Mercy (The Last Army Book 1) by Freeter John

Author:Freeter, John [Freeter, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-02-23T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

“I, I, I… I didn’t… he was going to… oh God. I just…”

I’d killed Tommy.

The boys stared at me in silence, their bloodied hands still on Tommy’s livid corpse, their clothes all covered in bright-red splatters. The sadness in their tearful eyes turned into reproach—into anger—as their brows hardened. They might have bullied and teased him, but clearly he was still their friend… and Danny’s brother. Mark rose to his feet.

I trained my gun on him, taking a single step back.

“Wait, wait!” he shouted, crouching back down and raising his palms toward me. “Calm down. We know it wasn’t your fault.”

“Not her fault? She fucking shot him!” Danny screamed, his voice phlegmy.

Vincent bit his lip, looking at Tommy’s vacant face. His hand inched down to his rifle.

“Stop! Please, just… just… stay still! Oh God…” I jerked my gun from one guy to the next, making sure none of them reached for their guns. The soles of my boots ground against the concrete as I backed away. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t… he was going to…” I felt like each word got stuck in my throat, suffocating me. I swallowed the knot building up in my throat and blinked away the tears clouding my sight.

Mark slowly kicked his bloodied handgun away and grabbed his buddies’ hands.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Rebecca. Okay? Just put down your gun, and we’ll talk this through, okay?” Mark tried to smile, but his jaw trembled slightly. “No one’s going to hurt you. I promise.”

Mark’s voice wavered with desperation, just as it had when he'd promised Tommy everything would be okay. Now, Tommy’s blood trickled down his bare chest.

“You… you first,” I said, staring at Danny’s shotgun. My pistol went from Vincent to Mark to Danny and back again. I kept retreating, one inch at a time.

“Yeah, okay… but don’t shoot,” Mark said and whispered to his buddies. Vincent placed his rifle on the ground and shoved it away. Danny shook his head, teeth gritted. Only a few feet stood between us—I could see his nostrils flaring up with every breath—and he had a shotgun hanging from his shoulder. At that range, he wouldn’t even have to aim.

I peeled my left hand off my gun and lowered it against my thigh, keeping the iron sights lined up at Danny. Mark grasped the leather sling attached to Danny’s shotgun and spoke right into his ear. A few endless seconds passed, and Mark finally slid the shotgun off Danny’s shoulder, onto the bloodied ground, and kicked it away. Danny kept his eyes fixed on me, scowling. Mark took a deep breath.

“Okay,” Danny said. “Now you—”

I ran. I just turned back and ran away as fast as I could. I had no idea where I was going; I just wanted to get away from them, away from Tommy’s lifeless body, away from everything.

“Rebecca!” Mark shouted, but I didn’t look back. I ducked low as I ran, zigzagging between the cars left on the road, my hand still clutching the gun.

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