“Get him out,” he said to one of the other officers, who lifted the wounded officer. They limped out of the room as Parr went to the door. It led out to a hallway with three rooms on one side and two on the other. He thought about waiting for SWAT to join him, but he could hear the firefight still raging in the next building.
He made a flurry of hand signals, directing two officers down one side of the hallway and two down the other. He and Javier took the right side. Parr slid along the wall, keeping low. He passed quickly by the first door, glancing in. It was an empty bathroom. He was about to turn away when he noticed the cupboards underneath the sink. He leaned down and opened them. A man was curled up tightly, his back to Parr.
Parr whispered, “I’m about to blow your brains over that Lysol bottle. You have one chance to live. Show me your hands and quietly climb out.”
The man, shaking, showed his hands and began to slip out. Javier searched him and placed cuffs on him, pinning his hands behind his back.
They moved on to the next room. Parr glanced over at Jay and the other officer, who had just come out of a room across the hall. They shook their heads. Parr turned to the room in front of him and went inside. It was a child’s bedroom. There were stuffed animals on the bed and toys strewn across the floor. Behind the dresser was a young girl, no more than twelve. Parr put his finger to his lips. “Shh,” he said as he pulled her out.
She had been crying, and he gently placed his hand on her shoulder and sat her down. He leaned close and whispered, “I don’t want to hurt anyone here. Tell me where your parents are so that more people don’t have to get hurt.”
“They’re not my parents,” she whispered back, anger in her voice.
Parr looked around the room. The closet was open. Lingerie hung on hangers, along with high heels meant for a child. Rage tingled down his spine.
“Wait here for me. I’ll be right back.”
“No, don’t leave me.” She grabbed his arm. “Please.”
“Sweetie, I will be right back. You just sit here and wait for me.”
She began to cry. “No, no please.”
Parr looked at Javier. “Get her outta here.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Do it now.”
Parr stood up and went back into the hallway as Javier lifted the girl in his arms. He nodded to him as he turned and went back down the hall to the exit. Jay and the officer came out of the last room on their side of the hall, shaking their heads. There was one room left, and the door was closed.
Parr stood in front of the door, sweat rolling off his face and onto his arms and hands. He watched three drops trickle down. No sounds came from the room. He placed his hand on the knob, twisted, and pushed open the door.
Brody was sitting in a chair, smoking a joint. Three Rottweilers, thick chains around their collars, waited at his feet. Brody held the end of the chains in the same hand holding the joint. In the other hand was a 12-gauge shotgun.
“Mornin’.” He flicked the joint onto the floor, and with it, the chains.
The dogs rushed forward. Parr lifted his weapon, but teeth clamped down on his arm and twisted him to the side. Another dog bit into his thigh as Jay lifted his weapon. A thunderous boom ricocheted around the room as Brody’s weapon tore Jay’s leg in half, and he fell to the floor screaming.
The terrified uniformed officer stepped back into the hall as Brody rose to his feet and fired another round. The third dog chased the officer, who got off one round, which went into the ceiling when the dog tore into his inner thigh.
Parr saw the massive amount of blood pouring out of him onto the hardwood floors. The Rottweiler on his arm twisted so hard that he flew into nearby boxes. The second dog had a death grip on his thigh and refused to let go. The dog on his arm released its grip and went for his throat.
Parr held up his forearm to block it, and the dog ripped into it so violently that a spray of warm blood hit Parr’s face like rain. It jerked its head back and forth, sliding Parr across the floor like a rag. He lifted his other hand and saw that his gun was gone. The dog on his thigh tried to pull him farther down, and Parr jabbed his finger into its eye hard enough to pry it from its socket. Howling in pain, the dog released its grip.
Parr spotted his gun next to a closet door. He lunged for it just as the other dog leapt for his face again. He pulled up his gun and fired a round into the dog’s brain. With a whimper, the lifeless body fell on top of him. He swung around, pressed the muzzle against the other dog’s ear, and fired. It didn’t let go. He fired again and again, until finally, the dog went limp, but it still didn’t let go. He pried open its jaws and got to his feet. The burning pain of torn flesh rocketed through his leg. Brody was nowhere to be seen.
Parr limped to the wall and leaned against it, his gun near his face. He lowered his gun and went to the door, sliding against the wall because he was unable to walk without support. He peeked out. The uniformed officer was on his stomach, a large pool of blood around the gushing wound in his back. Muffled screams came from the room where he had left the girl.
Pushing one hand against the wall, he hobbled around to the door and glanced in then quickly backed away. He’d seen Brody on the floor, the girl held between his arms, and a dog next to them. He hadn’t seen Javier. Parr looked back in.
“Howdy,” Brody said. His face was bright crimson, his eyes so red Parr thought they might have been bleeding.
“Let her go.”
“Now why would I do that? Me and this little darlin’ have had some fun times. Haven’t we, Daisy?”
Parr stepped slowly into the room.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Brody said. “One word, and my pup there’ll rip out her throat. Or maybe I’ll just blow her head clean off and dirty that nice dress’a hers.”
Parr could see the shotgun lying next to Brody. Both his hands were on the girl.
“The gunfire’s stopped,” Parr said. “You’ve lost. Let her go.”
“Why you all come here anyway? We didn’t do nothin’. We just wanted to be left alone.”
“You didn’t do nothin’? What about her?”
“You didn’t know about her when you’s came. No one did. This here’s a little Southern peach we picked up in Louisiana. No way you knew about her.”
“Freddy Steed.”
He laughed. “All this bullshit over a queer like Freddy Steed? Fuck Freddy Steed.”
“You killed him.”
“Fuck yes, I killed him. I can’t have no fudge-packers in my city. That other queer, Tyler-that queer’s gonna get what’s comin’ to him, too. I can tell you that.”
“They were lovers?”
“They weren’t lovers,” he said angrily. “Queers can’t be lovers. They can just be queers.”
“Well, you’ll find out soon enough in the can.”
He smirked. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I can’t live in a cage.”
Parr looked at the dog then down at the shotgun. Brody moved behind the girl, shielding most of his body with hers. For a moment, neither of them moved or even breathed. They existed in that moment separately, but they knew it was the last moment of one of their lives, and they shared something. It was brief, like a flash of heat that comes and goes, but Parr recognized it. He closed his eyes, just for a fraction of second, and as he opened them, the gun came up.
Brody released the girl, and the dog lunged for her. Parr fired right through the dog’s throat, and it collapsed into a heap of growling pain, blood, and wet fur. The blast from the shotgun struck Parr like a truck, and he flew backward, off his feet, and hit the wall in the hallway. He slid down to the floor, and as he did so, he fired his last three rounds as Brody got to his feet with his shotgun at his shoulder for better aim.