WHILE THEY WERE TALKING, Tommy kept walking, slowly, until he had passed them. The men, unaware of his intention, continued talking to Floyd. Seeing that they were inattentive, he pulled out his pistol, aimed it in their direction and said:
— Hands up!
Hearing Tommy's warning, they threatened to react, but decided against it when they heard the click of the safety of his pistol, which was already resting on the back of one of their necks.
— Did you hear? Hands up! — Tommy shouted.
Floyd also pulled his and aimed at them. Gregory Evans soon took charge of taking their weapons and searching for ammunition. While searching them, he found, in addition to the weapons, what he was looking for: handcuffs.
This should help...
He handcuffed each of them, like prisoners, although that was not his intention.
"You scoundrels!" one of them shouted. "Look around us! Have you lost your minds?"
— Be quiet, — replied Floyd Kenagan. — You wouldn't understand...
He threatened to continue his demonstration, but Floyd rebuked him.
— Shut up! Or I'll have to do it myself!
Greg motioned for him to calm down.
—You won't understand our reasons, Gregory Evans said conciliatoryly, we can't take any chances.
After Floyd Kenagan called, Kenan appeared from the darkness. Surprised and astonished at seeing him, the three men immediately showed themselves to be dangerous. One of them, upon recognizing the President, became tense, breathing heavily and alternating his gaze between Kenan and the ground. It was impossible to know what he would do if he were without handcuffs, and worse, with weapons in hand.
Another fell to his knees, growling like a dog that senses danger and staring at Kenan without even blinking. The third showed some loss of balance, but remained conscious, complaining only of a headache.
Seeing the situation, Kenan said:
— I believe that from now on we will not be able to trust anyone... This confirms the theory that people are all under the effect of this attack.
—These men were certainly not on Fifth Avenue at the time of the incident.
—Neither was the engineer—said Gregory Evans.
—Is this a coordinated attack of greater scope? — Floyd asked himself, letting out a sigh that seemed more like a sigh of relief, after the terrible realization.
— Well, at least we have ammo now. — Greg said as he distributed the spoils.
Taking possession of the weapons from those security guards, Gregory Evans distributed the ammunition and gave one to Floyd and another to Kenan.
— I don't want this — Kenan said as he received the gun.
— I think you'd better accept, Mr. President... — Gregory Evans replied.
— I wouldn't make good use of it...
"Anyway," Floyd Kenagan interrupted, "take her, sir. We don't know what lies ahead."
Kenan decided to accept the weapon. Still reluctant, he put it away by attaching it to his belt.
—I never imagined myself shooting someone... —Kenan said. —I'm a man of words, not violence...
—Those are two things that never come back, — said Gregory Evans, arranging weapons and ammunition in his dirty clothes.
—What do you mean? — Kenan asked.
— Two things never come back, Mr. President: the bullets from your gun and the words from your mouth.
—Don't compare one thing with another, Mr. Evans, Kenan replied angrily.
— The bullets in Vietnam were only fired after the words of their ruling predecessors. In your case, sir, I believe that words are worth much more than bullets, as they are capable of stopping them.
Kenan fell silent at Gregory Evans' words, he knew the detective spoke from war experience.
— Things never work out the way we think, Mr. President. I also never imagined myself shooting someone, until "the someone" shot me and our platoon, few of us survived.
— It amazes me how you manage to deal with such a complex and terrifying issue as taking someone's life, with such simplicity... — Kenan said, looking at him.
— It's like boiling down an impossible equation to a simple mathematical operation, sir.
— This is not something as trivial as a simple bar fight, where both can leave and reflect on their mistakes when they are sober. This is about death... It is something irreversible.
Even though he was suffering from severe fatigue, Tommy kept his sarcastic smile on his face as they walked and talked. Floyd just watched and Katherine didn't have the courage to interfere in such a difficult matter with someone so important.
Tommy replied to the President:
— I guess guilt doesn't travel very far, does it?
— How?
— It scares you to shoot someone, even when you make decisions every day that could kill in so many different places...
Kenan snorted at the confident statement of that nosy boy. He replied:
— These are necessary decisions... You wouldn't question making them if you were in my place.
— I think that this really is the crux of the matter. As simple as my relationship with death. Taking someone's life doesn't give me any pleasure, but I certainly prefer to stay alive.
Floyd Kenagan studied the young man during the curious dialogue he was having with him. He analyzed his proficiency in handling weapons and how, even at a young age, he had already formed such a philosophy for such complex issues. He ventured:
— By your logic, I believe you've been through enough situations to have developed a thought like that...
A few steps later, Greg replied:
— Now is not the time to talk about the past... let's focus on the future.
— I'm not very good at dying, Mr. Kenagan...
TOMMY TURNED TO Katherine and offered her the spare gun, holding it by the barrel and turning the butt toward her.
— Honey, no! I'm not going to take this...! — she said scared, shaking her head.
— Please take it, we are in no condition to be defenseless.
— But I don't know...
— I'll teach you. Just release the safety here and shoot by pulling this trigger. — he said, showing her how to do it. — Use both hands and stretch your arms out as if you were going to drive, so that the jolt of the shot doesn't pull the gun back and hit you.
Katherine stuttered a lot, was nervous and scared. Someone who was used to dealing with books, having to deal with exactly what her books most sought to combat.
— I won't be able to use this, I'm not that kind of person... — she replied insistently.
— Look, just take it with you. If you can't, don't use it, but if there are no options, you'll have it with you. — he said, looking at her calmly.
Cornered by her husband's justification, Katherine grabbed the pistol, looked at the President who agreed with her husband.
"It's better to be prepared and not use it, Mrs. Leone," Greg said with a smile, "than to need it and not have it to use."
She agreed:
"What are we waiting for?" Floyd Kenagan said in his gruff manner. "These tunnels won't get us anywhere if we don't walk." He turned to the three handcuffed guards and said, "We'll take you to the station and leave you there, safely. Don't you dare do anything or you'll regret it…"
Taking the handcuffed men in front of them, the group continued, walking through the tunnels. In the middle were Floyd Kenagan and Kenan, followed by Gregory Evans, Tommy and, lastly, Katherine who followed them.
All they wanted was to get out of that hell.