Chris tries to get by us again, and I shove him in the chest. Not that it does much good—it’s like shoving a mountain. But it sure makes him mad.
He takes a swing at me, but I duck, coming up under his punch. With my hands in fists, I slam a quick jab into his side. He tries to grab me, but I dart away, out of his reach.
Adam’s yelling something, but my focus has narrowed to just Chris and his massive, tattooed arms. He’s a big guy, but I’m small and quick. I just have to make sure he doesn’t hit me.
That thought doesn’t last long. Chris swings at my gut and I dodge it, only to be punched in the face a second later. Everything goes black and then I’m on my knees somehow, my vision blurry. My face throbs with heat and pain, but I see Chris standing over me.
I reach around, hands shaking, and open the pouch on the side of my backpack. Then the gun is in my hand, pointed at Chris. “Stay back!” I yell.
“What the…” Chris freezes. “Where the hell did you get that?”
“It was in my backpack.” The gun wobbles in my grip, but I don’t lower it. “Get back!”
“Why would they give you a gun?” Adam asks. He looks more scared of me holding the gun than he did of Chris a minute ago.
“I don’t know!”
Chris stares at me, and I prepare myself in case he’s about to attack again. My finger twitches on the trigger. We lock eyes for a minute, an invisible cord of tension connecting us, the threat of violence heavy in the air. Finally the moment passes and he steps back, his shoulders slumping.
“I was gonna propose to Shawnda as soon as we got paid. She told me last week she’s pregnant. That’s why I took this job.” He stares at the ground. “I just wanted to be a good father.”
I lower the gun, hands shaking. I can’t hate him now that I know he’s doing all this for his family. It’s more than Papá ever did for me.
“We’re going to stop this.” I have to believe it, or I might as well turn the gun on myself right now.
Chris nods. “Sorry about…” He gestures at his face. “All that.”
I struggle to my feet and he holds out a hand to help me up. I take it and then wipe my burning nose with the back of my jacket. Red blood mixes with the rain, which has slowed to a trickle now.
I put the gun away in my backpack. “I wouldn’t have shot you, you know.”
“No shit,” he says with a faint grin.
I can’t help but let out a small laugh. This whole situation is just so messed up.
The other three watch us like we’re crazy, but I know something’s changed between me and Chris. We understand each other now, in a way only people who have fought each other can. My face still throbs, but he didn’t actually hit me that hard. I’ve been in worse fights. Chris turns to Trent and apologizes, and the two slap each other on the back.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say. Even with the rain, we’re too visible, too exposed standing out in the open like this. The police might still be looking for us.
“Guys.” Adam stares at the street. “The taxi is gone.”
“Oh yeah,” Trent says. “It asked for more money while you were in there. It probably ran out and drove off.”
Back at the apartment building, I see Shawnda’s face at the window, glaring at us. And then I hear the sirens in the distance.
06:34
I whip my head around, trying to gauge how close they are. We take off running, down rain-slicked sidewalks, past beat-up apartments and stores, in the opposite direction of the sirens. For a few minutes all I know is the feel of my legs pumping, my heart racing, and water splattering against my face.
“Under here,” Adam says when we can no longer hear the sirens. The five of us duck under the awning of a store that’s been closed down, that once sold candles or bath lotions or something. It provides shelter from the rain but not much else.
I lean against the front window, trying to catch my breath. My face still aches, and I’d give just about anything for dry clothes right now. But worst of all, everything Jasmine and Shawnda said replays in my head.
“We’re all dead,” Zoe whispers, tugging on the strings of her hood. “Dead, dead, dead.”