Luigi and Cody and the Killer were halfway up Mt
Macedon road. As they passed the phone
box where he had called Luigi from, Cody felt something inside him shrivel. He’d thought, then, that he’d escaped, that
he’d been given back his life. He
thought he’d had a new chance and new beginning. But it wasn’t going to be. He was going to die. Into his heart came a determination that he
would save Luigi. He didn’t know how,
but somehow he would. Perhaps he could
distract the killer so that Luigi could escape.
Now that he had given up hope, his mind began to work furiously. What if he turned and grabbed the killer’s
arm and shouted to Luigi to stop the car and run away? Would that work? With his eyelids lowered he considered the
killer on the seat beside him. The man
held his gun in his hand with the assurance of someone who knew what he was
about. The gun was pointing towards
Cody’s stomach, out of sight of passers-by.
So Cody considered, careful not to show his thoughts on his face. If he grabbed the gun and the killer fired,
could he turn it far enough away from himself to not die immediately so that
Luigi would have enough time to get away?
No. The time to act would come
when they got out of the car. The killer
would make Luigi get out first. Cody
would be next. But the killer would have
to get out of his side of the car. But
that wouldn’t work either. How could he grasp
the killer’s hand when he was on the other side of the car? He had to do it while the killer was still
in the car. Shout at Luigi to run and
grab the killer’s gun arm as Luigi ran away.
They were getting close. It would be soon. Cody closed his eyes and sent up a prayer to
a deity he only half believed in. It was
time for God, who had made him bisexual, and had given him so much pain, to
help him, to redress the balance. Please, he thought, I don’t care about me, but let Luigi escape.
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