Chapter 56: Erik Tarasovich III
Levi stood there, cold sweat dripping under his freshly washed suit. His hazel eyes rest on the five pieces of Smith & Wesson's laid one after the other on top of a silver examination tray.
Levi scanned his surroundings subtly, behind him stood a tall bulky man with a shaved head, wearing a gray vest under a black leather jacket and blue jeans.
On the sideline sat backward in an old dusty wooden chair was Erik, clad in a black-blue shirt, jacket, black jeans, and a pair of Loafers. He was sucking life to the cigarette between his lips while leaning his chest against the backrest comfortably.
Standing beside him was another bloke, shorter, with thinning brown hair. His face reminded Levi of a pudgy bulldog but with a mole under his chin.
Two others stood in both exits of the room, and the last one stood a few feet at Sam's left side. A gun aimed at her head.
Then his eye shifts to the redhead sitting on the wooden chair a few meters in front of him, and the two lock eyes.
Levi realized he really should've 'called a friend'. Shouldn't have dealt with this problem on his own. He could be so reckless and stupid at times, even he is astonished by it.
He honestly doesn't know if he feels better with her just simply sitting there. Not a shed of tears, no sign of fear or struggle. She looked too relaxed in that situation, in his opinion.
And his brain couldn't help but fathom whether she had been in a situation of the same nature. Her high tolerance to such a dangerous circumstance, to him, were both concerning, unnerving, and impressive.
Does her calmness make him feel worse?
Did she accept her fate already? Welcomed death in open arms?
Did she also know the chances of them dying then and there?
How the Math is saying they won't get to see another day.
Of course, she has, they think alike, after all, Levi thought.
'Gobshite!' Levi thought. He hadn't left a Will stating which suit they should have him wear in his casket.
What if they made him wear some cheap subpar suit bought online with the wrong measurements?
Did they even know all his suits are custom made?!
What if they don't match the tie tone with the suit jacket's color?
'UGH! THE HORROR!'
In Levi's head, he recalculated all possible strategies, all of them leading to both of them dead. He scratched the thought, looking back to the firearms presented to him.
'Shoot Sam and take the chance?
Or try and fail, and die with her tonight?' he pondered.
He didn't want to die, especially not with that suit on. The stain would be a nightmare to remove. But then again, he'd be too dead to care, wouldn't he?
Levi turned to his left when he heard Erik's chair creek, the Russian approached him with a confident swagger in his every step. He was loving every second of it, Levi could tell.
The blond psychologist watched him carefully, "I'll give you a deal." Erik starts, taking the cigarette from his mouth and exhaling out the smoke. He repositions the cigarette back to his mouth and looks down at the set of revolvers.
He randomly grabs the middle gun off the tray, turning to Levi and taking in a deep breath of his cigarette and blowing it to the psychologist's face. Levi turns his head away, squinting his eyes for a moment.
Erik chuckles, "How rude of me, my apologies." he says half-heartedly. Then placing the cigarette between his mouth.
"I can take this, " he says holding the middle gun, "then you'll have fewer options to choose from." Then he starts chuckling, amused with his little devious idea.
"But then the question remains, did I increase your chances of getting it right, or did I completely eliminate it?" he says, breaking into a crooked smile with his cigarette between his lips.
Erik and Levi looked at each other, the Russian gave the Irishman an expectant look. The blond psychologist assessing the man.
Right at that moment, he couldn't read him, 'this isn't the time to second guess!' Levi mentally berated himself.
Levi cracked a smile, turned to Sam and she remained unfazed on her spot as she watched the two's exchange. Then he turns back to Erik, "I'd have to decline, Mr. Tarasovich. But thank you for the offer!" he says in a mock formal tone, breaking into his signature smug grin.
Erik shrugs unaffected, he was just trying to have some fun. And starts to walk back to his chair when he stops mid-step and turns to the redhead, a wicked idea comes to mind.
"How about this instead?" he offers. Levi turns to him, and he sees the man walking towards Sam. Levi fist his hand, gritted his teeth wondering what the man was plotting.
