A low hum seemed to be buzzing in her head, up and down blurred into one. Adrenaline flooded through her body, and the stinging and throbbing in her right ankle rapidly increased to a pain that made everything around her fade into insignificance. Only that what was happening around Nikki was the opposite of a trivial matter. It was not an option to just lie here on this cold stone floor, to let herself be carried over into unconsciousness by the pain, and to deprive the boys of what was probably their very last chance of survival. What had Elizabeth once said to the detective when she had fallen while hiking and was eight years old?
Suffering is a luxury you have to be able to afford. You're in the middle of the forest; if you were alone, you would only have the choice between suffering and life.
Nikki turned to her stomach and tried to get up despite all the pain. She lost her balance, and as her injured foot reflexively tried to stop her fall, the pain shot through her body with such concentrated force that she fell with a scream that even drowned out the music from the car stereo. For several seconds, Nikki lay incapacitated on the cold concrete when her gaze fell on Paul Moore, sitting lifelessly against his car in a pool of blood. All she wanted to do was stay where she was. Lose consciousness, shut out the pain. But there was no alternative to what she had to do, and even her pain was certainly no excuse. Using her uninjured leg and the strength of her arms, Nikki crawled through the blood over to Paul Moore. She couldn't say whether Carl had started to chase her or even fired at her. The pain and the music drowned out everything else; the only thing that mattered now was the key to the former water basin. However, she was going to get down there with her broken foot and open the door, Nikki began to feel Moore's body. He was still alive, making noises over and over again.
"Do you hear me, Paul?" Nikki was practically screaming. "Where are the keys? Quick, I need them. Now!"
There was no reaction; it would have been too good to be true. The detective would have to do it alone, and given the circumstances, she avoided thinking about the implications of this realization. After unsuccessfully searching all the pockets on Moore's clothes, she pulled him to the ground by his right arm so that she could now also inspect his back pockets—without success.
"That was a courageous thing to do. I admire you."
The voice, unknown to Nikki, sounded from the direction of the back gate to the stunt arena. She had had trouble understanding the words; someone had to please turn off that damn music system! With her last ounce of strength, she turned around in the direction from which she had heard the words. She recognized a young woman in a wheelchair.
"Help me, please!" Nikki didn't care who she had in front of her. "There must be keys to the room under the stage in the car somewhere. I need them now! The children may only have seconds left."
The woman's face expressed deep sympathy. "But you can't go anywhere in your condition." She pointed to the wheels of her wheelchair. "And unfortunately, I'm not much help either."
Nikki refused to recognize the obvious. She thought as hard as her condition allowed. Esther Wallace would probably be the only person who could still save them, but she was on that stupid roof, and by the time she climbed back down, the last minutes of the boys would have passed. Besides, Carl would hardly let her just go. One last thought occurred to Nikki in her helpless desperation. She didn't know who this woman was, but it was evident she was connected to Carl and Esther Wallace. She didn't belong to Paul Moore; after all, he had arrived alone in his car. "We need Carl's twin brother. Dennis! Even if it's just on the phone. He might still be able to persuade Carl to give up. Can you manage that?"
The woman looked at Nikki with question marks in her eyes. "Carl doesn't have a brother."
What was she talking about? There was no doubt that Carl was mentally disturbed and severely traumatized since his time in the bunker. Still, she certainly wouldn't let the old story of multiple personality disorder be repeated to her now. Nikki pulled out her cell phone and held it out to the woman. "Of course, Carl has a brother. His twin, Dennis!" The detective had to shout over the music coming from the car speakers, 'Can you get him on the phone?'
The woman showed no inclination to reach for the phone. She just rolled a little closer to Nikki, leaned down, and said with impressive clarity, "Carl doesn't have a twin brother. He has a twin sister! I'm Denise, afraid I can't stop my brother. I never could."
