Chapter 9
Before Shane could reply, Terrance had lurched away from the railing. He walked toward the elevator with a purposeful, though still unsteady, stride.
“I still think you ought to sit down for a minute,” Shane said.
Terrance said nothing in reply. He reached out and jabbed the elevator call button. It opened immediately, and he stepped through the doors. Shane followed.
“You playing pool this mornin’?” Terrance said, pressing the button for the ground floor. The pool cue was leaning in the corner of the elevator. Shane had forgotten all about it.
“I was cleaning up around the pool table when the fuckers came at me,” he said, he stepped back to the pool cue and took hold of it.
“Came at you?”
“Yeah,” Shane mumbled.
“So this guy that fell off the railing, he have any help with that?”
Shane looked at the doors, saying nothing.
The elevator reached the ground floor. The bell dinged, the doors slid open.
And there on the floor was the Flannel Man, waiting.
“Shit!” Shane said, stepping back.
Terrance didn’t move as quickly. The Flannel Man reached out with both hands, caught hold of his leg. Terrance tried to jerk his leg free, but the Flannel Man didn’t let go. He pulled himself toward Terrance’s leg, his own legs still dragging behind him. He opened his mouth, sinking his teeth into Terrance’s shin.
Terrance screamed and fell backwards.
Without thinking, Shane swung the thick end of the pool cue into the Flannel Man’s temple. Flannel Man’s head rocked to the side, his teeth tearing free, but the pool cue snapped in half at its middle.
Terrance was on the floor, his head and shoulders pressed against the elevator wall. He drew up his free leg, still screaming, and aimed a kick at Flannel Man’s face.
It was a glancing blow, enough to knock Flannel Man’s face to the side, but not enough to slow him down. He lurched forward and sank his teeth into the meat above Terrance’s knee, which made Terrance scream even louder. He raised his hands to Terrance’s chest, lifted his face, and started pulling himself toward Terrance’s neck.
Shane dropped to his knees, and jammed the point of the stick into Flannel Man’s eye with both hands. There was a moment of resistance, and then the stick abruptly slipped half a foot into the man’s head.
Flannel Man went limp, his fingers losing their grip on Terrance’s coveralls. A dark flood of blood poured from his gaping eye socket, spilling across Terrance’s chest.
“Get him off me!” Terrance screamed. “Get this fucker off me!”
Shane grabbed the man by the shoulders of his flannel, dragged him off of Terrance and outside of the elevator. He dropped the man front-side down, the pool cue sticking out of the man’s head making his neck twist to the side. A widening blood stain spread across the carpet from the man’s face.
Shane stood there, looking down at the man. He felt as if the air in the building had thickened instantaneously, as if he were buried in a pit of mud. He could feel the weight of it pressing against him, making it hard for him to breathe. And then a flash of heat rolled over his body, and he started shaking like he had a palsy. His stomach lurched, and he turned to the side and vomited onto the floor.
“Shane!” Terrance called from the elevator. “Shane, you alright out there! Say something, bro.”
Shane shook his head. He spit onto the floor, wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. And then he realized he was still wearing the rubber gloves. The brilliant yellow of the rubber almost seemed to glow in the dim light, except for where the gloves had been covered with blood.
“Shane, help me out, bro!” Terrance called. “Don’t leave me in here!”
Shane shook his head again. He took a step back toward the elevator, making a point of not looking at Flannel Man’s body.
Terrance had propped himself up against the elevator wall. He looked up at Shane when Shane stepped into sight.
“Shane, man, help me out,” he said. “Help a brother out.” He raised one arm up toward Shane, the other pushing himself off the ground.
Shane took his arm, helped haul him to his feet. Terrance stood leaning against the elevator wall, his hands gripping the waist-high rail for support. He had all of his weight on his uninjured leg. His face looked drawn and pale beneath his dark skin. His head was tilted back, eyes squeezed shut, and he was breathing in sharp gasps.
“We gotta get you to a hospital,” Shane said.
“Yeah, man,” Terrance said. “Yeah we do. But first things first.”
He paused. He opened his eyes and caught Shane with a serious look.
“First things first,” Terrance said. “And first thing we gotta do is get my muh-fuckin’ gun.”