Buoyed by the attack, Lou managed to tighten his grip. He craned his neck and looked upward just in time to see Edwin swing the metal extension pipe, connecting heavily with Stone’s temple. A second blow landed on the side of the man’s neck.

Stone staggered back from the sidewall. Swinging his weapon wildly, Edwin charged after him, stumbling against his broad chest. The two men grappled on the catwalk, spinning in circles, with Stone screaming in both rage and pain. Lou tried to pull himself up, but his arms were shaking from fatigue.

Emily.… Come on, you idiot, do it for your kid.…

He gained a little more purchase with his foot and then finally was able to adjust the position of his hands. Overhead he could see Stone beginning to maul the much slighter Edwin.

He had to get up to help.

At that moment, Edwin made a move, almost certainly unexpected, that spun Stone around and rammed his back into the upper railing of the catwalk. In an instant, locked in each other’s arms, the two of them went over, brushing past Lou as they fell.

The heavy thud beneath him was dreadful, and was quickly followed by the unremitting shrieks of Gilbert Stone. But Lou was too weak to turn and look. He hoped that the lack of sound from Edwin meant that the man had been knocked unconscious.

The clicking and cracking from the termite jaws, reverberating off the steel walls, became deafening.

Inch by painful inch, Lou advanced upward along the outside of the catwalk wall, using his foot to push and his fingers to pull. Finally, he was upright, hanging on to the wall. Fearing what he was going to see, he finally had the strength to look down. The two adversaries lay supine, a foot from each other, their hands nearly touching. Edwin was motionless, a pool of insect-covered crimson expanding from beneath his head.

Stone was moaning and squirming with pain. His eye sockets were already filled with termites, and dozens, if not hundreds of them seemed to be forcing their way into his mouth. His lips were moving as if he were trying to speak, but no recognizable words were emerging.

Lou hung on until his wind had somewhat returned. Then he swung his legs over the top railing of the catwalk wall and dropped to his side on the metal grate, his chest heaving with exhaustion. The bullet wound to his thigh burned, but he knew that with time, the scar would be a memento of what had been the worst day of a life that had experienced more than its share of them.