Nikki fell silent for a second. She had assumed that the twin was a boy for whatever reason. When she kept calling Dennis instead of Denise, neither Carl nor Wallace corrected her and pointed out that it was a woman. Then she saw from the corner of her eye how Carl stepped out from behind the Dodge with calm steps and stood beside his sister. He pointed Nikki's own gun at her and said, "Just close your eyes. Now, there will finally be peace. For all of us. Wonderful, blessed peace."
"That's enough, Carl!" Emma pushed herself between Nikki and her brother. "Where's the key?"
Carl looked at his sister as if she had spoken Chinese to him. "Seriously? Still the keys? What do you want with them now?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out Claudia Acosta's keychain. "It's too late; the boys are dead. Now they'll finally wake up, and they'll finally find him. It's over for me; it's no longer useful. But for you!"
Emma looked at Carl uncomprehendingly. "What nonsense! Charles Manson and his family thought that their massacre of pregnant Sharon Tate and her friends would cause the world to plunge into hellish chaos. Which, of course, did not happen! Please stop trying to avenge our 'loving' parents. And stop making innocent people suffer so that you can stay in this bunker and deny reality."
Nikki had trouble following the twins' conversation because of the music, but they were close enough that she could still understand their words.
"Don't talk about Mom and Dad like that!" Carl's attention was now entirely focused on his sister so Nikki could breathe and had a moment to think. Her foot was clearly broken. She didn't have the slightest chance of escape. The only weapon she had against Carl was words.
And the smartphone in my hand. But I guess as a weapon, it lacks the necessary software ...
What, she wondered, would Elizabeth say if she were here right now?
But as a weapon, it lacks the necessary software ... Ma would say: You shouldn't be too quick to settle for answers like that. They're like stones in the way; they slow down recognition.
"You did it back then and still do it today!" Emma's desperation at the situation was written all over her face, and she talked herself into a rage. "This nonsense from our 'loving' parents, who fulfill our every wish and do everything to carry their little darlings in their hands."
If Carl had been calm in a frightening way before, now sweat appeared on his forehead, which also became wrinkled with anger. "I kept you alive in the bunker back then. Without me, you would have perished. You had given up hope that Mom and Dad would get us out of there, but I didn't!"
"Why should I have hoped for it? Carl, stop denying reality! Our parents were horrible! Dad was drunk 24/7, and Mom was high all day. Sometimes, they were gone for days. Without us knowing where they were. And without leaving us any food. We had to go to our neighbors because we didn't know how to boil an egg, but there was nothing else in the fridge. We were mostly fed and educated by other residents of our house, who took turns ensuring we got something to eat. Child Protective Services was always there, but they never did anything. Because our dear parents needed the child support for their addiction. And because the damned youth welfare office always called ahead. Of course, they were sober and showered by the time they arrived. Why do you think we were really in that shitty bunker?"
Nikki could see it. The facial expressions of the man she had met, Marvin, were familiar to her. And what she saw now did not bode well.
I have to do something, but I wonder if I can do anything. Physically, I'm defeated, but Denise doesn't stand a chance against him either. But she attacks him psychologically, and that weakens him. Maybe he can be defeated with words; in his current state, they can be like weapons.
But to do that, Carl would have to understand her words first, and the music was still booming out of the Dodge. On top of that, Nikki was neither a psychologist nor able to see herself in her current situation...
Wait! Why do I actually see this music as my enemy all the time?
Suddenly, it became light in Nikki's mind. She had simply done it intuitively without being tense, as Elizabeth had repeatedly advised her.
Think differently, think deeper, connect the dots in a big way, look at the details, and find the key to fit them all together.
"They wanted to protect us!" Carl screamed out all his anger, raised his weapon, and now pointed it at his sister. "Stop lying!"
Denise took a deep breath, apparently gathering her thoughts, and started again in a calmer voice: "Now give me the keys to the pool. Then we'll talk about Mom and Dad and figure out how to find their killer. Okay?"
