She gives a sniff and shakes her head in confusion. I’m brushing her cheeks, drying her tears, raking my fingers through her hair.

“I am sorry Carm. I just wanted you guys to be free”.

“We are”, I reply.

“No, we are not. Not yet”, Dante says calmly behind our shoulders.

We both turn to him. His eyes are on Jack Sanders and he doesn’t bother to look at us.

“We have a problem”, he states.

I look at the old man. He has untied the belt of his nightgown and his whole chest is covered with wires and cylinders and a there is a small screen flashing in the middle of his chest. Red numbers running away on a black background.

Sanders’ face looks relaxed in an insanely brutal way.

“Mr. Bizzarri is right”, he says lifting his hand and showing us a little remote control, “You’re not free. This is plan number two. This little waistcoat I’m wearing, well… it’s TNT. Chemical name trinitrotulene”.

“I’ll make your head explode before you can push that button”, Dante warns him loading the gun. His arms are still hanging to his sides.

Jack Sanders smiles that sweet smile I’ve learned to know even too well.

“I don’t think so, Lieutenant. I’m the living bomb, but there are other two bombs in this house. I will never tell you where they are. You can kill me, you can make a hole in my forehead, do what you want, but you’ll never get out of here. The other two bombs are timed. They’ll explode with or without my help. Or Justine’s”.

He nods in her direction and she smiles at us. She’s holding a remote, too. Two remotes for the same bomb. There is no way out.

“There is no way out”, I moan to nobody in particular, feeling my defenses falling down unexpectedly, painfully. Feeling that pale light of hope slipping away from me.

Dante’s forehead is sweating again and his eyes are black-ringed. He doesn’t look too good and I wonder why. He clenches his jaw and I am sure he’s thinking about what to do. He’s thinking about his next move, sure that this situation is much worse than the one we’ve been just gone through.

“Why are you doing this?”, Shane whispers to Sanders.

The old man just shrugs.

“Because I’ve nothing left to lose. I am dying, McCutcheon. I have a brain tumor. But I am not out of my mind as you all think. I am perfectly aware of what I am doing”.

“Justine”, I exclaim turning to her, “Please Justine… Please, can’t you see? This is insane. Please, help us. Let us go. Drop that remote”.

Justine just smiles at me, so sweetly, so vacantly. And Jack Sanders smirks.

“Miss Morales, Justine won’t betray me. Those men there, they were paid for doing what they did. But Justine… oh, she’s a believer. She believes in the grandiosity of my plan”.

“Daa-haddy”, Johnny wheezes from his corner, and smiles at the darkness of the night outside the window.

Three hostages, the three of us, the three of them left, three bombs.

The grandfather clock behind Jack Sanders strikes three times.

”I know what’s right or wrong
And my belief is stronger
Than your advice
People, they go to war
Because religion gives them
Reason to fight
Sacrifice, die for pride
A group that caters
No one’s fees
Or synthetic deities
Is where I belong
My stand is the human race
Without a label or a face”*

***

SOUNDTRACK:

* “Heresy” (Pantera)