Mark, Amanda and Steve didn't move. Each was absorbed in their own reaction to both the pure insanity they had just been witness to and the ghastly news that had been delivered to them in such an appalling way.
Amanda found herself shaking involuntarily, a bone-tingling tremor that shook her entire body. She felt as though a fist had penetrated her chest and had wrapped its icy fingers around her heart as a blanket of cold dread settle over her.
Mark stared blindly forwards. He felt as though he was drowning in a sea of shock and despair, his surroundings blurred as he was submerged by a tidal wave of emotions. Looking directly at the man yet not seeing him. His vision had faded and his ears rang with a deafening silence. His mind was paralysed on one thought and one thought alone. Jesse's dead. Dying with no one there to comfort him; alone and scared. Dead…
Steve looked on as the man sauntered up the steps. He moved slowly, but the arrogance of his swagger was not lost on Steve whose eyes flickered down to the length of steel clenched in the man's fist. Steve could feel his heart pounding in his head, and his chest tightened painfully. Unlike Amanda and Mark, Steve's response to the man's cruel declaration was one of ardent disbelief and an anger that was quickly fermenting into burning fury.
"You're lying." Steve's voice shook, but was strong with conviction.
The man simply smiled in response and continued his way up the stairs, drawing closer with each step.
"Tell me you're lying." An air of desperation had edged into Steve's voice as he watched on, still incapable of spurring his body into action.
The man merely laughed and continued onwards. Without any warning whatsoever he swiped into the air with the knife, striking at Amanda who gasped and stumbled backwards. The knife hadn't touched her but had come close enough to diffuse the cool air and impress the coldness of the blade onto her skin.
Startled by the sudden immediacy of the man's violent behaviour Steve was finally sparked into action. At once he extended a hand and wrenched Amanda backwards, out of the immediate reach of the man whose face had twisted into a snarl of absolute loathing then back to the visage of good humour in an instant.
"Oh, come on! Why play games? You know what's going to happen, so why delay it? I mean, it's not like I really mind because this is fun!" He took a step closer, emphasising his words with emphatic gestures of the knife, his eyes bulging derangedly.
"Tell you what, I'll give you a five second head-start. Fair is fair after all." He spoke as though offering a generous compromise.
Steve felt Amanda tense in his grasp, but he held her firmly.
"We're… we're not going anywhere." Mark spoke for the first time. His voice was hoarse, as though the words were sticking painfully in his throat, and despite the fierce pounding of his heart against his ribs he maintained a steady countenance.
"You… you're never going to get away with this. You know that don't you?" Steve noted that his father's voice had taken on a tone of professionalism and he watched carefully as the man eyed Mark as if sizing him up, searching for a sign of threat although there was none.
"Why don't you just give yourself up? If you hurt any of us you'll just make things worse for yourself…" Mark continued.
"Oh yeah?" The man snapped bitingly, "I bet you're really concerned about my wellbeing aren't you?" The sarcasm dripped from his voice and he took another step forwards, the knife directed threateningly at Mark's chest.
"No. No I'm not. I honestly don't care what happens to you. I just don't want anyone else to get hurt." He locked eyes with the man and maintained contact, almost as if trying to stare down a wild animal.
"You know what?" The man extended the knife closer to Mark, who didn't move. Steve felt Amanda take a sharp intake of breath but slowly the man lowered the knife.
"You're bluntness is actually quite refreshing. The world could do with more people like you – think about it. No more wondering what other people are thinking, I mean, does she think I'm a mind reader or something?! God damn bitch!!" His face had flipped again to pure insanity as he went into a sudden frenzied tirade. He stamped his foot down and punched his hand repeatedly into the door before stopping abruptly and taking a few heavy breaths.
"Now, where was I?" The reversal of his character was startling. His tone no longer angry but rather genial and pleasant.
"Right, right. I was about to say what a shame it was. Me having to kill you. You seem a nice guy and all. But… you gotta do what you gotta do." He finished with a coy smile and raised the knife again, sharply pitching forward and seizing Mark by the shirt. Mark gasped as he was twisted around and the knife was pushed up to his throat. The man pressed the blade into his skin just hard enough to impress the razor-like sharpness of the blade onto Mark's mind, but not enough so to penetrate the skin.
Steve felt his gut lurch and he grabbed clumsily at the gun nestled in his belt as the scene in front of him unfolded. His slowed reactions however prevented a response swift enough to be effective and the man simply sneered at his fumbling and forced the knife more firmly into Mark's throat, compelling Mark to pull his head back to prevent the metal blade from piercing his flesh.
With trembling hands Steve trained the gun unsteadily at the man. His heart pounded deafeningly in his ears and the sound of Amanda's gasps were drowned out by the rushing of his blood through his veins. For a moment all he could see was the sight of his father being held by the man who had killed his best friend.
An ugly smirk was plastered across his face as he slid the knife tauntingly back and forth only millimetres away from the skin, feigning the actions that would slit Mark's throat and leaving no doubt in Steve's mind that he had no qualms in doing so.
