Worth Dying For

have done that in the first place.’
    ‘We don’t have any tape, for either thing.’
    ‘Let’s look in the garage. If we find some tape, we’ll think about doing it.’
    They found some tape. They followed the flashlight beam through the hallway, through the kitchen, through the mud room, all the way to the garage, and right there on the workbench was a fat new roll of silver duct tape, still wrapped up, fresh from the store. They carried it back with them, not really sure if they were pleased or not. But they had promised themselves in a way, so they pulled off the plastic wrap and picked at the end of the tape and unwound a short length. They tried the flashlight against the shotgun barrel, working in the dim light of reflections off the walls. The flashlight fit pretty well, ahead of the forestock, and underslung because of the front sight above the muzzle, and jutting out a little because of its length. The plastic lens was about an inch in front of the gun. Satisfactory. But to get it secure they were going to have to wrap tape right over the thumb switch, which was a point of no return, of sorts. If they were going to do that, then they were going to have to act. No point in leaving the light burning and running the battery down all for nothing.
    One asked, ‘Well?’
    Three hours before daylight. Boredom, irritation, exasperation, humiliation.
    The other said, ‘Let’s do it.’
    He propped the gun across his knees and held the flashlight in place. The first guy juggled the roll of tape, making sticky tearing noises, winding it around and around, like he was binding broken ribs with a bandage, until the whole assembly was fat and mummified. He ducked his head and bit off a nine-inch tail and pressed it down securely, and then he squeezed everything hard between his palms, and smoothed the edges of the tape with his fingers. The other guy lifted the gun off his knees and swung it left and right and up and down. The flashlight stayed solidly in place, its beam moving faithfully with the muzzle.
    ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Cool. We’re good to go. The light is like a laser sight. Can’t miss.’
    The first guy said, ‘Remember, aim low. If you see him, jerk the barrel down and fire at his feet.’
    ‘If he doesn’t surrender first.’
    ‘Exactly. First choice is to immobilize him. But if he moves, shoot him.’
    ‘Where will he be?’
    ‘Could be anywhere. Probably out of sight at the bottom of the stairs. Or hiding behind the water heater. It’s big enough.’
    They followed the light out to the hallway and stopped near the basement door. The guy with the gun said, ‘You open it and step back and then get behind me. I’ll go down slowly and I’ll move the light around as much as I can. Tell me if you see him. We need to talk each other through this.’
    ‘OK,’ the first guy said. He put his hand on the knob. ‘We sure about this?’
    ‘I’m ready.’
    ‘OK, on three. Your count.’
    The guy with the gun said, ‘One.’
    Then, ‘Two.’
    The first guy said, ‘Wait. He could be right behind the door.’
    ‘At the top of the stairs?’
    ‘Just waiting to jump out at us before we’re ready.’
    ‘You think? That would mean he’s been waiting there a whole hour.’
    ‘Sometimes they wait all day.’
    ‘Snipers do. This guy wasn’t a sniper.’
    ‘But it’s possible.’
    ‘He’s probably behind the water heater.’
    ‘But he might not be.’
    ‘I could fire through the door.’
    ‘If he isn’t there, that would alert him.’
    ‘He’ll be alerted anyway, as soon as he sees the flashlight beam coming down.’
    ‘The door has a steel core. You heard what Seth said.’
    The guy with the gun asked, ‘So what do we do?’
    The first guy said, ‘We could wait for daylight.’
    Boredom, irritation, exasperation, humiliation.
    The guy with the gun said, ‘No.’
    ‘OK, so I’ll open up real fast, and you fire one round immediately, right where his feet are. Or where they would be. Just in case. Don’t wait and see. Just pull the trigger, whatever, right away.’
    ‘OK. But then we’ll have to go down real fast.’
    ‘We will. He’ll be in shock. I bet that gun is pretty loud. Ready?’
    ‘I’m ready.’ The guy with the gun estimated the arc of the swinging door and shuffled a foot closer and braced himself, the stock to his shoulder, one eye closed, his finger tight on the trigger.
    The first guy said, ‘Aim low.’
    The oval of light settled on the bottom quarter of