The Fury(65)

Jason punched me again. This time, the blow caught the side of my head, knocking me off-balance. I stumbled, falling onto my hands and knees. Blood spurted from my nose onto the sandy stone floor.

I gasped, trying to catch my breath. I had been thrown off-balance psychologically, as well as physically. I needed to adjust to this situation’s rapidly getting out of control. I could hear them talking above my head—and what I heard was unsettling, to say the least. They sounded weirdly excited, almost high.

“Well,” said Jason. “Are we doing this? Yes or no?”

“We have no choice,” said Kate. “He killed her. It’s justice.”

“And what do we tell the police?”

“The truth—Elliot shot Lana … then he shot himself.”

They had temporarily lost their minds—and I didn’t believe for one second that they would actually go through with it. But despite reassuring myself, I was starting to feel scared. I had to get out of this.

I pulled myself to my feet. I forced a smile, despite my aching jaw.

“Bravo. Quite a performance, guys. You almost got me.… But this charade has gone on too long. Let me give you a tip. You mustn’t let the final act drag on forever—you lose your audience.”

With that, I turned to go—

And I heard a dull thud. Then felt a crippling, spreading pain in my lower back. Nikos had hit me from behind with the handle of the gun. I sank to my knees with a groan.

“Hold him,” said Jason. “Don’t let him go.”

Nikos grabbed my shoulders, holding me down, on my knees. I struggled to free myself.

“Get the fuck off me! This is insane! I’ve done nothing wrong—”

They surrounded me. I could hear them above my head, talking in whispers.

“Justice?” said Jason.

“Justice,” repeated Kate.

Starting to panic, I squirmed, fighting to turn my head to Agathi. I appealed to her. “Why are you doing this? You proved your point, okay? I’m sorry—now stop!”

But Agathi wouldn’t look at me. “Justice.” She translated the word into Greek for Nikos: “Dikaiosyni.”

“Dikaiosyni.” Nikos nodded. “Justice.”

Jason nodded at the gun in Kate’s hands. “He needs to be holding the gun. Give it to me.”

“Here.” Kate handed it to him. “Take it.”

“Let me go! Lana is alive—”

I fought to get away, but Nikos held me there like a vise. I felt panic rising up inside me.

Jason pressed the gun into my hand, keeping his hand over mine. He raised the gun to the side of my head. I could feel it digging deep into my temple.

“Pull the trigger, Elliot,” he said. “This is your punishment. Pull the trigger.”

I was fighting tears. “No, no—I didn’t do anything wrong. Please—”

“Shh.” Jason was being weirdly gentle now, even tender. “Stop pretending now,” he whispered in my ear. “Do it. Pull the trigger.”

“No—no—”

“Pull the trigger, Elliot.”

“No.” I was sobbing now. “Please … stop—”

“Then I’ll do it.”

“No,” said Kate. “I will.”

Suddenly, I found myself staring into Kate’s eyes. They were huge, wild, terrifying.

“This is for Lana,” she hissed.

“No, no—”

And then, in absolute terror, I started to scream.

I was screaming for Lana, of course. I had no idea if she was out of earshot, but she had to hear me. She had to save me.

“LANA! LANA!”

I felt Kate’s fingers on the gun, slipping over mine—forcing my finger onto the trigger. I realized, with absolute certainty, that the sensation of Kate’s fingers on mine, the gun against my head, the wind against my face … were the last things I’d ever feel.

“LAAANA—”

Kate pushed my finger down on the trigger.

“LAN—”

My scream was cut short. I heard a click—and an enormous bang. Everything went dark.

And my world disappeared.





ACT V


I know this is wrong. But stronger than my conscience is my fury.

—EURIPIDES, Medea





1





Lana woke up in the dark.

She wasn’t sure where she was—or what the time was. She felt groggy and confused.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom, and she made out the shape of a large window, with its curtains drawn. Tinges of light were appearing around the edges, creeping in from outside.

It’s morning, she thought. And I’m on Elliot’s couch.

As she took in the debris surrounding her, from the carnage last night—the coffee table, strewn with empty bottles of wine, bottles of vodka, various glasses, loose marijuana buds, ashtrays overflowing with joints and cigarette ends—her memory returned. She had come over here late last night. The reason for her visit also came back to her—the discovery of Kate and Jason’s affair—and she was flooded with pain.

Lana lay still for a moment. She felt so sad, weary, utterly broken. It took an effort to summon the strength to stand up. She managed to lean on the arm of the couch and pulled herself up. She got to her feet. Slightly unsteadily, she started gathering her things.