Falling by T.J. Newman
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE SOUND OF A DISTANTgunshot from the other side of the screen hung in the air of the cockpit. Bill and Ben leaned forward, desperation seizing them both.
“Mommy!”
With a hiss, Bill ripped off his oxygen mask. The chances that enough gas had leaked under the door to hurt him was minimal—and in the moment he didn’t care. Bill clutched the sides of the laptop. “Buddy. It’s okay. I’m here,” he said.
The boy’s wet sniffles filled the cockpit. “Mommy. Mommy, please.”
Something slammed against the van. The children screamed and the pilots jumped.
“Scott! Mommy’s here,” said Carrie’s muffled voice. “Babies, Mommy’s here.”
Sounds of metal striking metal came from outside the van, the screen jiggling in response to each blow. Both Carrie and Scott were screaming until suddenly the van doors flew open and yellow light flooded in. A blurred figure jumped into the van, kicking the phone and obscuring the camera’s view.
“It’s okay,” Carrie said over and over as she wept. “It’s all going to be okay.”
The suspect had a head start but he was wounded and Theo was the faster runner.
Theo holstered his gun. No matter what happened, Theo could not shoot while they were both moving. The man was covered in explosives. Chasing him down the beach, Theo closed in little by little until he was close enough to touch him. With a final burst of speed, he leapt onto the suspect’s back, the man collapsing under the weight as they both tumbled to the ground. White sand flew into the air and stuck to their skin as the men grappled for control despite each of their physical limitations. Arms and legs thrashed in a blitz of blood and pain.
The suspect rolled into Theo to deliver a punch, leaving his own stomach exposed. Theo saw the opportunity and jabbed his elbow into the man’s torso, the blow striking the suspect’s gut right below the ribs. The man doubled over with a grunt.
Out of the corner of his eye, still far in the distance, Theo saw the backup agents running toward them, the headlamps on their helmets jostling light all over the beach.
Rolling onto his back, Theo pulled the man on top of him, wrapping his left leg over the suspect’s waist. Slipping his left foot under his right knee, Theo locked the suspect’s body into place before wrapping his arms in a figure-eight around the suspect’s neck. The suspect was immobilized in a rear naked chokehold before he even knew what was happening. The suspect swatted at Theo’s arms, but beyond that he couldn’t move.
Theo’s sling must have come off completely at some point in the fight, but he hadn’t noticed. A cool numbness had replaced the incessant throb of pain he’d felt in his arm all day, and he assumed he was in an adrenaline-fueled state of shock.
The backup agents were getting closer, but as they approached, Theo could see their drawn guns.
“Don’t shoot!” Theo screamed.
He squinted in the beams of their bobbing headlamps.
Distracted, Theo didn’t notice the suspect grabbing at the sand. With a full hand, the man threw it into Theo’s face, blinding him. Theo blinked furiously while swinging his arms around, trying to feel for the suspect.
“Get on the ground! Get on the ground!”
The shouts of the other agents echoed closer, almost there.
“Hold!” one of the agents screamed over the rest, just as Theo sensed them beside him. Backup was here and the suspect was outnumbered. But the panic in the agent’s voice told Theo that something was very wrong.
Theo’s eyes watered profusely but gradually his vision was coming into focus. Pulling at his waist, Theo untucked his shirt to wipe his eyes clean. His hand grazed his holster.
It was empty.
His vision sharpened and Theo saw the danger for himself.
Five FBI agents, minus himself, stood with guns drawn in front of the suspect.
The suspect faced them, pointing Theo’s gun directly at the suicide vest.
Theo’s stomach dropped. If the man pulled the trigger, every one of them was dead.
“Put down the gun and we’ll bring you in without further harm,” Theo said, his voice far more steady than he felt.
“Further harm,” the suspect repeated, a small smile on his lips.
“That’s right,” Theo said. “You have my word.”
The man chuckled, his increasingly crazy smile showing bloody teeth. His weight slumped to the right, favoring his left leg, the one Theo had shot. He turned his head to the ocean for a moment before looking up at the stars with a deep, relaxed inhale. “Your word…” he said. “You know, where I come from, we have a saying. ‘No friend but the mountains.’ Do you know what that means?”
“I do not know what that means,” Theo said slowly. “But why don’t you put down the gun and we can talk about it.”
The man laughed. He mumbled something under his breath.
“Sorry?” Theo said.
The man’s face erupted with rage and he began to scream, “I get why you’re doing this but it doesn’t justify what you’re doing!” He shouted it again and again until his voice grew hoarse. Tears had filled his eyes and they began streaming down his face.
Theo didn’t reply. No one did.
The suspect looked around at the agents and then down at the vest he wore and the gun in his hand. It seemed to be dawning on him for the first time where he was, what was happening. A look of regret flashed across his face, just for a moment, before he seemed to mentally pivot again, like something else had just occurred to him. He laughed again, but not in the same maniacal way. It was a soft, disbelieving huff.
“All this, and I’m the one with a choice.”
His brow furrowed as he considered the situation. After a moment, he let out an amused sigh. He looked up, his eyes locking onto the stars, and carefully placed the barrel of the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger.