Author's Note: I've upgraded the rating, just to be safe. Thanks so much to everyone who has left reviews, and thanks for waiting through the fifteen cliffhangers.
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My father glances down at him, back up at Vaughn, and across to me. And fires.
Salencia jerks back and slumps to the ground, blood pouring from the exit wound on his left temple. Vaughn twists away, spattered with blood and gray matter, letting the hand with the knife fall back and away from his neck.
Sark raises his gun and fires. The shot is wild, whizzing past Dad's head into the darkness. Vaughn jumps forward, grabbing Sark's wrists, forcing the gun back over his head, pointed at the trees beyond, as they struggle.
My father swings the gun around to aim at Francie, who has fished the Rambaldi out of the window and stands, clutching it to her chest.
"Drop the statue." He orders.
"Or what? Or you'll shoot me? Right here in front of Sydney? That will be a lovely picture to leave in your daughter's head." She stares him down, and neither moves for a long moment.
Vaughn has subdued Sark, wrenching the gun away and using the butt to give him another blow to the forehead. He straightens up, standing with the gun pointed at Sark's head. It's probably unnecessary, since Sark's grip on consciousness isn't looking so good right about now.
My instincts continue to scream at me, to fight, to struggle, to take out Francie, grab the Rambaldi and run. But I just can't do it. This is Francie, my roommate, my best friend, the one I cried with after Danny died, the one I celebrated with the night we were finally able to remove our engagement rings. I can't fight Francie.
She steps to the side, never taking her eyes off my father. He moves the gun a bit to follow her, but does not fire. Her lips creep up just a bit, in a sinister smile, as she turns from him and saunters away, still holding the statue. He slowly swings the gun around, keeping it trained on her as she disappears into the darkness.
We all turn in unison at a sound from the opposite side of the house -- a florist's van has jumped the curb and is tearing across the lawn, throwing up little bits of turf as it goes. It swings around roughly on the soft ground and stops, its back facing us.
The back doors are flung open and I see Weiss, half-leaning against the doorpost as he gestures toward us with one hand.
"I'm going to the hospital, and the three of you are coming! Get the hell in here so we can get the hell out!"
Dad lowers his gun and I run toward the van. Vaughn glances up, uncertain, and Dad shakes his head. "Leave him. We don't have time." He steps over to Sark, who receives yet another blow to the head. Straightening up, he reaches under Vaughn's own collar, pulls out the comm link, and slides it into the pocket of the now-unconscious Sark. He glances back at Vaughn, who nods in understanding. They climb into the van just behind me, Vaughn reaching back to shut the door.