"Why does everyone want those keys?" Carl screamed out his hatred, anger, and despair, spitting out his words. Then he raised his hand, still holding Claudia Acosta's key, turned to the grandstand, swung, and threw it high between the rows of seats, where it would most likely fall between the seats and land somewhere out of reach in the arena's substructure. Nikki closed her eyes.
That's it for Ben and the boys; now everything is lost.
Esther Wallace had taken out Mike, so help would not come. She was lying on the concrete floor with a broken foot, seeing her own service weapon in the hand of the human who wanted to kill her. "I understand that this is the end for us." She didn't have to act; the words came out of her so convincingly on their own. "But then at least let us go to our death with a little more dignity than with this awful shit music in our ears." She raised her cell phone.
"What are you doing?" Carl pointed the gun at the detective again.
"I downloaded something to my smartphone the other day when I was with Wallace in your bunker and then forgot about it. But my Bluetooth is still connected to the Dodge. So come on, Carl and Denise, if we're all going to die, let's go out with a little more upbeat music!" Nikki tapped a button to log into the car's sound system and started the song she had selected while Carl had been busy with his sister.
I'll show you what a powerful weapon a cell phone can be!
Paul Moore's music faded away before the song from Nikki's smartphone began to play:
Kisses for me,
save all your kisses for me.
Bye-bye, baby, bye-bye!
Don't cry, honey, don't cry!
Gonna walk out the door
But I'll soon be back for more!
"Ahhh!!!" Carl carelessly dropped the weapon, pressed both hands over his ears, and sank to his knees as if an axe had been driven into his back.
Nikki looked at Denise, who was also irritated and visibly displeased by the music but far more composed than her twin brother. "The weapon, quickly!"
It took Denise about a second before she could act rationally again. She immediately rolled over to her brother and grabbed the gun from the floor.
Nikki crawled over to Carl's sister in pain and had her hand the gun to her. While the song continued to play from the music system, Nikki grabbed her handcuffs and pulled herself up into the seat. Carl allowed himself to be handcuffed without resistance while streams of tears ran from his eyes, and he whimpered desperately: "Mommy, Daddy, why aren't you coming? We're hungry. And scared. Have you forgotten us here? Where are you?"
While Denise lovingly embraced her brother from behind, rocking and caressing him like a child, Nikki crawled painfully out from behind the Dodge to look up at the arena roof again. Esther Wallace was standing up there at the roof's edge and had apparently been watching the spectacle. Nikki finally deactivated the song that had saved her life, making it quiet on the show floor again. She turned around once more to Carl and Denise, who were completely absorbed in each other and had apparently plunged deep into the world of their trauma, far away from this place. There would be no more danger from them.
But no help either!
"Come down quickly!" Nikki tried to meet Wallace's gaze, but she was much too far away from her. "Except for you, no one can get the boy out of there now."
There was no immediate reaction. Wallace didn't even move; she stood there almost like a mannequin. Finally, she spoke: "Have you seen the time? It's over! It'll take me a few minutes to climb down to you, and then I'd still have to find the key."
"What the fuck?" Nikki felt anger and bewilderment rising up inside her. 'We have to at least try!'
"This is all because of me." Wallace sounded oddly detached. "Don't be too hard on Carl. He's just as much a victim as those poor boys. I'm the one who killed them. All of them!"
With that, Esther Wallace spread her arms and let herself fall calmly and in control over the edge of the roof. She plunged without making a sound and immediately hit the concrete.
Nikki felt an instant cold shiver run down her spine, and her breathing slowed. She felt the last shred of her will to fight smash to the floor of this arena along with the body of Lady Firehand. She looked at Denise, who still held her whimpering brother in her arms and seemed utterly lost in the here and now. Once more, the detective turned her gaze to the spot where Esther Wallace's blood spread in broad streams under her body. Time had long since run out, and there was nothing anyone could do now.
This is the end. The boys are dead.
