The First Councel

“It’s not too late,” Lamb says, sounding almost excited. “We can still make it work-just like I said. We stop him; we’re heroes. We can do it, Nora. We can. All you have to do is say the words. That’s all I ask, honey. Tell me I’m not alone.”

I nod at her to play along. She won’t even look at me. She takes one final sniffle and the tears are gone. Her eyes burn at Lamb. She licks her lips. With the taste of freedom on her tongue, Nora Hartson wants out.

I make one last attempt to get her attention, but she turns away. This isn’t about me. It’s about them.

“We can do it, Nora,” Lamb says, as she climbs to her feet. “Just like always. Our secret.”

Staring straight at her family’s closest friend, Nora stays silent. She’s trying to hide it, but his argument’s wearing her down. I see it in the rise and fall of her chest. Hunched over, she’s still breathing heavily. It’d be so easy to give up. Surrender now and blame everything on me. Searching for an answer, she touches her swelling eye. Then slowly, right in front of her face, she raises a defiant middle finger. “Rot. In. Hell,” she snarls.

When I turn to Lamb, his eyes, cheeks, lips… all his features fall. I expect him to lash out, completely crazed. Instead, he’s silent. Even more silent than usual. Clenched jaw. Stabbing stare. I swear, the room gets colder. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he eventually says without a hint of emotion in his voice. “But I want to thank you, Nora. You just made the decision that much easier.” Without another word, he turns the gun toward me.

“Michael!” Nora screams as she starts running.

As Lamb’s gun swings across the horizontal plane, I barely register what’s happening. I’m gaping down the barrel of the gun, and the whole world hits Pause. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nora launching herself at me. Frozen solid, I struggle to turn. There’s a coughing fluorescent light right over her head and a clear plastic fork discarded on the floor. A silenced shot explodes just as she crashes into me, face-to-face. I raise my arms, trying to catch her. A second shot erupts. Then another. And another.

Her head jerks back as she’s hit from behind. One. Two. Three. Four. Her body jolts as each one connects. We’re both thrown back by the impact, crashing into the guardrail.

“Nornie?” Lamb cries out, lowering his gun.

Falling to the floor, I barely notice him. “Nora, are you… ”

“I-I think I’m okay,” she whispers, struggling to raise her head. As she looks up, blood slowly creeps out of her nose and the corner of her mouth. “Is it bad?” she asks, reading the look on my face.

I shake my head, fighting against the tears that fill my eyes. “N-No-no. You’re gonna be fine,” I stutter.

Sinking in my arms, she ekes out a tiny smile. “Good.” She tries to say something else, but it gets lost. I cradle her head as she coughs blood all over my shirt.

Across the room, Lamb just stands there. Shaking. “Is she… is she… ”

I look back down, unable to think. “Nora-Nora-Nora!” She’s like a sack in my arms, but she manages to glance up at me. “I love you, Nora.”

Her eyes are fading. I don’t think she hears me. “Michael… ”

“Yeah?” I ask, leaning over.

Her voice isn’t even a whisper. Her breathing’s down to a low wheeze. “I… ” Her body heaves and the words stop. I shut my eyes and pretend to hear every syllable.

Trying to make it easier for her to breathe, I carefully lower her to the floor.

“I-Is she okay?” a voice cries out.

I slowly look up and my fists tighten. Straight ahead, all I see is Lawrence Lamb. Paralyzed, he’s still just standing there. His gun dangles from his fingertips. His mouth gapes open. Rooted in place, he looks devastated, like his whole world just evaporated. But the moment our eyes meet, his brow contorts in an angry furrow. “You killed her!” he growls.

Inside my chest, a volcano of rage explodes. I freight-train toward him as fast as I can. He raises his gun, but I’m already there. My good shoulder collides with his chest and sends him crashing into the wall. The gun goes flying.

Refusing to let up, I slam him back against the wall and punch him in the stomach. Lashing out, he takes a wild swing that connects with my jaw, but I’m way beyond the pain. “You think that’s gonna hurt me?” I shout as my fist crashes against his face. Over and over, I pound at the cut Nora opened on his cheek. Again. And again. And again.

Older and far slower, Lamb knows he can’t win a fight with someone half his age. Realizing he’s trapped, he circles away from the wall, back toward the center of the room. His eyes search wildly for the gun. They don’t find it. Gone is the stiff-jawed confidence that comes with being the President’s best friend. He looks like he’s about to fall over. The gash on his face is a bloody mess. “She never loved you,” he says, holding his cheek.

He’s trying to distract me. I ignore it and hit him in the jaw.

“She didn’t even pick you,” he adds. “She would’ve dated Pam if I said so-”