A shot in the dark

A sharp pop echoed through the two-story building. Tanya’s eyes shot open. A gun going off in West Philadelphia didn’t usually wake her, but this one sounded like it went off right above her head.

She pulled her knees to her chest. The bed springs creaked. Gabe’s body stiffened. A light upstairs flicked on, spotlighting the strip of green between the graffiti-covered brick in the back. She listened for footsteps. Silence pressed in.

“Is it them?” Gabe whispered.

Tanya cursed. A thud shook the floor above. A man wailed.

Her thin brown hair tumbled down her shoulder as she sat up in bed. Her feet dangled off the edge of the Harvard frame. She leaned forward, pulled open the drawer in her bedside table, and felt around for the small pocket knife she kept inside. Once her hand found it, she let it slide into her palm and dropped it into her pants pocket.

“It’s them, it’s them. I knew it. Merda.” He ripped shirts from the closet and yanked several on over his head, as if stacking fabric could halt a bullet.

Tanya pressed a finger to her lips, signaling Gabe to be quiet. She crept to the back window. The knotted vinyl blinds bent as she lifted the shade. Snow shrouded the quiet street. A dog howled in the distance.

She hissed. “It’s your stupid fault for ripping them off in the first place.” Her pulse quickened.

A crumbled box caved in on itself, squished in the corner. A knot formed in her gut. Tanya clutched the chain around her neck. The pendant from Larry burned against her skin. With a swift yank, the clasp in back snapped. She dropped it in the box. It clanked against the tinted green wine bottle. Château Mouton Rothschild, 1960. The only thing over a hundred dollars in their apartment. The wine itself only cost her thirty, but the labor of copying the label perfectly from a Polaroid picture was well matched to the seven hundred they planned to charge for it. It was her apology to Gabe.

But right now, she worried his mistake would cost them their lives.

“I didn’t do anything.” Gabe grabbed her arm.

“Basta.” She pulled her arm away from Gabe. Her toes curled under the loose hem of her sweatpants as she stepped forward. The cold, uneven floor scraped at the soles of her feet as she walked toward the front door. Hives crept up her neck like spiders. She scratched at her skin.

Shadows followed her into the living room. They crouched as she tiptoed to the door. Ghost hands reached out with hers as she peeled the door from its frame. A black line split in two by hallway light stretched across the floor. She peered out. The lock chain, barely held by crooked screws, pressed her cheek. Silence filled the foyer. The hall bulb flickered. Frost blurred the building’s glass door. Tanya edged her face further through the crack. Upstairs, she heard running water.

Gabe slammed a duffel on the bed, grabbing clothes. Shirts and pants spilled as he wrestled the zipper.

Tanya pleaded with her furrowed brow for him to quiet down. “What are you doing?”

He grabbed his coat. “We can go out the back.” Hangers clattered to the floor like a crumbled metal frame.

The water stopped.

Her inner thoughts tumbled out of her mouth: “And go where?”

The air already burned the back of her throat with each breath. Their mattress sagged in the middle, the springs already compacted and poking through. Black stains darkened the ceiling above them, and a permanent drip kept time in the kitchen. But they wouldn’t freeze to death in here. Tanya thought of Larry’s lush silk sheets. Her memory was shadowed the disappointment in his stare before walking out of that room with all her savings. Their life savings.

Tanya whispered. “What about Henry?”

Gabe clawed at the collar of her shirt. “Screw Henry.”

The metal chain jiggled against the frame. Tanya slipped through the door before Gabe could grab her hand. “He’s got all our cash,” said Tanya. Her pace quickened towards the front door. Her eyes played tricks on her. Every shadow transformed into a lurking predator. In her peripheral vision, a barrel pointed to her head. She turned. It transformed back into a coat rack. Tanya whimpered. She clutched her shirt. Survival felt impossible. The anticipation alone would kill them.

A car door slammed outside. Gabe hit the floor. “We’ll get it later.” He crawled toward the back door.

Streetlamps hazed an empty street. Her Ford Bronco, dusted in snow, sat in the first spot. Sugar-coated cars lined both sides. A man walked the empty sidewalk. White still covered the street, unmarked by tires. The deadbolt stayed locked from inside. Chipped wood and scuff marks trailed up dry stairs.

She breathed. “It can’t be them.”

The man after them didn’t care about footprints. Neither did the police in this part of the city.

Tanya tiptoed up the stairs. Metal slammed to the floor above her. A baby wailed.

Tanya covered her ears. Her heart pounded. Red eyelids shielded her view. Silence returned. Her hands shook. She pulled herself up by the banister. Light from the apartment split as feet passed.

Slowly, she ascended. A voice muttered. Cries echoed from the infant.

She pressed her back to the wall. Everything keeping the lights on hid beneath a loose floorboard in that upstairs apartment. Three hundred dollars. Enough for two bus tickets somewhere and a bed. If they ran now without it, they’d be on the streets by tomorrow night. Subway grate welts, from not coming home last week, scabbed the backs of her arms. She couldn’t after Gabe found out.

Gabe bounded up the stairs after her.

Tanya glared at him.

He froze on the top step. “You said it wasn’t them?”

She lifted her palm to slow him down. Gabe stopped, and then he trailed behind her as she led the way to the apartment door. The floorboards creaked softly under their shifting weight and nerves.

Tanya let her knuckles rattle against the thin wood. “Henry?”

Gabe steadied his hand and brandished the butcher’s knife from their kitchen, holding it tightly, sweat darkening the circles under his armpits. Tanya checked her pocket knife, reassuring herself with its weight. She’d never used it on anyone, but now the spring snapped open the blade, and she readied it in her hand. She didn’t want to die from a mistake.

Tanya knocked again. “Everything okay?” Sweat stained her cotton top.

Feet shuffled toward them. The infant's cries softened.

The veins in Gabe’s forearms bulged. His knuckles whitened. Tanya counted down in her mind from ten. Her fingers curled around the handle of her pocket knife.

The knob turned.