A look of sheer panic radiated from every pore of Mark's face; every trace of colour had been drained from his skin which had taken on a waxy pallor and his eyes seemed to leap from their sockets, the whites glowing in the half-darkness and his gaze fixed on Steve, pleading.
A minute sound penetrated his thoughts and he tore his eyes away from his father's face and noticed for the first time that the man's lips were moving.
"…should have listened. You should understand by now – what do you think you're going to do with that gun? You can't stop me. I've already won. He's dead. Dead! Do you understand that? I killed him, and now you're the only ones standing in my way!" His voice had a maniacal tone and he giggled hysterically, his body convulsing as he laughed, the knife shifting precariously in his hand nicking into Mark's flesh causing him to wince as several trickles of blood ran down his neck.
Steve gripped the gun tighter, aiming it at the man's head and squinting as he tried to ward off the blurring that repeatedly crept into his vision.
"Put it down" the giggling stopped instantly, his voice severe and unrelenting.
"Now, or I'll kill him." He pressed the knife yet further into Mark's neck eliciting a gasp of pain that was followed by an intensified flow of blood.
For a split moment of indecision Steve wrestled with his head and his heart. His mind told him that failing to lower the gun would provoke the man into an act that would with no doubt result in his father's death. His heart told him that if he lowered the gun he would lose what would probably be his only opportunity to take out the lunatic who was hell-bent on killing them all.
Releasing the gun with one hand Steve lifted one palm as if trying to placate the man.
"Okay, okay… I'll lower the gun, just… just put down the knife, ok? Let him go…"
The man didn't move, a sneer twisting his gaunt features.
"Maybe you don't understand me. You ain't in no position to bargain pal. Now, put that god damn gun down or I'll slit his throat. That clear enough for you?" he jeered.
Steve didn't move, keeping the gun trained on the man, his mind raced, trying to decide what he should do for the best.
"If I put this gun down what's to stop you from killing him hey? Tell me that?"
The man smiled.
"Nothing"
Steve gave a slight nod by way of response, clenching and unclenching his jaw. He turned his eyes back to his father, staring deep into his eyes, trying desperately to read his expression – to communicate a plan of action.
A slight flicker in Mark's eyes caught Steve's attention. He frowned, trying to decipher its meaning. Mark turned his eyes again leaving no doubt that he was trying to impart a message to Steve who desperately tried to understand him.
The reaction did not go unnoticed by the man. A voice whispered in his head, They're plotting, they're plotting against you...
It was instinct. He turned his head to see what it was the one with the gun was looking at, and in that instant the old man hit him.
It wasn't a particularly hard blow, but it caught him off guard. He dropped the arm with the knife and stumbled backward trying to regain his balance.
Steve was just as taken aback as the intruder was by Mark's actions, but the ingenuity of his plan was immediately evident to Steve who grasped the gun again with both hands, aimed, and squeezed the trigger.
The first bullet hit its target and the man was sent reeling backwards, a grunt of pain erupting from his lips as he fell into the door. Steve pulled the trigger again, a second bullet hit the man square in the chest and he stumbled back out of the door, plunging down the stairs and falling into a writhing heap on the muddy floor.
Steve strode forwards after the man fell out of sight, determined to finish what he had started. He raised the gun again and aimed it at the man's contorting form, squeezing the trigger and watching as he convulsed as the bullet hit him. Steve went to pull the trigger again but found his arm being pushed to one side so the bullet misfired, spiralling away into the emptiness of courtyard and being swallowed by the ever diminishing darkness.
Steve turned his head sharply to the source of the interruption and was shocked to find his father's face staring at him imploringly.
"No. Steve, no." He rested one hand onto Steve's arm.
A surge of anger flared in Steve at his father's interference.
"What?" He spat in disbelief. How could his father be protecting the man who had attacked, murdered, Jesse?
"That's enough." Mark's voice was sombre; that of a man drained of all spirit.
"Enough?" Steve was incredulous, "Enough? There never will be enough! Don't you understand? He killed Jesse? He killed… killed him." His voice broke.
"I… I know" Mark's voice shook, "but you're not like him. You're better than that Steve, you're better than that. So that's enough." Mark gently pushed his hand firmer down onto the grip Steve had on the gun, and after a moment Steve relented and lowered the weapon.
"Dad…" A wave of dizziness flushed through him again and he fell forward and rested his head on his father's shoulder, broken and emptied. After a moment Steve felt Amanda slide a hand around his waist and she set her head onto his shoulder, her body quivering gently as she sobbed silently into his back.
For a few minutes they stood, unmoving. A huddle of united torment and grief.
Eventually Mark pulled away, he stood back and took a deep rehabilitating breath.
"We'd better go. I don't want to… to leave Jesse alone." He ran a hand through his ruffled white hair, and turned his eyes to the forecourt outside before walking slowly through the door.
Author's Note: Sorry there's been such a delay in posting this chapter. Real life has a nasty habit of throwing things up at the most inopportune of moments. The next chapter is also practically ready for posting, so there shouldn't be too long a wait!
Sarah