Hugo shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Stay here—help is on the way.” The sound of sirens drawing closer confirmed his words, and he nodded his head in their direction.
The policeman shot his hand out and took a surprisingly powerful grip on Hugo’s arm.
“But who are you? Why are you here?”
Hugo shrugged and pointed to a row of broken windows that lined the building above them. “My brother works in there.”
“But you can’t go in. You can’t. You have to wait for help. There may be more in there—”
Hugo shook his head. “No, they’re gone. Stay here and wait for reinforcements. I’m going in.”
The officer continued to protest, but Hugo ignored him. He ran toward the broken door and disappeared up the stairs.
*
Hugo rushed up the staircase and almost stumbled over the dead body lying inside the doorway at the top. He stopped short, surveying his surroundings. It looked like a pack of rabid hyenas had torn through the room, and the smell of gunpowder, blood, and death made his stomach turn. Two women whimpered somewhere, but Hugo couldn’t see them. He stepped over the dead man and nearly slipped in a pool of blood that was steadily growing in diameter.
“Felix! Do you hear me, Felix?”
No answer. There was a movement to his right, and he shifted his gaze in its direction. In an office across the hall, a bloody arm extended from below a desk.
A woman whimpered, “Please help me.”
Hugo rushed over to the woman and pulled away the debris that had fallen against her desk. It had served to hide her during the attack but had also trapped her in a dark, grim sort of cell. After Hugo had freed her from the rubble, he righted an overturned desk chair for her to sit in. Her face was distorted with terror, and her left arm hung limp; Hugo could see it was broken.
“Here, sit down and rest. Help is on the way.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled. She slid her hand over her dusty face and pushed the white hair out from in front of her eyes. A flash of recognition crossed Hugo’s face as he realized he had met this woman before. Yes, they had met a few weeks ago, when he’d come to pick up his brother.
“Jenny? It’s me, Hugo.”
Jenny blinked.
“Oh, sure, now I recognize you. You’re Felix’s brother, right?”
Hugo nodded and scanned the room. “Where is he? Have you seen him?”
She shook her head. “No. It went down so fast. They just came, just, all of a sudden . . . and started shooting. The ceiling fell right where I stood, and that’s when I hid.”
She fell silent and her face became even paler. She was going into shock, Hugo knew. He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her. She smiled weakly.
“Thanks.”
Hugo sensed movement behind him and spun around. A woman was rushing toward him at full speed. He raised his hands.
“Stop!”
Madeleine stopped abruptly. “Hugo? What are you doing here?”
“Felix called me. I couldn’t tell what was happening because of the gunshots. Where is he?” Hugo again looked around the desolate room. More bodies lay to the right of him, still and silent.
Madeleine pointed to a door further away and said in a small voice, “That’s Felix’s office.”
He was there in seven big steps. He heaved the door open and stepped into a large room dominated by a rich mahogany desk. Hugo froze. Two feet lay motionless next to the desk. Violent nausea began to push its way through Hugo’s stomach.
“No, no . . .” He rushed to his brother and dropped to his knees beside him. Felix wasn’t moving. There were at least two bullet wounds in his midsection, but the amount of blood wasn’t as great as Hugo thought it should have been. Maybe that meant . . .
Felix’s left foot twitched.
“Felix! Oh my God. Hold on, help is on the way!”
*
Hugo pulled off his shirt and pressed it gently against his brother’s stomach to stop the bleeding. He sat beside him, trying desperately to keep him alive until help arrived. They had always had a special connection, perhaps because they were twins, perhaps not. He didn’t think that was all there was to it. It was something else, a bond that could not be broken and which no one could come between.
During their upbringing, their mother had believed that the boys’ connection was almost supernatural. As they grew older, they had impressed plenty of girls with their uncanny ability to know what the other was thinking. More than once, a friend or teacher had told one brother to think of something, and the other would seem to have the thought in his mind—in most cases, it had been accurate.
The memories washed over him as he knelt beside Felix’s bloody body beside him. He cursed at the damn paramedics for taking so long. Finally, he heard voices outside the room and fast steps.
“Help! In here!” Hugo called out. Two police officers charged into the room with weapons drawn.
“Don’t move!”
Hugo ground his teeth.
“My brother’s shot—he works here—get help here, now!”
The cops looked at each other, processing the situation. Then a voice blared from the hallway. Another officer, the one Hugo had helped earlier, stepped into the room and between the other two cops.
“He’s one of the good guys,” he told them. “Get help for his brother—go!”
The two policemen spun and hurried out. The third cop reached Hugo and crouched down beside him.
“All right, help is on the way. Where’s he shot?”
“Stomach. Two rounds.”
“Make sure to keep pressure on it. I’ll make sure the paramedics come in here first.”
He disappeared, and Hugo was once more left alone with Felix, who was sliding in and out of consciousness. He felt utterly helpless. He pressed the wounds and stared at his brother’s pale face, willing him to keep breathing. Suddenly, Felix twitched and gave a brief cry.
Then there were voices outside the door again. A woman, dressed in green and yellow, entered the room, a large first aid bag slung over her back.
“George! In here!”
Another medic jogged in, and they both rushed over to Felix.
“Where’s he shot? Stomach?”
“Yeah. Two rounds. Both right through, two exit holes in the back. He’s barely conscious.” Hugo’s fingers trembled on Felix’s chest.
The medic made a quick assessment and said, “You’ve done well here. Scoot back—we’ll take over now. George, prepare the pressure dressings.”
Hugo did as he was told and pulled away to give them space to work. A third medic came in pushing a stretcher, and together, the three of them got Felix onto it. Felix moaned and opened his eyes. Ignoring the cracked, dried blood covering his fingers and palms, Hugo took his brother’s hand. His fingers felt like he’d just come in from the snow.
“Hey,” Hugo said gently. “I’m here.”
Felix’s voice came in a whisper. “I knew you’d come.”
“We need to get him to the ER,” said one of the medics. He’ll go in for surgery right away, and we‘ll just cross our fingers. Okay?”
Hugo nodded numbly and the small group disappeared, leaving him alone. Lost in thought, he stared at the window—just at it, not through it—as faint voices from the room next door trickled past his ears unheard. He wasn’t aware that he was sitting on the floor, shirtless, his own brother’s blood smeared across his torso, arms, and face. How long he sat there before he heard the rapping on the door he didn’t know.