Page 76 of Hush

Mike shook his head. “I don’t know.” He shifted, putting himself in front of Tom and pressing Tom almost into the planter, as if he could merge him with the concrete and hide Tom in the stone. “Jesus Christ. JesusfuckingChrist. I have to get you out of here.”

“The Russian president? Is he…”

Again, Mike shook his head. “Dunno. Looks fucking bad.”

Tom tried to look over the planter, tried to look back at the Capitol, but Mike grabbed him and turned him away. “Don’t look, Tom. You don’t need to see that.” Mike’s voice shook, trembling. His hands were warm where he grabbed Tom’s face, held him a little roughly.

But he had, he’d already seen. A kaleidoscope of death, of nightmares, of terror. Dead bodies sprawled in the sun, blood on the Capitol steps, rivers of it running down the marble like Slinkys racing for the bottom.

Tom turned his face into Mike’s shoulder and screamed.

Chapter 18

Mike walked Tom into the house and led him to the kitchen, physically putting him into one of his kitchen chairs. Etta Mae, oblivious to the tectonic shift in reality, scampered to them both, leaping up and putting her front paws in Tom’s lap.

Tom buried his face in Etta Mae’s neck.

The TV winked on, news blaring. Every channel was covering the shooting, the attack on the Capitol. News anchors stammered through what they knew, tried to interview bystanders and witnesses. Cameras panned over the Capitol steps, the bloodstains, the FBI agents scurrying like ants over every square inch. DC Metro police units raced up and down DC streets.Manhunt for shooter, the crawl screamed in capital letters.Search for DC Capitol Sniper Ongoing.

A glass of water appeared on the table in front of him. Mike crouched between his knees, beside Etta Mae. He reached for Tom, cupping his cheek. “I have to go. I’m getting called in. All-hands-on-deck for this search.”

Tom nodded. “I know.” His voice didn’t shake, and he was absurdly proud of that. He leaned into Mike’s touch and closed his eyes. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.” Mike didn’t hesitate. “Promise me you will stay inside. Lock all the doors. All the windows. Don’t open the door for anyone.”

“Except you.”

“Stay inside. Stay safe. Whoever did this is on the run or in hiding, and as we close in on them, they might try to flee. Escape and hide. Take a hostage.” Mike’s thumb ran over Tom’s cheek. “Stay here with Etta Mae. Go upstairs. Watch the news in bed.”

Tom nodded again. “I will. Will you let me know you’re okay? When you can?”

“We’ll be moving fast, but I’ll text you. I promise.” Mike leaned in, kissed him hard, holding his face gently. “It’s going to be okay,” he breathed against Tom’s lips. “We’ll get this asshole.”

Tom pulled out his keys from his pocket and removed his house key from the ring. He had a spare he’d thought about giving Mike, but now he’d just put that one on his own ring. Tom pressed it into Mike’s hands. “Go get him and them come back to me.” Tom kissed him once, twice. “Go. They need you.”

Mike palmed the key, kissed his forehead, lingered, and then rose. There was nothing more to say, and he hustled out of Tom’s house as he pulled out his cell. He dialed as he shut the door, and Tom heard the heavy slide of the deadbolt a second after he left.

And then Tom was alone, left with the blaring TV, the shaking voices of the anchors, and the images that played on an endless loop. White marble, red blood, blue sky.

And when he closed his eyes, he saw the fallen bodies, their limbs sprawled across the steps like broken rag dolls.

He did what Mike said, went upstairs with Etta Mae and crawled into bed. His sheets smelled like Mike.

The TV in his bedroom played the news as he held the pillow Mike had slept on to his chest. Mike’s scent calmed him, and he buried his nose in the pillow as he watched the cascading news reports. A battalion of news organizations camped outside George Washington University Hospital, waiting for any update on the Russian president, rushed into surgery. The hospital might have been a vault for all the news that leaked out.

Mike texted throughout the afternoon, the evening.

[Search closing in on Penn Quarter and Federal Triangle]

[Forensics suggest Penn quarter. Bullet from one of fallen USSS agents shows trajectory.]

[Gearing up for house-to-house search.]

Stay safehe texted back. God, stay safe, Mike.

President McDonough addressed the nation, speaking about the fallen Secret Service agents, and the fallen Russian security man. “We have lost great men today, men who gave their lives in service of their country. Men who represent the greatest values of the American spirit: bravery, fidelity, and a commitment to their fellow man.”

Noticeably absent was any mention of the Russian president.