After Wiley fell, Scott pointed the gun at Jake. "Don't move." Too much was happening too fast. Did his mother really shoot his sister? Her own daughter? He knew she had an evil, ruthless side, but he never thought she would harm her only daughter.
"Rebecca." His mother cried out. She grabbed her chest and doubled over. "Oh God, what have I done?"
He looked at his sister. The side of her white blouse covered in blood.
She outstretched her bloody hand. "Scott. Mother."
He turned around and saw his mother lying on the floor clutching her chest. His father's leather journal had fallen beside her.
The young man named Jake stepped forward.
Scott pointed the gun at him. "Stop."
"I need to help the President," he said. "Please. Let me help your sister."
He looked at his sister and then his mother. "Okay. Help her. And you." He aimed the gun at the young woman. For some reason, he was afraid of her. "Sit down against the wall. And don't move."
"No. I need to help Mr. Wiley," she yelled.
"He'll be fine." Katzer waved the barrel toward Wiley then back at her. "You, stay still."
He knelt down beside his mother. Her wrinkled face was fully red. Her hand still clutching her chest, fingers squeezed tight. "Mother. Mother. Can you hear me?"
"My journal." His mother raised her head and stretched her arm across the floor. "My journal." Her eyes momentarily opened wide then slowly closed for the last time. Her head fell to the floor.
His sister cried out. "Mother. No." She started sobbing.
Jake sat down beside the President and checked her wound. The bullet made an entrance and exit wound, a superficial injury, about two inches above her hipbone. Fortunately for the world, she was not gravely injured. He held pressure on her wound while the President watched her mother collapse to the floor and die. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She buried her head into Jake's chest. He wrapped his free arm around her.
"Mr. Katzer," Jake said. "Your sister is President of the United States and she needs your help. She needs medical attention. We must get her out of here."
Jake looked at the old woman curled in the fetal position on the floor, hand still clutching her chest. Her painful expression had turned peaceful. It would remain a mystery why she shot her own daughter. Probably a misfire when Rebecca Rudd grabbed the gun.
"Scott," Rudd called out. "Why? Why did all this happen?"
Katzer sat on the floor next to his dead mother. He let the gun rest on his leg, hand still grasping the grip, finger still on the trigger. "I don't know. You've been gone a long time. You don't know Mother like I do. She's not a good person."
"How long have you known about our father? About that book?" Rudd asked.
"A long time, Rebecca."
Francesca moved and Katzer raised the gun. "I said don't move." She raised her hands.
"Ten years? Twenty?" Rudd asked. "Why didn't she say something? Why didn't she stop me from running for President?"
"I think it all happened so fast and you were so excited and enthusiastic about helping the nation and the people. She couldn't bear to crush your dreams." Katzer let the gun rest on his leg again. "She made me do things to protect you. Horrible things."
"Horrible things? What do you mean?" Rudd groaned as she tried to move. "You mean kill people?"
"No. All I did was capture them. Mother did all the killing." Katzer's voice choked. "She tortured the first woman. Strapped her to that table and tortured her. She burned her with the heat spatula and when she found out she wasn't the woman with the book, she went crazy and killed her. She stuck a drain in her jugular and bled her out. Right here on the table." He stared into his sister's eyes. "But I would have killed to protect you…your reputation. We're family. That's what family does, protect each other."
"No. No." Rudd started weeping harder. "This is wrong. This is a nightmare."
Wiley grunted and mumbled.
Katzer turned his head to look.
Jake saw Francesca make her move and shoved Rudd to the floor, shielding her body with his. Rudd groaned in agony. He kept his hand pressed against her wound while he held her down.
The blade of Francesca's dagger struck Katzer in the chest just below his left collarbone. He yelled and fired a shot at Francesca. He missed. Francesca ran toward Katzer. Katzer raised the gun again and fired.
"Scott. No." Rudd yelled.
His second shot missed.
Francesca kept running.
Katzer's third shot struck Francesca in the upper arm. Shaken, she slowed but kept attacking. Katzer was on his feet by the time Francesca reached him. She grabbed him and their momentum carried them against an embalming table. Katzer pushed her away, grabbed the HVAC hood, and smashed it against her head. She staggered back. Blood trickled from her forehead. He kicked her in the stomach. When she doubled over, he slammed his fist into the back of her head knocking her to the floor.
Jake heard Wiley's voice.
Wiley pushed up on one elbow. "Jake, I'll take care of Rebecca."
Jake sprang to his feet and lunged at Katzer striking his arm. Katzer's gun clattered across the floor. He jabbed Katzer in the ribcage. The older man grunted and stepped back. He threw another punch at Katzer's chin but whiffed. Katzer's long arm made a roundhouse swing at Jake, landing squarely on his jaw.
Katzer was taller than Jake with a longer reach. He was also stronger than Jake had anticipated, especially for a man in his sixties. The jolt made his knees momentarily weaken.
He dove into Katzer, knocking him to the floor. He grabbed the dagger, still stuck in Katzer's chest, and wrenched it from side to side. Katzer screamed. The man's face turned blood red. During the struggle Katzer managed to grab his handgun and, before Jake knew what happened, pistol-whipped him across the side of the head. He fell flat on his back and Katzer pounced on top of him with his hand gripped around Jake's throat.
In a daze, Jake's head pounded.
"Scott. Stop!" Rudd screamed.
Katzer ignored his sister's pleas.
Jake grappled at Katzer's hands but couldn't pry the man's fingers free from the death grip around his neck. He couldn't breath. He swung at the older man, but the man's long arms kept him at bay. His breathing labored. Vision blurred.
He knew he only had seconds before he'd black out. His ears started ringing. How did this old man get the upper hand? This man was President Rebecca Rudd's brother. For her sake, he'd tried not to use lethal force on her brother, even though the man clearly didn't feel the same way. But now it was a matter of survival. All bets were off.
Katzer pointed the gun at Jake's face.
Jake stealthily slipped his right hand to his waist searching for his knife. He pulled it out and with the flick of his thumb the spring-assisted blade snapped open. As he readied his arm to plunge the blade into the man's gut, the deafening blast from a gun fired at close range pounded in his ears.
Katzer's shirt turned red. Blood splattered on Jake's face. The man fell on top of him. Jake felt the full weight from Katzer's body squeezing him next to the floor. He heaved the lifeless man, rolling him to the side, and turned to see where the shot came from.
President Rebecca Rudd's hands shook as she held the gun.
Rudd was hysterical. Her eyes streamed tears. "Is he alive?" Her fingers slowly opened and the gun dropped to the floor.
Jake leaned down and checked for a pulse. There was none. The President of the United States had witnessed her mother die of a heart attack and then killed her twin brother.
"No, ma'am. Your brother is dead."
Francesca found bandages and alcohol in a closet and brought them to Wiley.
"How's the head?" Jake asked Francesca.
"Pounding. How's yours?"
"The same."
She cleaned and dressed the wounds of the injured Rudd and Wiley.