Am I dead?
Where he had landed on the floor, Steve lay still and debated that question.
Something had slammed into Steve's side. Wasn't it a bullet? The noise of the shots and being hit had all happened at the same time. It had to be a bullet. Steve ran his hands along the ground and waited in the silence for the pain to start.
Why don't I feel any pain?
Steve could not figure that out. If he had been shot, he should be hurting by now.
But I'm not hurting.
And where was the blood? Steve saw no blood and did not feel any wetness on his side. If Steve had been shot, there would be blood.
So maybe I wasn't shot.
He frowned and tried to work that through in his mind. Something hit him and he had seen Shane swing a gun as he fell. Wait. Maybe that something was not a bullet, but a someone. Steve tried to think. Had Shane hit him? Maybe he had.
Whatever happened, Steve was not hurting. If he had been shot, he would be hurting. Steve was not hurting. Ergo, he had not been shot.
From where he was still lying on the floor, Steve looked in the direction of where Cal had been standing. He was there, but on the ground. Slowly, Steve pulled himself from the floor and took a few unsteady steps toward the crumpled form.
Coming closer, Steve got a look at Cal. His eyes were open, but they stared lifelessly into the air.
You're never going to hurt my family again, Steve thought. The sheer relief he felt was exhilarating, even as he felt a twinge of guilt at being happy about another man's death. It's over. Kayla's safe. Kim's safe. Everyone's safe.
Steve looked up and said a silent prayer. Then he looked back down at Cal and took note for the first time of the small, round hole planted neatly between the man's eyes.
"You got him, dude," Steve said out loud to Shane. "Great shot."
"Didn't have . . . bloody choice . . . not with you . . . baiting him."
Steve's blood seemed to freeze the instant he heard Shane's halting words. Steve swung around, knowing something was terribly wrong even before he completed the turn.
Shane was leaning heavily against the wall, his head down, and his arms hanging low. He still held the gun, now clutched in both hands, only inches above the floor. As Steve watched, the front of Shane's tan dress shirt began to turn crimson.
No! Steve screamed silently.
The gun fell from Shane's hands and the metal clanked as it hit the concrete floor. He looked up, the realization of what had happened just beginning to dawn on him. Their eyes met momentarily, and Steve saw shock and fear flash across Shane's face.
Then Shane's legs gave way and he collapsed to the ground.