Page 99 of Omega

Harris, one large scarlet flower blooming wet over his heart. On his knees, one hand flat on the ground, head held up, right hand leveling his pistol at Vitaly. Harris’s whole body shook, but his gun hand was steady as a rock.BLAM!Vitaly’s left shoulder jerked backward, spouting red.

Vitaly turned in a clumsy circle, pistol dangling at his thigh, and ran in a lurch. No one stopped him, and he vanished around a corner.

Sirens howled.

Harris twisted, his elbow giving out, and he fell. He landed awkwardly, on his face and his side. He was bleeding front and back.

“NICK!” I heard myself scream, and felt myself fall to my knees beside him.

It was all happening in slow motion, and as if it was happening to someone else. I felt nothing, just vacant, numb, disbelieving. Outwardly, however, I was hysterical. Shrieking. Screaming. Sobbing.

“Lay—Layla.” Harris gasped. “Shut…shut the fuck up.”

I took his head onto my lap and stroked his face. “Nick. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“I—I know.” He handed me his phone. “Call…Thresh.”

Things happened to me, around me: an ambulance arrived and I was pried away from Nick—it took four men to get me away. I was piled into the ambulance, and two men in the blue paramilitary medic uniforms were operating on Nick, doing something to his back and then his front, trying to stop the bleeding.

I felt the phone in my hand, stared at it blankly. What was I supposed to do with this? Nick was unconscious.

Oh yeah, call Thresh.

I found his name under “favorites” and called him. It rang twice.

“Thresh,” came his chasmic voice.

“Thresh…It’s Nick. They shot Nick. He—Vitaly. He shot Nick.”

A pause. “Who the hell is Nick?”

I felt something hot and violent erupt inside me. “HARRIS! NICHOLAS HARRIS! Your fucking boss! Nicholas goddamned Harris, you fucking ape!”

“His name is Nick?” Thresh seemed truly baffled. “Huh.”

“THRESH!”

He sounded utterly unmoved. “Is he okay?”

“No, he’s not fucking okay!” I screamed. “He’s dying! He took—it was—Vitaly was trying to kill me, and Nick—Harris, he—”

“That’s what he does. It’s who he is.” I heard a motorcycle engine roar to life. “Have you gotten him medical attention?”

“Yes, I’m in an ambulance right now.”

“Where are you? Are you in Miami?”

“Yes, we’re—” I turned to one of the medics. “Where are we going? Which hospital?”

“Jackson Memorial,” came the terse answer.

“We’re going to—” I started to relay.

“I heard. I’m ten minutes away. I’ll meet you there.” The sound of the chopper engine being feathered. “Layla, did Harris get him?”

“Yes. He shot him five times. Four in the chest, one in the shoulder.”

“Did he drop? Did youseeVitaly die?”