Free Mirrors by Ted Dekker Page B

was at his face, feeling the flow of blood.
    Only then did it occur to Austin that he actually had a weapon in his hands. At his back.
    The wheelchair.
    It was metal. It was heavy. It was already swinging around behind him, strapped to his arms.
    Austin threw all of his weight into his turn and spun through and around.
    The wheelchair connected with a jarring thud, jerking Austin to an abrupt halt. He couldn’t see what impact the contact had made behind him, and he had no desire to twist and look. He only wanted to get away.
    But when he tried to run, he found that the wheelchair was snagged.
    He twisted viciously, pulled it free, and staggered forward. Only when he’d taken three full strides did he glance over his shoulder and see the damage he’d caused.
    Fisher was on his knees, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Blood ran from a gaping hole near his right temple. He didn’t seem capable of moving.
    Austin caught his breath and spun back to face the man, stunned. For a moment they remained fixed, staring at each other. Something about the man’s eyes sent a chill down Austin’s spine. Why wasn’t he pursuing?
    Fisher’s body tilted forward and then fell face-first onto the hard floor with a sickening thump. Blood seeped from the wound in his temple and began to pool around his head.
    Unconscious?
    Austin twisted his head around and looked at the wheelchair strapped to his arms. At the right wheel, the protruding chrome brake-lever was slick with blood.
    His heart plowed through three heavy beats.
    And then he knew. He knew as much as he’d ever known anything in all of his life.
    Heaving with exertion and panic, Austin slowly faced the director of admission’s prone, unmoving form on the floor.
    He had killed Fisher.

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