As Charlie tried to complete his turn, the bullet left Gillian's gun with a violent bang; it whistled through the dusty air. There was a sound as if air were being sucked in. A spray of blood spurted from Charlie's shoulder blade just as the broom caught Gillian's hand and sent the gun under the metal pegs. Charlie screamed. A stab of intense pain shot up her forearm to her elbow.
Feeling his left arm go numb, he gripped the broom in his right fist and clenched it hard to ease the pain. Gillian reached over to try and retrieve the gun from him, but Charlie wasn't going to let her get that far. Not after everything that had happened. With adrenaline coursing through his veins, he lifted the broom over his head and lowered it vertically to the ground.
Quickly out of the way, Gillian fell backward against one of the rows of costumes and tripped on the bar below. As he stumbled through the costumes, Charlie's broomstick smacked against the floor again cement. Feeling him start to get dizzy he tried to raise the stick to deliver another blow, but his strength left him. He gasped for air. His shoulder was dead to one side, pulsing with his own pulse. Seeing the pained expression on Charlie's face, Gillian flung both legs forward and knocked the costumes over. Dozens of heads—from Mickey to Goofy to Pluto—rolled across the floor as the metal hanger fell between them.
Before Charlie had time to react, Gillian was on her feet and launched herself into the middle of the costumes. He tackled Charlie at waist level and all the air drained from his lungs. Impulse carried them both against a laundry cart that someone had left against the far wall. Gillian didn't want to give up the fight; She smacked Charlie's lower back against the metal rim of the cart, but at the speed they were moving—as if they were a seesaw—they both went over the edge and fell inside.
In the middle of the somersault, however, the sum of their weight sent the cart being thrown forward, causing Charlie to fall heavily to the ground. He landed on his back and his head hit the concrete hard. Gillian fell right on top of him and a pile of brightly colored costumes draped over her shoulders.
Straddling Charlie's chest, Gillian brought her fingertips together like a makeshift dagger and aimed at the gaping wound on Charlie's shoulder.
"You won't faint," she warned him. She raised her arm to...
From the hangar came the sound of a detonation clearly. A shot. The echo rippled through the metal walls of the warehouse.
Gillian, startled, turned around.
sound direction. It was all Charlie needed. Sitting up, she lashed out with her fist and caught Gillian on the back of her neck. When she lost her balance, Charlie rolled onto her stomach. A few feet away, just beyond the heads of the famous people resting on the ground, she discovered the gun under the overturned hanger. Dragging herself on her elbows she tried to catch up, but Gillian was still on her back. She felt from behind her an abrupt shift in her weight. An orange and black blur exploded in front of him. And before she realized what was happening, something hairy wrapped itself around her neck. Pulling on the Tiger's tail as if it were the reins of a horse, Gillian leaned back as far as she could.
Gasping for air, Charlie wrapped his hands around her neck, trying to get his fingers under the train of her costume. It was then that she discovered the wire. It was curved on the inside of the tail, a thin spring of wire. Most of the time that contraption managed to convince the children that the Tiger could really jump. Today, as Gillian held it in her hands and yanked hard, the wire plunged deep into Charlie's throat.
Arching up onto her stomach and clawing desperately at her own neck, Charlie managed to turn, but Gillian had no intention of releasing her grip. The more she squirmed, the harder she pulled, and the harder it was for Charlie to breathe. Choking from the pressure of the wire, she felt blood rush to her face. She gritted her teeth, trying to get one last breath of air. But there was no air. Through her throat, the wire began to cut into her Adam's apple.
Blood began to flow from her nose, and a dark red thread joined the one already on her lip. Ahead of him, gray dots floated in space. But even with her blurry vision…even with Gillian riding on her back…she couldn't shake the mental image of Oliver. Or his mother. Regaining consciousness, Charlie released the wire around his neck. He had to cut some strings.
He could still see Gillian's gun past Mickey and Pluto's heads. He was too far away. But there was something else that was closer. With one last thrust of his good arm, Charlie managed to catch the leather strap attached to the inside of Pluto's head, and twisted with a great effort until he was propped on his side. The wire kept digging into his throat. This part would hurt unbearably, of that there was no doubt. Ignoring the burning sensation in his throat, he managed to twist around, grabbing the leather leash, and hurled Pluto's head at Gillian. Describing a sharp curve in the air, her huge head struck the side of her face like a twelve-pound cannonball and hurled her violently to the ground.
When Charlie rolled onto her back, she let go of Tigre's tail, but didn't give up.
