Chapter 7: Numb

When Felix called Wolfgang, there was none of the usual humor evident in his tone. He sounded serious, scared, and it chilled Wolfgang to the bone.

"Be right over," Wolfgang replied, and proceeded to break every speed limit in his path to get back to his brother.

Wolfgang felt everything.

Adrenaline rushed through him in waves, giving him some sort of ultra-sensitive high to his surroundings.

He rapped on the door to the locksmith's shop, barely remembering to lock his car.

"Come, come, come," Felix whispered hurriedly, ushering him inside.

"What's wrong?"

Felix didn't reply, opting to swiftly, wordlessly walk to the back of the shop. Wolfgang followed, irate and nervous.

"Hey," Wolfgang demanded, his pulse ratcheting up to even higher heights. "What happened?" A dozen scenarios flashed through his mind, and he scanned Felix worriedly, searching for an injury.

"I don't know what happened," Felix hissed back to Wolfgang. "Nothing happened." He turned, lines of stress plainly evident on his pale face. "It's the nothing that has me worried."

"You went to see Abraham?"

"I did. Or at least I tried to." Felix began stuffing random objects in his black bag, his hands shaking, clumsy. "We had a date."

"He didn't show?"

"No. So I called. Nothing." At Felix's answer, Wolfgang shook his head, beginning to pace along the shop's dark floors. "Went by his shop," Felix continued. "Closed up. Gone." A growl had entered Felix's tone, his frustration breaking through his tight mask of anxiety. "Fuck!" Felix kicked a metal screwdriver across the floor, the sound shattering the stillness of the shop.

Felix looked up at Wolfgang, his eyes shining with some sort of quiet desperation. "I'm thinking about your passage to India," the man said, slightly breathless. "Maybe you need a Sherpa or something?"

Wolfgang just shook his head in response, pausing in his pacing to stare at the wall. Maybe we could – a frantic knocking interrupted Wolfgang's thoughts, loud and insistent at the front door. Wolfgang snapped his head up towards the noise.

Hello?!" A frantic voice called out.

"We're closed!" Felix yelled, waving his arms around in short, angry motions.

"Please!" The woman pleaded, her face a twisted mask of pain. "Please, can you help me?"

Felix angrily strode towards the door, shaking his head. "Oh, what would all the damsels in distress do if I left the city, huh?"

Then Wolfgang hears a bang, a cataclysm of glass, the impact of a body on hard, hard wood –

And Wolfgang shields himself out of instinct, his arms wrapped around his face, his body instinctively curving away from the blast, away from the disaster –

And he turned his head back and Felix is on the ground, a spray of blood splattered across the floor - Felix is lying motionless, motionless, so still, hands curving towards his face like a final prayer –

And Wolfgang's tortured gaze flew towards the door, towards the source of this fucking disaster –

His feet are already in motion, he is stumbling, clumsy, tumbling towards the door, towards the enemy, towards his brother –

Steiner is outside in a black van, the door is open, his face an explosive mask of anger and hate, and he is reloading the shotgun –

But Wolfgang doesn't care, doesn't give a fuck, because Felix is on the ground, still - so so still –

And he holds a rag over Felix's cold body, pressing hard. His hand is drenched in blood - so much blood - but it's not his own, and he watches the van drive away, helpless, an indescribable agony washing over him like riptide, pulling him under, under –

And suddenly –

Wolfgang felt nothing.