Did he have enough of his little fun? Will he finish them off now? That doesn't make sense, Levi thought. He was enjoying himself too much to stop so suddenly.
"Tabloids have dubbed you two as 'Samson' did you know that? Sam+ Jackson," Erik says, cackling after. "If you get this wrong I'll enjoy reading the headline. The genius power couple found dead in some ditch." Erik says.
He leans over the redhead, tilting her chin so she would look up at him. He smiles down at her, and Sam glares.
"Gingers really are feisty! A true woman kissed by fire! I bet she's fun under the sheets too! Isn't she, Mr. Jackson?!" he comments, earning silence from the psychologist.
"There really is no luck, as the luck of an Irish!" Erik says, remembering the saying.
He turns to Sam, "Anyhow, they say you're a genius, Dr. Gray?" he whispers to her, then turns to face Levi.
"So I'll give you two a chance. Do your magic, whatever your genius mind can work out." Erik says, carefully peeling off the edge of the tape over Sam's mouth.
"Hold on, Ginger," he tells her then pulls the tape away slowly. He scans her face, whilst fixing her hair away from her eyes and takes a good look for her. She really was beautiful, the kind of woman that wouldn't want a man like him.
He turns to look at Levi, "May I suggest you point the gun away from her face. It would be a shame if they put her on a closed casket," he says, then releases Sam. Sam rolls her eyes, shooting daggers at the back of the man's head as he starts to walk away.
Erik returns to his original spot on the chair. "Two minds are better than one. I'm offering you Dr. Gray's help, on which gun you'll shoot her with. But it's in your decision entirely whether or not to take her advice," he says, sitting backward on the chair. He leans forward against the backrest, holding his cigarette and taking a long final suck on the cigarette between his mouth. He then flicks it to the ground and steps on it.
Erik beckoned them to go ahead, "You have 60seconds to choose, aim, and shoot Mr. Jackson." he tells him.
"Vik, if he fails, kill Dr. Gray, watch the face though," he says, then turns to the man behind Levi. "Same goes for you, Nikolai. But aim for the head." Erik tells his two men. Vik's gun pointed at Sam, Nikolai at Levi.
Erik looks at his watch, Levi tensed the man was serious.
"60, 59, 58, 57, 56..." he starts counting down.
"Levi," Sam says, getting his attention. She nods over the set of firearms. "Second gun from your right. Do it now," she tells him with conviction.
Levi freezes, his hand hovering over the gun, he takes it in his hand, cool and heavy against his palm.
He aims at her, he could hear his own heartbeat pounding against his ears, his breath short and fast. And he could feel his throat tighten. Cold sweat dripping down underneath his shirt.
His hand trembles, "...30, 29, 28, 27..." Erik continues, snapping his finger for Dimitri standing beside him to continue the count.
He wouldn't want to miss the action.
"26, 25, 24, 23.." Dimitri continues,
"What are you waiting for?" Sam says, seeing the uncertainty in Levi's eyes. He was wondering whether or not it was the empty gun, he had estimated the weight in his hand, it is lighter compared to a gun he'd imagine having all cylinders filled with bullets. However, there could be a chance that he was holding the gun with just one or two bullets in it.
If that was the case, there is still a 20-40% chance that he will shoot her dead then and there.
Will he take that chance?
"Levi, pull the---" Sam starts.
"19, 18, 17.."
Levi slams the gun back on the tray, breathing hard, making a loud clanking noise. Sweat dripping down his neck.
"I CAN'T!" he shouts.
Levi turns to Erik, "I'll give you the money, twice, thrice whatever the amount. TELL ME!" he spats with conviction.
"That's too late, for now, Mr. Jackson," Erik states.
"..14, 13, 12..."
Recognizing the certainty in Erik's eyes sinks into him, that either way they were dead. He hears the sound of the gun being cocked behind his head.
He turns to face Sam, his expression she recognized as defeat,
"I can't," he tells her.
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