One Hundred Twelve

ONE HUNDRED TWELVE

TOO MUCH SAND AND slope and distance between the shooter and me. I wait for him to turn and fire at me, but he doesn't, and I can almost make him out as he runs into the woods, heading south, in the general direction of the parking lot.

A man, tall and slender, wearing dark clothes. Maybe black clothes.

Eric Jacobson was dressed in black when he came to my house.

I'm the one sprinting back to where I left Jimmy.

I slide down the dune. I spot Licata moving in a crouch of his own along the thickest woods over there, as if he's after Jimmy now, and not the other way around.

In the light of the moon, I see the blue cap and the glint of Licata's gun.

The only shooter I can worry about in the moment is him.

Licata isn't looking in my direction as I crawl, gun in hand, slowly through the sand in his direction.

Where is Jimmy?

I know I'm finally close enough to take the shot if I want it.

No time to wait for Jimmy, or for Licata to take the first shot if he spots me.

Just Anthony Licata and me now at the bottom of the dunes.

"Drop it, Licata," I shout at him now. "Or I will shoot you dead."

He freezes.

"Okay," he shouts back. "Okay."

I see him turn, slowly raising his hands, until he's facing me.

But as I move toward him, the world begins to spin.

I'm dizzy again, the way chemo makes me dizzy sometimes, the way I was dizzy that night at the restaurant before I fainted.

As I struggle to maintain my balance, I lower my gun to my side.

As my arm drops, Licata raises his and fires.

But I'm already falling as he does.

Going down again.

Just not down and out this time.

I may be dying, but not tonight.

Licata's bullet sails over my head as I hit the ground.

His second shot misses, too, but not by much, the bullet spraying sand against my leg. Then I'm rolling away from that spot, expecting another wave of dizziness as I keep rolling in the sand.

It doesn't come.

I won't let it.

I'm Jane Effing Smith.

I pull out of the roll and am already running for cover, through the scrub, as soon as I have my legs back underneath me.

I'm waiting for Licata to take his next shot when I hear Jimmy.

"Licata!" he yells as he comes out of the trees to my left, from the water side of the dunes.

Licata turns and fires at Jimmy now, sending Jimmy diving for cover.

Licata's the one caught in a crossfire now and he has to make a decision.

Jimmy or me.

He turns back to me.

Too late.

I've stopped running, squared up, and raised my Glock.

Just me and the target now.

Like all those nights on the trail.

Stop, aim, shoot.

I hit Licata high up on his chest and spin him halfway around. He turns back to face me once more and raises his gun for the last time. I hit him again in the chest and he goes down and stays down as Jimmy comes running out of the woods.

Jimmy takes off his own windbreaker as he kneels down next to Licata and tries to stop the bleeding. When I get there and see how much blood there is, I know Jimmy's too late to contain the wound, or the blood. He has to know, too.

So does Anthony Licata.

But he's still looking to deal, all the way to the end.

"Help…" he croaks.

A bubble of blood comes out of his mouth.

"Trying here," Jimmy says grimly, pressing down harder with his windbreaker, now soaked in blood.

"I… can help you…"

"How?" Jimmy asks.

"Proof…"

"What kind of proof, Licata?" I can hear the urgency in Jimmy's voice, both of us knowing Licata is running out of time.

"Insurance… case he ever tried to screw me…"

Licata's eyes are rolling back.

Jimmy leans down closer to him and speaks so softly I can barely make out what he's saying under the wind roaring louder and harder than ever through the Walking Dunes.

"Proof on who?" Jimmy says.

I hear Licata say "The…" His voice trails off. Everything nearly gone now, like his life is spilling out into the dunes along with all the blood.

Then all I can hear Licata saying back to Jimmy is this:

"Who."

Jimmy leans down close to Licata now and I can see Licata trying to say something more, but nothing comes out, and then his head falls back and his eyes close and he's still.

"Shit," Jimmy says.

He sits down next to Licata, still holding his gun. I step away and make the call to 911 on my phone. Maybe ten minutes later, we hear the first sirens in the distance.

We're still sitting there when we hear Licata's phone.

While Jimmy goes into the side pocket of Licata's down vest for the phone, I walk back to where the woman, Mei, was shot.

But she's disappeared.