Samson
The third quarter is well underway but still nothing has happened. I watch River, The Gent, The Pistol, The Butcher and The Bear. I only half-watched when Anna slapped her father on the face. I wish the circumstances were different and I could go down there and give her a hug. Strange, but the prospect of giving her a hug fills me with warmth, whereas before it would’ve filled me with nothing. But I can’t go down there and give her what comfort I can offer. I have to stay here, waiting. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, not exactly, but I will when it happens.
River constantly leers at me. A twisted leer, the kind of leer I imagine her sadistic torturer turned on her daily. Perhaps she’s taken some aspects of him into her own personality. Perhaps she’s become changed, warped, by what he did to her. Perhaps, I think, and almost chuckle to myself. There’s no perhaps about it. The River I knew is long dead. I should’ve killed her when you had the chance.
The thought that I should’ve killed her returns to me again as I sit here, waiting for the drama to start. And yet I know that if the chance were presented to me again, I wouldn’t be able to take it. I know it’s a surefire way to end things, but I can’t. I just can’t. I’m surprised by this weakness. Not for the first time, I find myself wishing that River was a man.
Every chance I get, I glance over at Anna and the other cheerleaders. They stand in a huddle just beside the court. Anna looks up at me and offers up a small smile. I return the smile and then go on with my watching of River and her cronies.
None of them make any movement that tells me they’re going to do anything. I find myself wishing that they would just act, act now, to end this tortuous waiting. Use her as bait, draw them out, and then end it. But that was when I’d assumed River would come alone, maybe with one other person, not a four-person army of some of the deadliest men in New York City. The worst part is, I don’t even have a gun, just this dart-shooter I picked up before coming to the game.
I’ve never questioned myself like this before on a job. Everything is usually planned and planned again in advance. I’m in new territory. All I can hope is that when the time comes, I act decisively. I have to keep Anna safe. That’s the main thing. Keep Anna safe. I wonder, if it came to it, if I’d be able to kill River to save Anna’s life. I’m shocked when I realize that I don’t know. I’m unsure.
If there’s one thing I hate, it’s being unsure.
###
I know that something is up by the way the player goes for the loose ball. He doesn’t jump for it, reaching, as any other player would. This player—and my suspicious is raised because I don’t know his name—throws himself through the air as though diving, right toward the cheerleaders. And as he dives, he reaches into his sock. The knife glints in the light, winking at me, and I can see what’s going to happen as clearly as if it already has. I see the man pull the knife from his sock, lurch into Anna, and stab her brutally in the neck. There will be screams, outrage, the man will be apprehended by security. But not before Anna dies.
The man flies through the air like a torpedo, whooshing toward Anna, hand already closed around the grip of the knife. I don’t have time to think.
I grip the edge of the railing and launch myself over, knocking a coach and a substitute player to the floor. People shout at me, jeering, and the Jumbotron is immediately filled with my image. I barely see it, sprinting through the fray toward the cheerleaders. All of them, except for Anna, flinch away from me, screeching. Anna watches me with a confused expression on her face. And then the player whips the knife from his shoe and thrusts at me.
“Duck!” I roar.
The only thing that saves her life is that she does what I say straightaway, without questioning me. She ducks and the knife slices through the air above her head. The player is tall, reed-thin, with wispy stubble around his jaw. I guess he must be under twenty, a kid. They sent a kid to kill her.
I’m aware of the security rushing the player. And rushing me, too, because to them it must look like I’m part of the attack. But I ignore them all and charge at him. He jumps at Anna. Anna lurches back, all the way into the side of the rails hands covering her face. I run and for a long moment it’s like I’m in a nightmare where, no matter how fast I run, I’m destined to remain in the same spot. I imagine that I run and run and then Anna is killed in front of me anyway. Her blood pools out over the court and I collapse beside her, defeated. It’s now, in the madness of the fray, that I realize without a doubt that I love Anna, have loved her since the night I showed up at her door. Only she can distract me during a job, only she can make me lose my killer’s center.
Then the nightmare passes and I’m on him. I grab his wrist as he lifts it to take another swipe at her, and squeeze with every shred of strength I have. I squeeze until I feel the bone crunch in my hand, until he yelps and drops the knife on the court. He turns to me with an expression I had not expected. Not anger, or rage, but bemusement. It’s like he can hardly believe what he’s doing. He’s just a boy, I think, wondering how River managed to get him to do something so drastic. But the answer is plain, isn’t it? He’s just a boy, and River is skilled at capturing men with her body.
I tilt my head back, aim, and butt him hard in the nose. Blood gushes out and sprays over my face and he slides to the floor, collapsing onto his side, curled up in a ball and holding his hands to his nose.
I turn to Anna, my chest heaving. Not from tiredness, I know, but from fear: fear for Anna. “I made a mistake,” I say. “We should never have come here. We need to—”
A solid bodybuilder’s arm wraps around my neck and drags me backward. I crane my neck up, my legs kicking, and see one of the security guard’s tough faces glowering down at me. I grab him by the forearm and wrench at it, trying to yank him free. He grunts, but holds onto me, his grip solid.
“You don’t fucking understand,” I growl.
He just shakes his head and keeps dragging me backward. Now that the knife-wielding basketball player is no longer a threat, my focus expands and I see that the entire arena has erupted into madness. The crowd is jostling with each other, shoving and fighting, as though it only takes one small thing to make turn them into rioters. The announcer is screaming above the mayhem, but his voice is lost deep within the din. Everyone is screaming and shouting. I watch as Anna is gripped by the shoulder by her ginger friend and tugged toward the tunnel that leads to the cheerleaders’ changing room.
No, I think. No, no, no, no. Don’t let her out of my sight. Don’t do it.
I try to shout, but there’s a hand over my mouth. I thrash and kick, but there are three security guards on me now, one arm wrapped around my neck, the other around my midriff, and another gripping my legs. They pick me up and carry me toward an aisle opposite to the one down which Anna has just been dragged. I look around, trying to find River or one of her cronies. I see the men, The Gent and The Bear and The Pistol and The Butcher. They sit in their seats as though nothing has happened, and I know that they won’t move until River gives them a signal. Or maybe all of this was planned beforehand, right down to me stopping the assailant. Maybe it was the mayhem they counted on.
But if that’s the case, they’ve already failed. After a brief explosion, the crowd begins to settle down.
But that doesn’t help me. I’m carried down a tunnel, the court growing smaller and dimmer, and as much as I struggle, I can’t get free of the security guards.