That’s always been the point.
I have no idea how long it takes to take the first steps. I’m not aware of anyone or anything else as I set down one foot after another. I’m chilled but not trembling. My body and my mind are mostly numb.
The world has gone quiet, and the sky is gray. As gray as the flag flying down the road in the distance.
I’ve been shot before. Multiple times. I’ve got scars all over my body to prove it. But I’ve never been shot in the chest. Or the head.
I wonder how long it will hurt before I can’t feel anything at all.
I wish I could have gotten the chance to say goodbye to Teresa, Mason, and their children. I wish I could have thrown Bill his ball one last time. But they’ll know what I did and why I did it. They’ll know it came from love.
I wonder how long Ben will grieve me. If he’ll ever find another woman.
He was made to be a husband. He should have gotten the chance.
I wonder if my dad would have been proud of me.
Not long now.
Maybe they’ll shoot me before I even get close.
At least that way it will be over quick.
They don’t shootme as soon as I’m in range.
And they don’t shoot me when I get closer.
They haven’t shot me even when I can see the face clearly of the man holding the flag.
He looks to be around forty. Nondescript with a receding hairline. Just behind him are two guards training their weapons on me.
My hands are up. I’m making no sudden moves. The longer I can stretch out this diversion, the better.
When I’m standing in front of him, the man with the flag says, “We are taking you into custody for treason against the Central Cities.”
Ben, Vella, and Roderick were right. There was no chance guards of the Central Cities would ever honor the flag of parley. But at least their aim is an arrest rather than an immediate execution.
“Okay,” I say, somehow managing a dry smile. “Sounds good to me.”
That takes the guards by surprise. They stare at me suspiciously as I extend my wrists for them to handcuff.
One of the guards lowers his gun as he approaches me.
It’s the other guard who gives an awkward jerk before he slumps to the ground. Then the one with the cuffs falls too. Then the one holding the flag.
Ben. He climbed a tree beside the road with his rifle to get the best position for shooting.
The guards farther back start to fire in response, but they’re attacked from either side. Maybe it’s only Vella, Roderick, and the others who were left at the Arsenal, butit feels like it’s a lot of gunfire. It feels like it’s an army swooping down on the troops. I pull my pistol from my holster and start running off the road where I might get some cover, but I don’t get far.
The impact of the bullet hits me before the pain. I jerk to the side, still moving forward from the momentum of my run. I end up falling face-first on the side of the road, a weird, deep, sharp ache pulsing out from the upper right side of my chest.
Of course. What else? I was shot after all.
Just on the verge of getting to cover.
Typical.
The wound hurts like hell and is bleeding all over me and the road. I try to lift myself back to my feet but don’t have the strength.
