Behind the Lens (Behind the Lives) (52 page)

32

Corey

Corey lay on the cold
concrete behind a car, sobbing uncontrollably as Ant and Nike fired at each
other. He didn’t care about getting shot, didn’t fucking care at all, because
all he cared about was Sledge, and he was gone. But Sledge couldn’t be dead, he
couldn’t be!

The
gunfire stopped, Ant’s relieved voice following. “Looks like he’s run out of
bullets.” He opened the car door and grabbed Corey’s arm. “Get in!”

“No!”
Corey screamed, yanking free.

Ant
grabbed him again, pushing him towards the backseat. Corey kicked out, clipping
Ant in the shin. Ant yelped and whacked the back of Corey’s head hard, making
him holler.

Nike’s
voice travelled across the street. “Don’t hurt him!”

“I
wouldn’t if the little fucker did what he was told!”

“He
doesn’t wanna go with you; just take me as a hostage instead!”

Ant
let go of Corey and angled his gun over the car’s bonnet. “How ’bout I just
shoot you, traitor?”

“I
can help you, I’ve got skills.”

“Not
the type I want; Corey has those in abundance, and I’m not holding him hostage,
I’m taking him. He’s mine.”

“No,
I’m not!” Corey kicked out again, hitting Ant in the same place.

Ant
swore, then stomped on Corey’s ankle, making him scream, the pain too much. He
swiped out at Ant’s leg, but Ant ground his ankle, causing Corey to scream
louder.

“Ant!”
Nike yelled. “Stoppit. NOW!”

Ant
removed his foot, and said something, but Corey couldn’t take it in, the pain
in his ankle too intense. Ant dropped down next to him, asking him a question,
then took a hold of his ankle, making Corey cry out. It felt as bad as when his
leg had been broken, if not worse.

Ant
swore. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Liar!”
Corey yelled. “I hate you! I fuckin’ hate you!”

Ant’s
expression hardened, terrifying Corey into silence. He covered his face with
his arms, crying out as Ant yanked them back down. He tried to pull free, but
Ant held onto him tight, making him scream.

Ant
jammed a hand over his mouth, and pushed him flat onto the ground. “I won’t
hurt you any more, just as long as you stop fighting me and get in the car.”

“No!”
Corey yelled into Ant’s hand.

Ant
removed his hand and slapped Corey’s face, making him cry out again. “Do as
you’re fucking told or I’ll make your life more miserable than it already is.”

“Why
won’t you leave me alone?” Corey sobbed.

“Because
I want you, so get in.”

“You
murdered who I want!” Expecting another slap, Corey turned his head. His face was
on fire, his ankle was killing him, and he could barely breathe, his nose
blocked from crying.

Nike
called out: “You’re wasting your time with him! Take me instead!”

“No!”
Ant yelled back. “He’s coming, and the sooner he learns that the easier things
will be, so piss off before I kill you, Nike!”

“I
swear I can help you.”

“By
shooting at me!”

“I
wuz ordered to, and I’ve stopped now.”

“I
can’t trust you.”

“You
hafta if you wanna get away. I can hot wire that car, cos I’m guessing you
can’t, which is why you’re still here.”

Ant
swore under his breath. “Smart fucker.”

“So,
do ya want my help? Cos when I left I saw coppers swarming the grounds, some
might even be coming this way right now.”

“What
do
you
get out of this?”

“Money;
and I expect shitloads of it.”

Ant
went quiet for a moment, then swore again. “Okay, but make sure I can see your
hands. One wrong move and I’ll shoot your cock off.”

A
few seconds later, Nike appeared around the car’s bonnet with his hands held
high. Ant indicated to the car with his gun. “Hurry up. Get Corey in.”

Corey
looked up as Nike lowered himself down, the guy’s hard expression softening. “You’ll
be alright, mate,” he said, sliding his arms under Corey, then he lurched
forward, covering Corey with his body, yelling: “Now!”

