Page 61 of Count Down

“Thanks,” I smile at him. That’s a relief. I’m not sure why they didn’t come down to the lobby for intermission. But at least they came to the show.

Backstage, I find Lexi again. She doesn’t say anything, but raises her eyebrows at me.

“I didn’t see Luca,” I tell her. Lexi keeps her face still and doesn’t react. I know she’s worried but she doesn’t want to show it. “I didn’t see my parents either. But they picked up their tickets.”

Lexi nods.

“Tell me more about how you’re going to fix my piece,” I say.

Lexi grins. “How do you feel about audience participation?” She asks.

“I hate it,” I reply.

“Well, it’s the keystone of any true masterpiece. First, we’ve got to find that lighting director and let him know his cue for bringing up the house lights…”

I never thought I’d appreciate Lexi’s stupid humor so much. The distraction is helpful, but it’s not just that. She’s here for me. She’s supporting me, in her way. And right now, it’s more than I could ever ask of her.

43

LUCA

I check my watch.It’s almost 8. Gina’s showcase is probably half over. The sun has just started showing signs of setting.

Another group of dirt bikes ride down the street. Four of them this time. I think it’s the same group, but they’ve added another rider.

I’m normally really patient with operations like this. But it seems to drag on and on. I’m doing my best to stay focused. It’s dangerous if I get distracted.

One of the doors to Mary’s opens. I look through my scope. A man lights a cigarette when he gets outside. It’s not Dolan. The guy scratches his balls and walks off down the road.

The air begins to cool slightly. It’s not cold, but I take my cap out of my bag and put it on. It’s more to disguise my hair than to keep me warm.

The same door opens again. This time two men walk out. One of them is fat and balding, in his 60s. The other has short salt and pepper hair, neatly trimmed. It’s Cormac Dolan. I hear Dolan laugh heartily at something the other man said.

I pull up my rifle and look down the scope. The older man is blocking me from getting a clear view of Dolan. I can’t shoot through him. Maybe if I had the armor piercing bullets I could. Hollow points expand on impact and fragment within the body.

I track the men as they slowly walk toward Dolan’s car. They’re in no hurry, but the fat man isn’t getting out of the way.

I need to get this in one shot. Every sniper in the world knows you don’t take a shot unless you know it’s going to kill. I need one shot at Dolan. One that I’m sure will kill him.

The two men stand by Dolan’s car. The fat man still perfectly blocking my view. I need to get the shot before Dolan gets in his car. I keep my breath slow and steady, readying myself for the shot.

I hear the door of Mary’s open again, but I keep my sights on Dolan.

He takes one step back toward Mary’s. It’s just enough.

I squeeze the trigger. The rifle makes a solid THWAP. Then Dolan drops to the ground. A pool of blood growing around him on the sidewalk.

I lower the rifle and watch just a second more to make sure it’s a kill.

I hear a girl scream and I look back toward the door. A young, red-headed girl. Too young to be in a tavern. Maybe 17 or 18.

“FATHER!” She screams and runs toward him.

The fat man glances around in my direction, and I duck under the wall. I stash the rifle hastily into my duffle bag and sprint across the rooftops ducking low while still moving as quickly as I can.

When I get to the narrow alley way, I lower myself down. In my haste, I‘m half crawling back down between the walls, half sliding. The brick and grout tear at my hands as parts of the old wall crumble and drop below me.

I make it down to the first floor and then drop to the ground in the alley. It’s a harder landing than I expect and it takes me a second to steady myself before I climb over the chain-link gate and back out the sidewalk.

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