"You're a dead man!" she roared, as Charlie coughed as his lungs filled with air again. Gillian got up quickly. She was trying to regain her balance, just like Charlie. But he couldn't catch his breath. Bent over and in terrible pain in his shoulder, he could barely stand on his feet, much less withstand another attack. A thin trickle of blood trickled from Gillian's nose. You start to feel it, right? she asked.
Charlie was breathing heavily with his mouth wide open. He knew he couldn't take another hit.
Not knowing very well what to do, he thought about running away... he looked for the door and then... No. he was already good enough to run away.
He planted his feet hard on the concrete, turned to Gillian, and gripped the leather strap tightly. Gillian ran towards him in a fit of rage. Charlie remained motionless in her place and braced his arm behind her back. He narrowed his eyes. He was holding the leash so tightly that her nails dug into his palm. Not yet, not yet... he counted to himself. Gillian was almost on him now. "Now!"
Charlie brought his back leg forward, put his entire body weight on it, and delivered the blow. Like an ancient iron mace on a chain, the six-pound head tore through the air. It hit Gillian's ear with a thud. The graphite head shattered on impact, tearing a long fissure through Pluto's eyes and knocking down
to Gillian. She landed hard on the concrete floor at Charlie's feet. This time, she didn't get up. But when Charlie could finally breathe, she felt a familiar buzz in her chest. Staggering forward, she dropped the leather strap from her. She had to. She had no strength to hold it. Pluto's head hit the concrete floor and Charlie stumbled to the side of her as a needle of pain pierced her heart.
She fell onto one of the hangers, causing another group of costumes to fall to the floor. Her heart was bubbling and beating from her. It was as if she had a bag of worms moving inside her chest. Not now... please... she implored. She turned to run after Oliver, grabbing at the pegs, and she made her way through the narrow corridor, past the wooden screen. The worms multiplied inside her chest and gathered around her trachea.
"Hhhh..." A high-pitched whistle rose through her throat. Hhhhhh…" Charlie gasped for air as her heartbeat quickened and then began pounding against her ribs. Faster and faster, she had a drum on her chest. She closed her eyes...she checked the pulse in her neck...
"Holy God..."
He was on a rampage...
"Ollie..." she called out, barely a voice.
—. Ollie!
Staggering along the main hallway, he crashed into the door and put his hand on the knob, throwing it open. All he had to do was walk through it. She leaned against the wall and tried to push herself forward. He seemed so close, but somehow, she kept pulling away... he felt the back of his neck drenched with sweat. The worms writhed, digging and clenching like a fist around her heart. Charlie tried to breathe, but he couldn't. Through the door he caught a glimpse of Oliver and Shep fighting. "Shep!" He now he understood that it was a dream. However, as Charlie stared at the scene before him… Ollie… Ollie had the better of it. Tears filled his eyes as Ollie and Shep disappeared from the frame. «You have caught them, her...» The clenched fist, glued to the heart. His entire face contorted to resist the pressure. He was about to explode. And then... as he fell to his knees... he exploded.
"Ollie..." he stammered himself with one last asthmatic gasp. He tried to add a goodbye but, as his face hit the concrete, the words didn't come from his lips.
"Oliver, I'm not going to ask you again," Shep warns. Where the hell is my money?
I stumble back from the last hit, stepping away from the floats and falling toward the side wall.
Behind me there is practically no space left. I stagger through the minefield of hulahop hoops, emcee hats, and dozens of other knick-knacks that are piled on the floor, searching for something…anything…that I can use as a weapon. The only thing I have within easy reach is an ornate chandelier, but when I pick it up, it weighs less than a pound—it's all foam. I almost forget it. Disney World.
Shep runs after me, violently pushing aside everything he finds in his path, and he grabs me by the lapels.
"This is your last chance," he warns me, his hot breath an inch from my face. Where. This. My. Money?
My head is ringing like it's a fire station. I can barely move it from one side to the other.
"Die, you cocksucker." You will never get a single penny.
Out of his mind, Shep violently throws me onto a huge rocking horse. My head bumps against the wooden frame, but he doesn't give up.
"I'm sorry, Oliver. But I haven't heard what you said.
-Die...
A second later, spinning me around like a top, he flings me face-first into a huge jack-in-the-box spring doll. The blow and an unpleasant noise confirm that my nose has just been broken.
"Do you want to try again?" Shep asks, now holding me tightly by the back of the neck.
I look at him with my only proper eye. My voice comes out weakly.
—Die...