A
gun went off, followed by Ant hollering in pain. He fell backwards, dropping
his own gun as he hit the ground. Nike let go of Corey and launched himself at
Ant, who yelled out in pain again. Nike grabbed the gun and rolled off him,
kicking out as Ant clamped onto his leg. He turned and aimed the gun at Ant,
but got it knocked sideways, a shot firing off into the concrete. Ant latched
onto Nike’s hands, both of them struggling for the gun.

A
deep voice boomed. “Let him go, Ant!” Saul appeared around the car with another
gun.

Corey
screamed: “Kill him!”

Ant
pushed off Nike, his gaze now firmly fixed on Saul. “You’ll lose out big time
if you kill me, Saul. Since my father’s gone, I can split the business with
you. You can have the drugs side of things.”

“I’m
a cop.”

“Which
pays shit,” Ant said, clutching his wounded shoulder. “You can do better with
me, and you can also have my stepmother. I know you want her. All you have to
do is say yes and she’s yours.”

“I
don’t want Talia, I want Beth.”

“Then
she’s yours; I’ll make it happen.”

“No!”
Corey yelled, now panicked that Saul would take the deal. “He killed Sledge!”

“Sledge
isn’t dead,” Saul said. “He’s been taken to the hospital.”

“What?”
Corey said, not believing his ears.

“He’s
alive, but critical.”

“Then
take me! Please!”

Saul
looked like he wasn’t sure what to do, as though he was seriously considering
Ant’s offer, then he focused on Nike. “Take Corey back, Nike.”

“No!”
Ant yelled.

Saul
cocked the gun, making Ant back up. “The boy’s leaving unless you want to be
buried next to your father.”

Ant
shook his head. “You’re being a fool, Saul. With me you’ll have everything,
with the law you’ll lose it all, including your job and freedom. You’ve killed
for my father, they won’t let that pass.”

Saul
grimaced. “I wasn’t given a choice.”

“Yes
you were. And I’ll make sure your bosses know that. You’ll be the one going to
prison, not me.”

“You’re
just giving me reasons to kill you.”

Ant’s
face dropped. “No, no, if I’m dead you won’t get a cent.”

“I’m
not interested in money; all I want is you in prison.” Saul indicated to Corey.
“Hurry up, Nike, take him.”

Nike
dropped down and slipped his arms under Corey, grunting as he lifted him, the
look on his face pained. He staggered a few steps, then rested Corey on the car
bonnet.

“You
alright, Nike?” Saul asked.

“I
just need a sec.”

“Is
that blood yours?”

“Yeah,
one of Ant’s bullets grazed my arm.”

“Then
I’ll carry Corey, while you take Ant in.”

“No,
otherwise I’ll be goin’ down for murder.” Nike hoisted Corey up again, and
resumed walking, his gait now more assured.

Corey
peered over Nike’s shoulder as Saul pushed Ant forward, the look on Ant’s face
furious. He had a hand to his shoulder and his eyes locked onto Corey. He
mouthed something that Corey couldn’t decipher, except for the ‘you’ at the
end.

“I
hope you rot in jail, you fuckin’ arsehole!” Corey screamed at him.

“I
won’t get jail time! I’ll buy the best lawyers—” Ant hollered as Saul hit him
over the head with the gun.

Saul
shoved Ant hard, almost making him fall over. “Shut your mouth and walk!”

Swearing,
Ant righted himself, then continued to follow Nike and Corey. He sneered at
Corey and rubbed his fingers together, his message clear. Corey buried his face
into Nike’s shoulder.

After
several minutes, Nike finally staggered through the back gate and onto Craven’s
property. He passed Corey over to the closest blue-clad cop, saying: “Take him
to the hospital,” then collapsed.

Saul
handed Ant over to another cop, then got down on his knees and ripped open
Nike’s shirt, the hole in Nike’s arm definitely not a graze. He yelled out to
an ambulance officer, who came running over.

