37. Iris
Iris
I ’m shocked awake by the sound of gunshots. Two? Maybe three? I’m unsure.
I have no idea how long I’ve been out for after Gregor hit me. Now I’ve come to, I drag myself over to the mattress. I’ve tried to get a message to Sam and I have to hope he worked it out.
After what I heard, I assume he did.
I stand, wanting to move over to the window, see if there’s anything happening on this side of the house, but as soon as I do, the room spins, and my head throbs. I lean against the wall for stability, but the pain is too much and I slide back down to sit on the mattress.
Through the fog and the pain, my brain starts whirring.
Who had fired the gun and why was I still here minutes later?
Images of Sam being shot enter my mind and I dry reach.
I lean over the side of the mattress, not that it matters, there is absolutely nothing to come up anyway.
I can’t remember the last time I ate or drank.
Footsteps thunder down the hall, and the locks of my door click.
Matteas swings open the door so forcefully the handle goes through the plaster wall behind it.
His face is the image of rage. Skin red and shiny, his jaw is clenched so tightly the muscles in his cheeks and neck stand out like cables.
His eyes are wide and burn into me with such intensity, I have to look away.
I glance down at my hands for the briefest moment, take a deep breath and return my gaze to him.
‘Get up, you bitch,’ he says with gritted teeth.
I don’t move. Half frozen in place by fear and half stubbornness, not wanting to help this asshole.
He takes a step closer and I flinch. This makes him smile and I can’t believe this is a man who lived in our town, sent his child to kinder with mine. How could evil like this have lurked so closely to us this whole time?
Matteas reaches behind him and pulls a gun from his back pocket. My breath catches. ‘I said, get up.’
I’m not an idiot. I don’t want to die here. I want to get back to my three darling babies at home. I stand on wobbly legs, using the wall behind me to help.
Keeping the gun raised at me, Matteas takes another step closer and pulls me by the wrist. I stumble off the mattress, but his grip on my wrist keeps me upright. His fingers dig in and I know it’ll be another bruise to add to my growing collection. But I can handle a bruise. Less so a bullet.
‘Wh-what’s happening?’ I choke out, my throat as dry as the Simpson Desert.
‘Your little stunt happened,’ he says.
Still, I worry about the gunshots I already heard and who was on the receiving end of them. Please, not my Sam.
Matteas pulls me along the hallway. When we get to the front windows of the house Gregor is there, crouched behind the window, but there’s no sign of Eva or Archie.
I don’t give a shit what happens to Eva, but I do care about that boy.
He doesn’t deserve to be collateral damage in this chaos.
Outside the window, four police cars are lined up and behind them I can make out the shapes of officers with their guns drawn.
‘What’s the plan, boss?’ Matteas asks Gregor.
Without taking his gaze from the situation outside, Gregor says, ‘Use her as a shield. Make our demands. If they don’t comply, we shoot. I’m not going to prison.’
My blood boils knowing they’d rather die than be punished for what they’ve done. I pray the police can disarm them without killing them. I want them alive and punished, especially when this organisation must be bigger than these two men and Eva.
Matteas twists my arms so I’m facing him. ‘You should’ve minded your own fucking business.’ He spits in my face and shoves me toward the front door.
I try to wipe the saliva from my face with my free arm.
What a pig. But I’m also damn proud that I did it.
I destroyed their plans. I’m still not safe and I’m not sure I will be but these two men are at their crossroads thanks to me.
I’ll take the spit in the face any day to bring down these assholes.
Matteas stands to the side of the door, protected by the wall, and twists the handle.
‘Come out with your hands up,’ a deep voice yells from outside. Not Sam’s voice.
Matteas pushes me into the doorway. I have a clearer view now and see at least five officers with their guns aimed at the house.
Again, no sign of Sam. Was he part of the gunshots earlier?
Surely if someone had been hit, there’d be something happening out there to help the person.
Maybe they were warning shots, or perhaps Gregor is a bad shot.
The possibilities race through my mind but I need to keep my focus on staying alive right now.
I raise my hands, as instructed, and hope to God they recognise me.
Matteas steps out behind me and the unmistakable hard muzzle of his gun presses into my back.
‘Don’t fucking try anything,’ he whispers in my ear. He raises the gun to my temple. ‘Let us go, or the cop’s wife dies.’
Matteas carefully keeps his entire body hidden behind mine, crouching to make up for his height. There’s no way they can shoot him right now without risking hitting me.
The muzzle of the gun is cold on my skin but burns at the same time. I try not to picture the scene Sam would find if Matteas shot me right now. I try not to imagine how the children will go growing up without a mother. Stop Iris. Just stay alive.
‘Drop your weapon,’ one of the officers yells. He’s in the middle of the pack, a much older man, who I haven’t seen before at Sam’s station.
Matteas’ body stiffens behind me. He’s not getting his way and perhaps he isn’t as keen on going down in a hail of bullets as Gregor. He has a child and a wife somewhere. Possibly more to live for than Gregor, who’s calling the shots.
But in our positions, there’s still no clear shot on Matteas without hitting me.
‘Drop your weapon,’ the officer repeats.
‘You want to be responsible for killing a cop’s wife?’ Matteas responds, but there’s not a speck of confidence or authority in his voice, and I almost want to laugh at how pathetic he sounds.
The officer, who’d been yelling at Matteas makes a hand signal, and the other police officers begin to spread wide, still using their vehicles to shield them. However, now it’s harder for Matteas to watch all of them and for Gregor to keep his gun on them.
The move makes Matteas take a step back and I worry he’s going to drag me back into the house. He has one hand gripped on my arm and the other holding the gun. I want to be out here with the police. I don’t want to be taken back in there with him.
I take a steadying breath, look at the mental picture of my kids one last time, and then I drop a shoulder and turn my body.
Matteas pulls the trigger but I’ve put him off balance and he misses.
I dive away from him, hoping to clear any space between me and the police shooting at him.
Gunshots make my ears ring. A red flower blooms on Matteas’ chest. His eyes are wide before his body goes still.
The gun shots continue and splinters of wood from the old weatherboard house shower around me. Gregor isn’t going to back down until he’s run out of bullets.
And then it hits. A sharp pain in my upper arm.
Blood flows from a bullet wound near my shoulder.
Gregor shot me. I glance over at the window he’d been sitting behind.
His gun is back on the police now but he turns to me and his mouth lifts in a terrifying smirk.
He adjusts his aim so that I’m in his sights, just metres away on the other side of the window, an easy target.
I close my eyes, resigned to the fact this is it.