The Darkness - Jason Pinter [127]
Below us, on the basement landing, was a small pile
of black rocks. It was Darkness, the drug, the cherry
bomb Ramos was using to tear down the city. And I knew
what that basement was used for, and that I couldn't leave
without knowing for sure.
I nodded to Curt. He rolled his eyes, said, "Come on."
And he was on board to see what lay below us. To see
what kind of evil Eve Ramos had been waiting to unleash
upon this city.
51
The door below us opened with the same combination
as Curt's holding cell. And as soon as that smell hit our
nostrils, we knew what we'd found. It was only when we
entered the room that we saw the extent of it.
The basement of the warehouse was nearly the length
of a football field, and nearly every inch of it was piled high
with pills, rocks and powders of different sizes and concentrations. There were bags of powder stacked fifteen feet
high, piles of black rocks that you could literally dive into.
I lowered my gun, the blood draining from my face.
"Holy shit," Curt said beside me. "Are they supplying
the whole country?"
"That's the idea," I said. "First New York, then anywhere that needs a fix. And I don't see any mixing agents
or supplies here, so my guess is it's brought in across our
borders somehow.
"This is incredible," I said. "But we can't let it survive this."
"What do you mean?"
"Makhoulian," I said. "Who knows if he's the only cop
in on it? We let this stuff go into evidence, what are the
odds it leaks out? Seventy-five? Ninety?"
The Darkness
365
"So what do we do?" Curt said.
"I don't know, but this place has to burn."
As I said that, a hail of gunfire drilled the wall behind
us, sending us running for cover. It had come from
inside somewhere.
"I know you're in here, asshole," the voice yelled. It
was Rex Malloy. "Let's make this easy."
Another round let loose, this time grinding up a pile
of black rocks beside me, the dark soot raining into the
air, burning my eyes. I sure as hell hoped Curt was
counting this guy's rounds, too.
Curt was crouched behind a steel beam. He tried to
lean out to look, but gunfire drove him back behind it.
Asshole.
Only one asshole. That was my chance. Malloy
thought there was only one of us.
I ran around the side of one pile, then crouched down,
holding the gun in front of me. I tried to listen for footsteps, but heard nothing. Then more gunfire sounded,
aimed at Curt's hiding spot. It was a matter of seconds
before he got close enough to get a good shot.
I rounded the pile, gun outstretched, and saw two boot
heels pass me. Rex Malloy. He was closing in on Sheffield.
As he passed, I stepped out behind him and raised my
gun to his chest level. As Malloy raised his gun to fire, I
could see the side of Curt's face. And if I could see it,
Malloy could hit it. One shot. That's all I had.
So I pulled the trigger.
The force of the gunshot drove my hands upward, but
I didn't stumble. Rex Malloy grunted as he fell forward,
his rifle clattering to the floor as he fell. And then he lay
there, still.
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Jason Pinter
"Oh my God," I said, stepping over the body. "Oh my
God. Curt? You there?"
Sheffield came out from behind the beam. "Nice
shooting, Tex."
I looked at him, then felt like I was going to vomit.
Then something stirred, and I felt something crack the
side of my head.
I fell down, shook it off, and turned to see Rex Malloy
standing up. There was no blood, nothing. Then I saw
the hole in his vest. He rapped it once with his knuckle.
"Was a nice shot," he said. Then as he raised the rifle
toward me, a gunshot rang out and Malloy fell to one
knee, blood spurting from his leg. Curt ran up to us,
aimed at Malloy's head, but the man struck out lightning
quick and knocked the gun from Curt's hand. Then he
punched Curt in the throat.
Sheffield, wheezing, tried to catch his breath, but
Malloy was on top of him. He wrapped his hands around
Curt's throat and began to squeeze. My head throbbing,
I picked up Malloy's dropped rifle, ran over, and drilled
the butt into Malloy's head. He went down,