Not Anymore

NOT ANYMORE

6:16 P.M.

Glass shatters. Even though he’s on his knees, the pressure wave almost knocks Parker over.

Was it another bomb? A cloud of white smoke has engulfed the killers. And it smells like … like … like … barbecue.

As the smoke begins to dissipate, Parker blinks. There’s no Lips. Not anymore. In the spot where he was standing lies a mangled torso clad in the torn remains of the suicide vest. A hand lies on the floor just a few feet ahead of Parker. A hand. Not attached to anything else.

His face contorted in disgust, Ron backs away from Lips’s remains.

Over the ringing in his ears left by the bomb, Parker also hears the other hostages screaming in shock and fear. Stanford has pressed Moxie’s face into her waist.

Mole swears. “Why did Timmy set off his vest?”

“He didn’t,” Wolf shouts, tearing at the straps of his own suicide vest. As his rifle clatters to the floor, he tosses the vest in the direction of the food court. It explodes in midair. Frantically following Wolf’s example, Mole fumbles with the straps on his own vest. But the next explosion is farther away. It sounds like it came from the open second floor of the mall. Mole manages to get his vest off and pitch it away just before it explodes.

While everyone is still shocked into stillness, a barefoot Heels runs toward Lips’s rifle, which landed under a bench. She drops into a baseball slide as she reaches toward it.

But just as her outstretched fingers touch the gun, Ron runs over and puts his foot on it. Bracing his own rifle against his shoulder, he aims at Heels as she desperately tries to scramble back.

No! Parker is already moving. He points the fire extinguisher’s hose straight at Ron’s face. His thumb depresses the trigger.

With a whoosh, a fine pale-yellow powder shoots out of the end of the black hose. The grains are packed so close together they seem almost like a liquid. Ron shouts, then starts to choke and gag. His features are obscured by the powder. Still holding his rifle with his right hand, he tries to pull his shirt over his mouth and nose with his left.

The noxious yellow cloud has begun to envelop Parker, too. As he starts to cough, he forces his hand not to waver. He has to keep the other man from killing Heels. From killing them all.

She pushes herself to her feet and starts to run away. Blindly, Ron depresses the trigger of his rifle. Bullets stitch the floor behind her but don’t find any other target.