The cloaked figure had been still and silent for an extended pause, and I’d been so wrapped in my own thoughts and feelings that I’d barely registered that fact, but now aware of it, I was suddenly afraid and filled with a sense of foreboding. Silence in a situation like this could only mean something bad was about to happen. I stared at the figure, bracing myself for the worst.
“So there you have it, the whole sorry tale. Well, actually, not all of it, but most of it. Enough of it for you to recognize the enormity of your part in it. That being so, what do you have to say for yourself?
I blinked slowly. The tears had eased a little, but the weight in my chest hadn’t. I felt like I was suffocating, or drowning. I was drowning in the weight of my own guilt.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.” It was little more than a pathetic croak.
“Hahahahaha.” The metallic, robotic laughter was one of the creepiest things I’d ever heard. “Sorry. You’re sorry? Is that some kind of sick fucking joke? Your bullying and abuse killed my twin brother. My identical twin. The other half of my heart. And you’re fucking sorry? I should blow your goddamned head off for insulting me like that.”
He moved rapidly, and jerkily, and before I knew it, I was staring down the barrel of a gun he’d obviously been concealing underneath his black robe. I sensed a smile of derision on his face, as he watched the look of terror spread across mine. I felt so helpless, and pinned in place, although I wasn’t chained or tied to the chair. The fact was that even with use of my legs, there was no way I was about to outrun a shotgun. And even if by some slim chance I could, how far would I get with my hands tied behind my back? It wasn’t like I could easily open doors or gates.
“Woah, what the fuck, man? What’s going on? This was never part of the plan.” The second metallic voice was hurried and panicked as he stepped toward the first figure, with his hands raised in surrender. The truth was, he’d been so still and quiet beside me, that I’d just about forgotten he was there.
“It was never part of your plan, you mean, but it was always front and center of mine.”
“What the fuck? Why didn’t you say anything? This is not what I fucking signed up for.”
“Why didn’t I say something? This is why.” He motioned between them with the muzzle of the gun. “I knew you’d pussy out of it, or try to talk me out of it, or try to call the cops or something. Oh, and by the way, on that note, don’t even think about it. There’s no cell reception here, which is by no means an accident.”
“Jesus Christ. Will you mind where you’re waving that fucking thing before you shoot someone. And wait, let me get this straight, you didn’t warn me of your plan to shoot someone, because you thought I’d try to stop you? Damned fucking straight I will. This is fucking insane.”
“What’s so insane about wanting retribution? Shouldn’t I want justice for my brother? For myself? For my entire family? You know better than anyone what losing Jules did to us. It fucking broke us in just about every way possible. My mom will never be the same, and while, on the face of it, my dad has moved on, he’s never gotten over it, either. And me, well, you know better than anyone how it’s screwed me up.”
“I’ll say. Which is why I can’t believe you wouldn’t have come to me with this before getting me involved.”
* * *
“So you’re saying that if I’d have approached you with this as the plan in the first place, you’d have been all for it, then?”
“Hell fucking no. Of course I wouldn’t. It’s fucking insanity. But I’m your brother, and I have your back, so I would have worked with you to find another solution that helped you get the closure you need, but wasn’t going to end up with anyone dead, or in prison, or both. I mean, what we did before you pulled the gun was enough to get us thrown in jail for a long time, as it is. That was a risk I was prepared to take, but this? This is a bridge too far, even for me.”
“Which is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
“Man, I truly can’t believe this shit. It’s like some kind of surreal dream where I’ve slipped into an Alice in Wonderland-esque altered reality. We’ve been tighter than brothers since day one—six fucking years—and in that time, when have I ever not had your back? Five of those years you’ve lived in our family home like just another one of the kids. We share the same fucking dorm, and share women, for Christ sakes. When have I ever given you reason to question my fucking loyalty, you ungrateful bastard? When?”
“When you fell in love with the person I hate most in the world.” The loaded words hung heavily in the air.
I’d been silently watching the exchange like a spectator at a championship tennis match. In the movies, while they were so myopically focused on their intense volley of words and emotions, I’d have snuck away into the murky darkness of the recesses of the warehouse, my absence unnoticed until it was too late.
But this was the real world, not a film, and in reality I’d been rooted to the spot, watching and listening to the heavy scene play out. Escape wasn’t an option for all the reasons I’d already thought through, and my harsh intake of breath at Robo Voice No. 1’s words seemed to remind them of my presence. Both turned sharply my way.
Robo Voice No. 2 spoke first. “I’m not—”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
“Jesus. I’m not in love with her. I do have feelings for her, but so do you, so you’re hardly in a position to accuse me of shit.”
“No I don’t. I have the remnants of a childish teenage infatuation, and though my dick might not have gotten the message, my brain definitely did.” What the fuck is going on? “She’s dead to me, and soon to be dead to the rest of the world.”
Chapter 25
Kane
Fox pulled off his mask with one hand and threw it to the ground, while with the other he kept the shotgun trained on us. I wasn’t sure which of us was more shocked—Rose or me—but it was definitely a close call.
“Don’t look so surprised. So the geeky fat kid whose life you made a living hell, who you hated, and who knew he should have hated you right back, had a secret boner for you the entire time. Call it Stockholm Syndrome or some shit, but every day you humiliated and belittled me, I fantasized about whisking you off into the sunset and living happily ever after. Can you imagine how much of a pathetic douche that made me feel after you were responsible for Jules’s death?”
“Jesus Christ, Fox, what the fuck are you doing?” I pointed to the discarded mask.
“Keep up, Kane, she’s had enough clues to work out who we are by now, mask or no mask. But, more importantly, she’s not going to be around to identify us. In fact, she’s not going to be around. Period.”
“Dammit, man, do you hear yourself? This is fucking insane, but I know you’re not. Far from it—you’re the smartest, most switched-on person I know, and if you just take a few moments to think rationally about all of this... I mean, this is an incredibly emotionally loaded situation for you, of course it is, and I totally get it.” The fact was, I wasn’t sure if I did get it anymore, but I could hardly tell Fox that.