Roaring like an animal, he spins me around and throws me against a popcorn cart. I reach out awkwardly with my hands to protect my face, but I'm going too fast. I crash into the glass, and when it shatters, the splinters cut my hands deep. Lying on my stomach inside the cart, I see a triangular shard of glass just above the chest. On one side the border is opaque and is attached to the edge of the trolley.
Shep grabs my legs and pulls me out. Shards of glass tear the skin on my stomach. Ignoring the pain, I reach out for the fragment I've seen earlier. I grip him so tightly he nearly slices my palm open. And just as my feet make contact with the ground again—before Shep knows what's happening—I spin around quickly and ram the shard of glass into his stomach.
His face turns white and he puts his hands to his stomach, looking at the bright blood that wets his hands. You can't believe it.
"Son of a…" He looks up. You're dead...dead...
She reaches inside her jacket and looks for his gun. I attack again and make a cut at the height of the wrist. He howls in pain; he is unable to hold her. The gun falls to the ground and I kick it under the rocking horse. I'm not giving it another chance. He has eyes on fire. And like he's a wounded bear, Shep lunges forward for my neck. I move the crystal shard in front of me and catch him in the chest. The edges have bruised my hand and my hand is soaked with blood, but there is no question who is getting the worst of this fight. For the first time, Shep staggers. When he approaches again, I swing with what little strength I still have left. For all that he has done... all that he has made us suffer; I ignore the blood, bury the consequences and prepare to strike...
I hear a loud gasp coming from the room that communicates with the adjoining ship. I stand paralyzed. I know that sound like myself. To my left, inside the room.
Charlie clutches his chest with both hands and tries to support himself against the wall to keep from falling over.
"Ollie…" he stammers with his mouth wide open. It's all he manages to say. Gasping for air, he falls to the ground. I turn around for two seconds. But for Shep it's a lifetime.
The moment he starts to turn me around, he lunges at me. My chest sinks as he punches me with both fists like I'm a carnival doll. When I hit the concrete I take a hard blow to the kidneys. Shep snatches the glass from my hands, cutting me even deeper.
I cry out in pain but Shep doesn't flinch. He no longer has anything to say. He sits on my chest and nullifies any movement of my arms by pressing his knees hard on them. I struggle furiously and try to free my arms. But it weighs too much. I look into his eyes but it's as if there was no one there. Shep doesn't care anymore. Not me... not the tapes... not even the money.
Digging his knees into my biceps, he raises the glass blade like a guillotine. His eyes don't leave my neck. I'm not getting out of this alive. I whisper an apology to Charlie. And for my mother. He closed his eyes and braced himself for impact.
But what I hear next is a gunshot. Then two more in quick succession. I open my eyes just to see the shells go through Shep's chest. His body jerks violently from the impacts. Blood gushes from his mouth. The sheet of glass falls from his hand and shatters on the hard concrete. Then, as his arm falls to the side of his body, Shep staggers slightly and falls backwards.
Following the direction of the sound, I trace its trajectory. Then I see her, sitting on the floor. Not unconscious... Wake up... Joey... By the light shining behind her, I only see the shadow of her. And the trickle of smoke coming from the barrel of her gun.
She gets up, runs to the wall, and slams the butt of the gun against the glass of the fire alarm. A shrill sound breaks the silence, and a minute later, I hear sirens in the distance. Joey runs over to where my brother lies. My God...
"Charlie!" -shout-. Charlie! I try to get up but it's like my arm is on fire. I can't move my fingers. My whole body trembles.
Half a dozen Disney security guards rush through the front door of the warehouse. They all head towards me; Joey stays with my brother.
"Please, sir, he doesn't move," one of the guards says, grabbing my shoulders to stop me from shaking. Four other guards lean in next to Charlie, preventing me from seeing what's happening.
-I can not see him! Let me see him! he yelled, craning his neck. Nobody moves. Now everyone is focused on Shep's lifeless body.
"He has ventricular tachycardia!" He Needs Mexiletine! I yell in Joey's direction. She's giving him a cardiac massage, but the more I agitate, the more she starts to spin the room. Everyone spins and jumps sideways. My lifeless arm stretches like a rubber band above my head. The guard says something, but all I hear is a static discharge. No, don't faint, I tell myself. I look up at the ceiling. It's too late. Life turns black and white, then quickly turns to gray.
- He is fine? I want to know if she is alright! I scream with all my little strength.
Another dozen guards enter the warehouse. They all scream. And as the gray fades to a deep, lifeless black, I get no response.