I could see that Tom wanted to be a hero. His nostrils were flaring wider than a bull’s and his eyes had that stubborn light in them that I knew boded ill. Very, very ill.

Meanwhile Mendez apparently wanted to play the part of hero, too. But there wasn’t enough room on this stage. I needed to act, and fast. This was getting out of control too quickly.

The two of them faced each other with squared shoulders, unblinking, unmoving. Jodi and I stood on the periphery. I longed to take off the stupid ski mask so that I could actually see what was going on and gain better perspective of this horrific tableau.

“Well, are you going to give it to them or not?” Jodi wailed suddenly, wringing her hands.

Tom chose that moment to act. He moved forward, arms outstretched. In a fit of insanity I wondered if he was going to embrace Mendez rather than fight him.

Meanwhile, Mendez thrust forward, wielding his knife with a loud yell. The knife was aimed at Tom’s stomach.

“Mendez, DON ’T!” I screamed, pulling off the mask.