Pandora (The Organization Book 1) by Joshua Grant

Author:Joshua Grant [Grant, Joshua]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2016-10-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Deck 6, The Midsummer Night’s Dream

They found Olga a short distance from the kitchen door. She was face down and motionless, the creature’s torn tentacle still coiled around her wrist despite being severed. Aubrey felt a surge of anger. She wished she could burn it all over again. They had let it smolder for a minute just to be sure it was really dead. It was just a stinking mess now in the middle of the kitchen, all resemblance to the human being it used to be washed away by purifying flame. Was this their fate? Were they all going to go out like that? And the one on the bridge, was that once human too, someone with a family, with kids, hell, with a face!?

Her anger was quickly replaced with sadness as she hastened to Olga’s side. Who, or what, could have been responsible for all this? The casual brutality of it—how could anyone be so cruel? She traced the red smear on the marble leading up to Olga’s motionless body.

“You okay?”

Aubrey jumped at Julian’s comforting hand on her shoulder. It was warm and good, as were his eyes.

She sighed. How was she supposed to answer that? Were any of them okay? Would they ever be again?

“It’s just, that kid has been here a whole week,” she cast a glance back at Gabe who Mac had taken to the side in an attempt to shield him from Olga’s body. “What things did he have to see? No kid should have to go through that.”

Julian nodded, his own eyes looking about as haunted as hers probably did, and she suddenly wanted to bury her head in his chest, to feel his arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her safe against the harsh cold of this world. She knew it was just stress, the same reason people hooked up at funerals, but with Julian it felt deeper. He actually seemed to really care. In any case, it was a nice fantasy. Would make for an awkward story for the grandkids though. Your grandfather and I fell for each other standing over the corpse of our friend.

Aubrey looked down at poor Olga. She knelt, dreading the next thirty seconds. Bracing herself, fighting back against the lump swelling in her throat, she grabbed Olga’s still warm shoulders and rolled—

--Olga’s body spasmed, a wet cough launching a spray of blood from her lips.

“She’s still alive!” Aubrey gasped.

Julian was down on a knee in an instant helping to hold her steady. “Easy Olga. Easy. You need to stay still,” he soothed though his voice was firm. Aubrey could detect the slight quaver in it. He could see just as clearly how bad it was. A ragged hole spurted blood from Olga’s side, wetting the tile floor with more red. She was wheezing, choking, trying to form words.

“Don’t try to talk,” Aubrey instructed. Her hands were already over the wound applying pressure. Scalding hot blood shot between her fingers. “We’ve gotta staunch the bleeding. I need a rag or table cloth.

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