the chaos on the street receded behind him, muffled noise now. No one followed him in. Harvey figured nobody wanted too. Unsure who he was other than some dude with a gun.
Just before he reached the top, Harvey was able to peer through the door from the stairwell. The door itself had a large pane of fogged glass. Etched upon it read Warehouse Emporium. The room beyond was open and uncluttered. If this was some sort of warehouse space it didn’t seem to be storing anything. A thousand things ran through Harvey’s mind. Was this an actual business or his place to hide; where there any other people; how many blind spots; how many points of egress? The list could go on for eternity. Harvey knew at times like this you just had to take a leap of faith. And this was one of those times. Sure he could wait for the uniformed officers that were definitely en route. Except that then he surely would have to explain what was going on, possibly have to hold of Ellis to corroborate his story. Meanwhile, he’s more than likely in custody, and the killer he has been chasing, the killer of Maggie and Elliot and who knows how many more, gets away. Disappearing into the shadows. That was an outcome that he could not and would not accept. Harvey took a deep breath and entered the unknown.
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