Alright. I guess there's another cliffhanger.
His mind had been sluggish to react to the mortal threat.
Torn between surprise and shock, he reached up toward the wire, his fingers trying to get between the metal garrote and his throat to no avail.
Gasping involuntary, he stumbled back, giving in to the pressure from behind. Across the room, he could see David Forney step out from his hideout, a large butcher knife in his hand, presumably backup in case Erin McMillan's attempt on his life failed.
It didn't take long for the corners of his vision to shrink, as black spots appeared in front of his eyes, a clear warning that his window to save himself was closing fast.
As time seemed to stand still, Mike's voice emerged from somewhere in his mind, so clear as if the Lieutenant stood right next to him.
"You can try to back up and throw the attacker off balance, but your time window is limited. You could attempt to get your finger around the wire to take the pressure off your carotids, but the chances that you'll get there in time before passing out aren't good. The best way to get out of that predicament is not to get into it in the first place."
Throw his attacker off balance…it would prove to be difficult as his legs began to give out underneath him, but Steve knew it was his only chance.
As his vision turned uncomfortably blurry, he channeled the last bit of energy he had left to regain his footing, and staggered backwards.
With a surprised gasp, Erin tripped and fell to the ground, taking him down with her as they landed hard on the wooden floor, the wire around his throat loosening almost instantly, then disappearing altogether in the mess of arms and legs.
"Damn it, Erin, finish him!", came the furious remark, that made the blood freeze in his veins.
Instinctively reaching for his revolver, Steve rolled off to the side, his shoulder touching the woman's calf for a brief second as he tried to regain his balance with a homicidal David Forney approaching fast. Beyond the blue and purple dots obscuring his vision, Steve could see the reflection of the knife against the living room light, too close for comfort.
Feeling the cool wooden floor beneath his shoulder blades, Steve used his left arm to push himself up, then raised his revolver at the immediate threat, aiming for his center mass and hoping he'd hit the target.
The shot rang through the silence of the apartment, followed by a deep-throated grunt, as Forney stumbled backward, the knife sliding out of his hand and dropping to the floor. A dull thud ensued, as the man collapsed against the nearby couch, taking out the dining room table on his way down.
Drawing in a deep breath and trying to swallow, Steve coughed violently, straining to get onto his knees and elbows but temporary losing his balance again despite his mind urging him to keep up his guard and watch out for Erin.
Rapid footsteps signaled that she was up and moving, recovering from her failed murder attempt and undoubtedly ready to strike again. He regained his bearings in time to see the discarded metal wire carelessly lying on the hardwood floor, as Erin muttered a few expletives he couldn't understand.
Then, in an effort to immobilize him, she pulled on the large bookcase by the door, causing it to tilt and fall on top of him with a clunk that made the bones in his back scream in protest.
A couple encyclopedias missed his head and landed next to his face, the rest of the collection buried most of his upper body and disguised his gun, as Erin stepped over him and headed for the kitchen, interrupting her homicidal spree for a precious moment.
Using the few seconds of reprieve to get back on his feet, Steve fought against the weight on his back, surprised at the lack of strength in his arms and legs that even a deep breath couldn't cure.
In the kitchen, he could hear liquid being poured, the tell-tale fumes spreading through the apartment as Erin carelessly dumped an entire gas can worth of fuel on her furniture, counters and even her dead fiancé.
Steve turned around in time to see her light a match, the warning not to do it becoming stuck in his throat when the fumes turned the small flame into a wall of fire strong enough that it blew out one of the windows.
A deafening roar filled the apartment, followed by a scorching heat that spread throughout the large room like an erupting volcano, singeing the thin hairs on the back of his hand.
Steve ducked his head and curled up as best as possible, waiting until the initial shockwave passed them by, when he heard Erin scream out in pain.
Risking a brief glance back, he saw her stare at her hands in horror, exposed red skin signaling the severe burns she gave herself when lighting the apartment on fire, most of her long hair singed off, leaving nothing but a matted black mass on her head.
Then, as if to finally realize that what she had done, Erin stared back at him wide-eyed, moving her attention to the wire cable still lying on the floor and mouthing something he couldn't understand.
Fed by the oxygen of the broken window, the fire quickly grew in size, as smoke and toxic fumes began to fill the apartment, mixed with the odor of burning flesh.
With a renewed sense of urgency, Steve fought against the weight pinning him down, ignoring the flames up above slowly crawling down the walls, threatening to envelope everything in their path. The smoke made the inside of his throat burn, causing him to fight for every breath, the toxic fumes leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.
Suddenly he saw Erin's foot next to his face, stopping mid-motion to glance down at him.
Meeting the blue eyes that had suddenly turned cold and calculating, seeing her burnt lips and cheeks move to form a smile, Steve tensed up, preparing for another attempt at his life that never came.
Instead, she shook her head, seemingly fighting an internal battle of wills, before storming out the door without another word, leaving the young Inspector to fight for his life.
And determined he was.
Feeling the flames grow stronger by the second, and the heat intensifying to unbearable levels, Steve got on his elbows, a move that nearly cost him all of his energy; then turned around to brush as many of the books as possible off his injured back.
By now, the smoke coming out of the kitchen was turning black, as the flames began to eat away at the wallpaper and furniture of the apartment.
Using his legs, he slowly crawled out from underneath the book cabinet, wincing in pain as the unforgiving corners dug into the small of his back.
Haley.
The other Inspector had to have heard the gunshot and explosion. There was a good chance Dan was already on his way up, ready to help him out. The hopeful foresight was enough for him to keep up the fight as Steve slowly reappeared from the mess of books and crawled out the front door, staying on his hands and knees to escape as much of the toxic smoke as possible.
Down the hall, he could see other tenants fleeing the fire that was quickly engulfing the walls and ceiling of the long corridor, its strong flames swooshing overhead like a terrifying wave he couldn't escape.
Halfway to the next apartment door, his worn-out body screamed for a moment's reprieve and Steve let himself drop onto his side against the outer wall, trying to take a breath that brought no oxygen to his lungs. Glancing down, he could see his chest heaving frantically, his body fighting for air that was no longer available.
As his vision turned blurry once again, he rested his head on his outstretched forearm, closing his eyes and hoping that Dan was heading his way soon.
