Chapter 14
At first I thought it was a man who needed help.
That lasted maybe half a second.
He wore gray sweatpants and no shirt.
Mid-forties.
Heavyset.
Blood covered his chest.
One side of his face looked wrong.
Not simply injured.
Torn.
His left ear was gone.
He looked at us.
Or through us.
Then stepped into the stairwell.
Tanner whispered, "Jesus."
The man lunged.
Not at Tanner.
At Mrs. Patel.
I moved before I had time to decide.
I stepped between them and swung the hammer.
I aimed for his head.
I missed.
The hammer struck high on his shoulder.
A hard, ugly crack.
The man's body twisted sideways.
The impact traveled through my wrist and into my forearm.
For one instant, I was certain I'd stopped him. I'd hit another human being as hard as I could with a steel hammer.
His arm sagged strangely.
Broken.
The shoulder visibly lower than the other.
I broke his shoulder.
He turned toward me.
No scream. No protective movement. He simply came forward again.
I froze for half a beat.
That nearly killed me.
I swung again.
The hammer struck his chest.
Bone gave beneath it.
He stumbled.
Kept coming.
My brain rejected it.
People stopped when you hurt them. Pain and broken bones mattered.
This man had a useless arm and a damaged chest and was still trying to reach my face with his mouth.
I shoved him with my left hand.
He caught the front of my shirt.
His fingers were cold.
That detail stayed with me. Not cool from the stairwell. Cold.
I swung at his face.
The hammer hit his jaw sideways.
Teeth flew.
His head snapped back.
He made a thick choking noise.
His grip tightened.
I lost my balance.
My shoulder hit the wall.
The back of my head struck concrete hard enough to flash white across my vision.
Someone behind me screamed.
I swung again.
This time the hammer hit the side of his skull.
A sound I will never forget.
Not a clean crack.
Something softer underneath it.
The man dropped to one knee.
I stared down.
He lifted his head.
Still moving.
Still reaching.
"Oh my God."
I hit him again.
Top of the skull.
He fell.
Again.
The hammer sank farther than it should have.
When I tried to pull it free, it stuck for a fraction of a second.
I jerked it loose.
The man's body settled.
The alarm continued.
I stood over him with the hammer raised.
My chest heaved.
My right hand had gone almost numb.
Blood dotted my shirt.
Somebody grabbed my shoulder.
I spun.
The hammer came up.
Dombrowski recoiled.
"It's me."
I nearly hit him.
"Oh God."
"It's me, Gabe."
I lowered the hammer.
"I—"
My stomach rolled.
I bent forward and vomited against the stairwell wall.
Mostly water and granola bar.
My whole body shook.
My wrist throbbed.
Behind me, Tanner said, "We have to move."
I looked at the body.
A man.
I had killed a man.
No.
He had already—
Had he?
I didn't know anything.
All I knew was that a broken shoulder and smashed jaw had not stopped him. Destroying his head had.
Something moved in the second-floor hallway.
Dombrowski grabbed the top of my backpack.
"Gabe."
I looked up.
A woman appeared through the open doorway.
The woman who had knocked on my apartment.
Blood covered the front of her pajama shirt now.
Part of one sleeve was torn away.
Her eyes found us.
She moved toward the stairwell.
I no longer wondered whether she needed help.
"Go."
We ran.