Forever Man by Brian Matthews Page A

started to turn back toward Owens, Izzy placed herself between the two men. She saw Sten let go of Denny, reach for his gun, and start running toward them.
    “Stanley!” she yelled, her ears ringing from the gunfire. Her own gun was in the paddle holster at her waist. She left it there. She refused to draw down on her husband. “Stanley, look at me!”
    He turned until he faced her. The barrel of the Glock was leveled at her chest, but Stanley seemed to be having a hard time holding the gun up. He was panting, his arms trembling. Again, his hands started to drift down.
    “Get out of the way, Iz,” he said evenly.
    “I’m not going to let you do this,” she said. Sten was now a few feet away, his pistol aimed at Stanley. And behind her, she could almost feel Owens’ tense presence. “Not to that man, not to yourself, not to us.”
    “Don’t make me shoot you.”
    “Drop the gun,” she said.
    “He killed Natalie!”
    “Drop the gun.”
    “He needs to pay for what he did!”
    “He will, but not this way.”
    “Move, damn it!” 
    “No,” she replied, swallowing hard. “I won’t. I guess you’ll have to shoot me”
    Stanley’s eyes flared with rage. His lips peeled back into a terrifying grimace. With a scream, he tried to jerk the gun up, but his hands wouldn’t move.
    Izzy felt hands grab her from behind and throw her aside. She hit the ground hard, rolled onto her back. Owens sprang forward. He grabbed Stanley by the wrists and wrenched his arms upward. They wrestled for several seconds, the gun pointed at the sky. Another shot split the air. Then Stanley threw his head back and shuddered. Owens yanked the gun free and tossed it to Sten, who easily caught it.
    Gasping for breath, Stanley went rigid. His complexion paled, his skin taking on the color of congealed bacon fat. His knees buckled. Owens eased him to the ground.
    Izzy scrambled over to her husband.
    “Iz,” he whispered. His eyes closed. “Hurts…oh, God.”
    “Bob,” Izzy called out. “Get an ambulance up here!”
    Stanley’s eyes fluttered open. His mouth opened. In a breathy voice, he said, “Pain…worse than before.”
    “Don’t talk,” Izzy said, tears running down her cheeks. “Save your strength.”
    “I…I’m….” His eyes opened wide. “Oh my—” Then he shuddered. His head slumped to one side.
    “Stanley!” Izzy shouted and shook him. When he didn’t respond, she checked for a pulse. “No!”
    She saw a flash of movement. Someone dropped to the ground across from her. Dark hands, one atop the other, fingers locked together, found a spot on her husband’s chest, just above the base of his sternum. Izzy looked up. Owens’ blue eyes met hers.
    “Breathe for him,” he said.
    Izzy stared numbly at the man, then she shifted to Stanley’s head and opened his airway. As she bent down to blow life back into her husband’s lungs, Owens began the chest compressions.
    It seemed like ages before she heard the wailing siren of the approaching ambulance.

 
     
Chapter 8
     
     
    Sounds floated in the air like big red balloons, bouncing off one another in lazy collisions that sent shimmering sparks raining down around Kevin Sallinen. He giggled, the echo of his own laughter making him happy. He felt the same way when his dad gave him chocolate milk with his Pop-Tart.
    “Smart tart milk fart,” Kevin said, breaking out into gales of laughter. He fell onto his back and bumped his head on the thick carpet of his bedroom floor.
    Flipping onto his stomach, he sprawled out, his laughter draining out of him in little sighs and hiccups. With his left cheek resting against the carpet, he flicked his finger at the thick fibers. Each scrape of his nail sent little plumes of dust billowing up like clouds rising into the sky. He blinked slowly as a tiny mote traveled across the long divide of his reach, sailing on crystal blue currents of air, to dance before him.
    “Who who who, Lindy Sue?”
    Kevin pursed his lips and