After another five minutes of frenzied activity, they suddenly stopped working and stepped back. One of the doctors called time of death and Shane stared at them frozen in shock.

As they turned away, he went over to his friend and slipped his good arm under Scotty’s shoulders, raising him up as he sobbed against his chest.

Slowly he became aware of others coming into the room. Cowboy, Keeme, Hopper, Nash, Demarco, Hersh. Novak walked in, expression dialed way beyond bleak.

Shane slowly laid his friend back on the table aware he was covered in Scotty’s blood. Shane closed his eyes. “I need to get to Grace.”

Novak nodded. “We’re on the next flight out.”

“He’s coming too.” Shane indicated Scotty with his chin.

Novak hesitated only briefly. “We won’t leave him behind.”

Shane nodded. He wanted to lash out but these guys were hurting as much as he was. “Did we at least catch the motherfucker?”

Novak shook his head and rage replaced Shane’s grief.

“But we will.”

Damn right they would. They’d get this guy if it was the last thing Shane ever did.

Shane held Novak’s gaze calmly as if his heart hadn’t been put through a grinder. He pushed away and headed outside, ignoring the curious stares as people took in his blood-soaked form.

Once outside, he stared up at the blue sky knowing nothing would ever be the same again. His best friend was dead and all because of a stupid broken arm and some twisted piece of shit.

“I’m coming for you, motherfucker. You’re going to wish you’d never started this, you murderous asshole.” If it took the rest of his life, he would make sure the so-called Evi1Geni-us paid for what he’d done, for the lives he’d destroyed.

Then Shane went back inside and helped Novak and the others get their brother home.

3

He sat in the secret secure room he had refurbished inside his modest home, eating a chocolate bar and drinking a soda. He’d spent an hour playing a video game but his appetite for pretend had faded because it didn’t compare to the adrenaline rush he got from causing real harm to real people.

He went over to his PC and booted it up.

He had an outside source of air he could control plus a high-grade filtration system. He had backup power sources and enough dried food and water to keep him alive for months. It was a survival bunker but he wasn’t prepping for the apocalypse.

It was more secure than most bank vaults, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t freaked out when he occasionally closed the door and locked himself inside. It was too reminiscent of another small room he’d once occupied. One where no-one ever heard him scream. Where people had died and others, who should have cared, barely raised an eyebrow.