Terminal

“Drop the gun,” Dugan ordered, “and let her go, or so help me God I’ll shoot you where you stand, you son of a bitch. I mean it!”

“You might,” Sherm answered calmly, “but I goddamned guarantee you that I’ll shoot back. And if I’ve got time left before I die, I’ll fucking shoot Sharon too.”

As if to make his point, he aimed the gun in Sharon’s direction, still keeping his eyes on Dugan and Kim’s hair firmly clenched in his fist.

I inched closer to them. John was breathing heavily next to me.

“Drop it, Dugan,” I shouted. “Come on, man. It’s two against one. There’s no way this is gonna work, and you know it.”

His eyes didn’t leave Sherm’s as he spoke to me. “You’re not shooting anybody, Tommy. You don’t have it in you. Trust me, I know. I’ve killed before, in ’Nam.”

“Try me, you stupid motherfucker. I mean it, Dugan. Put down the gun, now.”

Dugan’s eyes flashed from Sherm to me and back to Sherm again. His hands were shaking, and the pistol barrel wobbled up and down.

“Hard to hit anything with your hand shaking like that,” John chipped in.

“Shut up!” Dugan hissed, but I heard the doubt creeping into his voice.

“Your choice, Dugan.” Sherm kept his gun aimed at Sharon. “Go ahead and shoot me. Maybe you’ll hit me or maybe you’ll hit Kim or maybe you’ll hit the wall and the ricochet will kill somebody else. No matter how it goes down, though, I’m gonna take out your piece of ass before I die.”

“Shoot him,” Sharon moaned, “I love you, Dugan. Now shoot him.”

“Shut up, bitch!”

“Oh shit . . .” Oscar breathed.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want . . .” Martha recited over and over, her eyes still closed.

“I . . .” Dugan’s finger tightened on the trigger.

My palms were sweating and the .38 slipped. I tried to hold it steady again. Sweat ran into my eyes too, stinging them, making me half-blind.

“Dugan, I mean it. I’m not fucking around here, and neither is Sherm. Think about Sharon, man. Do you really want to see her get shot? Sherm said he’d let you guys go.”

Even as I said it, a part of me deep down inside wished Dugan would do it, wished he’d squeeze the trigger and shoot and end all of our misery by taking Sherm down. But friendship won out. I don’t know why, but it did. Maybe it was because I felt like Dugan had betrayed my trust, betrayed my good intentions. Maybe all of them had. They’d pretended to be nice and concerned, but all the while they were just playing me.

“I mean it, Dugan,” I warned him a final time. “Drop that pistol or I will shoot you.”

“Don’t listen to them, baby,” Sharon pleaded, closing her eyes. “Tommy won’t do it. And don’t worry about me. Just do it.”

“I said shut your mouth, bitch.” Sherm’s own grip on his pistol tightened. I inched closer, keeping the cop’s .38 centered on Dugan. My chest was pounding so hard that I thought I might be having a heart attack. My throat felt constricted and I needed to cough, but I knew if I did it was going to be a bad one, leaving me helpless to do anything else. I fought it off and tried to ignore the bloody phlegm building at the back of my mouth.

“Last chance. This thing ain’t got no safety, so . . .” Sherm smiled, and his knuckle popped as he gently squeezed the trigger.

“No,” Dugan cried out, “don’t! I’ll drop it. Don’t shoot Sharon. Look, I’m putting it down. I’m putting it down, you son of a bitch.”

He laid my pistol down in front of him. Letting go of Kim’s hair, Sherm kicked the weapon out of Dugan’s reach and told John to pick it up. John got up from the floor and obeyed without a word.

“Lie down on the floor, Dugan. I want you fucking kissing it. Do you understand me? You’re gonna lick that floor like it was Sharon’s pussy.”

Dugan complied, but now he didn’t look like the brave vet. He looked like a scared old man. Squatting, Sherm placed the gun against the back of his head. Sharon begged Sherm not to hurt him. Oscar closed his eyes, joining Martha in prayer.

“Tommy”— Sherm was still looking down at Dugan—“how the fuck did he get your gun?”

His voice was nothing more than a cold whisper. John licked his lips and shot me a nervous glance.

“I don’t know, man. I guess I must have forgotten it when we were in the office . . .”

“Why weren’t his hands tied? I told you to fucking tie them.”

“They were, Sherm.”

“The hell they were.”

“He must have gotten loose.”

Standing, he prodded Dugan with his foot.

“Get up, asshole. And if you so much as fucking flinch, John is gonna do your girlfriend right here, gutshot or not. Cover her, Carpet Dick.”

Hesitating, John pointed the pistol at Sharon.

“John,” Roy breathed, “you don’t have to listen to him, son. Neither of you do. You’ve seen what comes after this. You’ve been given another chance. Don’t waste it or make a mockery out of it.”

“What the fuck is he going on about?” Sherm shoved Dugan forward. I stuck the .38 in my waistband and held my hands out in front of me. “He’s scared. That’s all. We all are. Just chill out, Sherm.”