I hit that tire too.
I was hoping to keep helping, shooting whichever of the men I could get from this advantageous position. But it all catches up to me in an instant. The past few minutes, the day, the week, the months since Micah dropped into my life, the three and a half years since Impact.
All of it hits me at once. And my knees buckle.
Micah straightens up and turns around just in time to keep me from falling. He hands Burgundy the rifle and pulls me into his arms.
And it’s okay. All of it is really okay. I might be injured, bloodied, shaky, and on the edge of collapse. But it’s still okay.
Because I’ve got Micah.
And he’s got me.
29
Fortunately,our luck improves after that.
We can’t see details from up so high, but we get the general sense of how the fight plays out on the road. The groups in the front and rear advance toward the disabled trucks. The Holy Rollers shoot back, but they’re taken by surprise and outnumbered.
Logan overestimated this morning. The whole thing is over in about six minutes.
As soon as the shooting stops, we head back down the hill with me leaning heavily on Micah and Burgundy carrying the rifle.
We’re all concentrating on our footing to avert another disaster, but at one point I look up at Micah and ask, “Can you hear anything out of your right ear?”
“A little,” he admits. “It’s mostly a lot of ringing. But it’ll get better. I’m not worried.”
“Okay. But next time we’re bringing extra earplugs.”
Micah huffs with amusement, and Burgundy giggles. She’s got Micah’s blithe spirit. It’s not that they don’t take serious things seriously. It’s more that they never let the weight of the world drag them down.
When we reach the others on the road, they’ve got the survivors of the Holy Rollers corralled in a group near one of the pickups, which are completely shot up by bullets and crashed into the trees on the side of the road.
Jesse is still alive.
His is the first face I see.
I would have assumed I’d feel relieved or vindicated or satisfied or something. Jesse betrayed me in every possible way. And he did it not because he hated me or felt compelled to act against me but because he’s so incredibly weak.
Always led by the strongest voice around him.
But I don’t feel any of those things.
Mostly I just feel sick.
I’m exhausted and still in pain and weirdly nauseated as I limp closer.
Only six of the men are still on their feet. The others are dead or close to it.
“Kat, please,” Jesse says when he sees me.
I ignore him, looking toward Logan, who was talking with a couple of his soldiers. Now he straightens up. Takes a few steps toward me.
And that’s when I realize why there’s a weird hesitation in the air.
Logan was waiting for me.
“Good job with the shooting,” he tells me in the crisp, no-nonsense tone he always uses. “Are you seriously injured?”