The
cop holding Corey started walking away, Corey praying that Nike was going to be
alright. The man carried Corey around the side of the house, stopping behind
the first ambulance, where a medic was closing the door. “You got room in
there?” the cop asked. “This one looks like he’s got a busted ankle.”

“Yes...”

Corey
looked over the cop’s shoulder as the medic asked the man a few questions. The
front yard of the mansion was full of people, along with a few ambulances, and
a number of cop cars and paddy wagons. People were being lined up and
questioned by police, some of them reacting angrily while quite a few were
crying. The painted workers had blankets around them along with the fat cowboy,
although the man also had the addition of handcuffs on his wrists as a
policeman directed him to a cop car. The redhead who’d been with him was lifted
up on a stretcher, the man almost hysterical. A policewoman went to his side,
calming him down. Corey screwed up his face, knowing that could’ve easily been
him, but also knowing his own outcome was even worse with Sledge getting shot.

The
ambulance doors were reopened. Corey was lifted and placed on a gurney next to
Dante, who was lying still, with a sheet up to his neck, seemingly asleep,
although the blood through his hair suggested something else. Kara was sitting
on Dante’s other side, holding his hand. She had a blanket around her, and was
talking to Dante softly. Black mascara streaked her upper cheeks, while
bruising was noticeable where her makeup had come off.

“Can
he hear you?” Corey asked, wondering why Kara was talking.

“No,
he’s unconscious,” Kara replied in her heavy accent.

“Where’s
my sister?”

“I
don’t know,” Kara squeezed Dante’s hand, “but it shows how much she loves
Dante, taking off like that.”

“She
loves him lots, and she’s pro’bly got a good reason why she isn’t here.”

“Doubt
it, unless she was shot.”

“She
wuzn’t! I saw her when I wuz being dragged away.”

“Do
you love your boyfriend?”

“Yes.
What’s that gotta do with Beth?”

“Plenty.
Tell me why you’re here and not with him?”

“I
already told ja why.”

“Say
it again.”

“I
wuz forcibly dragged away.”

“So,
you would be with him and not here, because you love him so much that nuthin’
and no one else matters?”

“Of
course.”

“Which
is why I love Dante more than Beth.”

Corey
went to disagree, but instead closed his mouth, wondering whether Kara was
right, but he’d seen Beth drop down to help Sledge. Maybe she was with him.

The
ambulance door closed, shutting them in, then the engine started. Corey closed
his eyes and did the sign of the cross, praying with all his heart and soul
that Sledge wasn’t going to die.

***

Corey watched Beth and Kara glare
at each other over Dante’s hospital bed. Both of them were holding one of
Dante’s hands, claiming the unconscious man. Dante had woken up once in the
ambulance, but had gone nuts when he didn’t see Beth, one of the medics needing
to sedate him in the end. Now he was sleeping peacefully, although God only
knew how with the two women every so often barking at each other like Pit Bull
terriers. But at least their man was safe, unlike his, who was still on the
operating table, almost three hours after they’d brought him in. Corey closed
his eyes, the memory of Ant pulling the trigger returning. He’d been terrified,
thinking that the bullet was meant for him, that he was going to die, then
Sledge had collapsed, making him wish he’d been shot instead.

He
covered his face and started rocking back and forth in the hospital wheelchair;
just wishing that someone would tell him that Sledge was going to live.
Footsteps approached him, but he kept his hands over his face, unable to handle
pretending he was all right when he was dying inside.

“Sledge
will pull through, hun,” Beth said, wrapping her arms around him.

Corey
uncovered his face and pushed her away, feeling bad about doing it, but unable
to stop himself, the anger he was feeling now taking over. “No one can survive
a bullet to the head!” he yelled.

“Yes
they can,” Kara said, capturing his attention.

“You’re
just saying that to make me feel better,” he replied, not appreciating it.

“No
I’m not. My
sistra
survived a head shot.”