I had always heard that being shot hurt. Mostly it burned. A friend of mine had served in Vietnam and was wounded twice. Both times he said his wounds had burned like hell. But I felt nothing. Perhaps John hit my heart and I was already dead, and just my soul remained erect. Maybe he missed. No, that wasn’t possible. He was way too close. I looked down at my chest for what would be a lot of blood from the fresh wounds. I felt my chest and raised my hands to examine my blood, my life flow.
I saw nothing. I felt nothing. I was dead. I knew my lifeless body was below me face down on the ground. This was just the beginning of my afterlife. I had been released from this earthly torment, finally. I looked up at John expecting to see a large grin. Instead, I saw only bewilderment. His eyes stared at me, crazy like. He coughed, and that’s when I first saw the blood. Coming from his mouth. Just a little at first, and then much more, a lot more.
John dropped to his knees, the gun now at his side. I watched closely as his crazed eyes stared at me further. Then, after just a second on his knees, he fell forward, face first into the mud a few feet away. I stared at what I assumed was his now lifeless body, lying face down in the water and mud. I wondered if he was already in hell, the only place that would accept a man like John.
I slowly looked up, over his body at his killer. I half expected to see Trevor, his son. Was I next? The shooter still had their weapon pointed where John once stood, directly at me. I started carefully.
“You should point that thing down. He’s dead I think. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.” The shooter stared at the dead body between us and then up to me. “Just point it down, please.” The gun didn’t move. “At least put the safety back on. Please?” I was getting worried.
It shocked me that I wasn’t more excited, more animated. Typically, when one has a gun pointed at them, when one has a person shot standing practically next to them, they tend to get fairly excited. But I was speaking slowly and deliberately. Very carefully. I took a small step towards the shooter.
“Point the gun down, please, Brit? That thing could go off again.” She stared at me, her eyes larger than I had seen before. She shook slightly. A few tears streaked her tiny face.
“I heard what he said. He was awful. He was going to hurt me, right?”
I nodded. “Yes he was, Britney.”
“And he was going to kill you, wasn’t he?” More tears, the gun slowly began to point down, inch by inch.
“He most certainly was, Britney. He was going to kill me.” I took a few more small steps towards her. The gun was finally by her side.
“Then I did the right thing, right?” She started to cry. I moved quicker for her. I reached down and took the gun from her small trembling hand, carefully resetting the safety.
“You had no other choice. None.” I placed the gun in my pocket and reached to hug the weeping child. She lowered her head and accepted my embrace.
“Then why do I feel like I’ve just sentenced myself to hell?” I felt her heave with sobs. I couldn’t blame her. I’d probably be acting the same if I had just killed a man. I stroked the back of her head and she continued to cry.
“I believe God will forgive you for this, Britney. You did the only thing you could. God probably gave you the strength to do it. I’m sorry you had to be the one.” I felt her nod against my chest. “But I’m not sorry he’s dead.”
She looked up at my face still clutching me tightly. “I took the gun because you had it sitting out. And I knew you had a hundred things on your mind this morning. I just didn’t want us to forget it. So I stuck it in my sweatshirt pocket so we wouldn’t.” She spoke quickly. “And then I heard him. And the awful things he said. I snuck in behind him. Didn’t you see me?” I shook my head letting her continue. “When he said goodbye, I shot him. I had so much trouble figuring out the safety. Otherwise I would have done it earlier.” She looked at me desperately. “I did the right thing, right?”
I gave her a small nod. “Yes, you did. And you were brave. And you saved my life. Thank you.”
She shook away a few last tears. “You’ve saved me so many times out here, Bill. So many. From the first moment, up ‘til now. I should be thanking you. Instead I’ve been a shit to you. I’m sorry.” She was sincere, our emotions were too raw now for anything but sincerity.
“You never have to say that to me, Britney. We’re in this together. For good and for bad.” I stared into her blue eyes wondering how I was ever going to be able to say goodbye to this wonderful young lady. I dismissed that thought for the time being. “Want to get going?” She looked concerned.
“What about his body?”
“He deserves to rot out here.”
She agreed with the bob of her head. “What about his son?”
Good point. I thought about it for a bit before responding. “We can get to Frederic within a couple hours, if not your grandparent’s place. We’ll let whatever’s left of the authorities know about that. They can come and sort it all out. As far as we know, that gang of thugs is back at his place. I don’t want to risk going there again.” Brit nodded thoughtfully at the plan.
Finally, after almost two days of hiding, we emerged from the brush for the last time. I thought about going back and grabbing John’s weapon, but his dead body lay on top of it. I didn’t want anything further to do with him, so I left it be. We cautiously made our way down the gravel road back to 280th. We looked both east and west thoroughly for any signs of trouble before heading out. Slowly, hand in hand, we walked quiet and sullen to the west.
As we walked, I noticed Brit was silent and still limping slightly. Her brain was consumed with the thoughts of what she had just done, I presumed, and her feet must still be hurting. I felt like I was pulling her along, like she had lost her way, her will. I decided to stay silent. She needed time to herself. Even if we were still together, alone on the road. She needed to process what had happened a mere ten minutes prior. It couldn’t be easy for her; she was so young and had acted so adult, so mature. I thought I’d have done the same thing given a turn of the tables. I’m sure I would have. I had threatened violence so many times this last week. Pulled that gun out and pointed it at someone. Sure I would have, at least I hope I would have.
Brit tugged at me to stop before we got back to the main corner of 280th and 35. I could see the corner and wanted to continue. She pulled again.
“Brit, we’re almost there. We need to keep going. You’ve been through enough. Let’s get this over with.” I looked at her but she didn’t meet my gaze.
Instead, she broke our grasp and turned to look behind us. There was nothing, no one on the road this morning. Then she walked forward several steps and looked to the west. Carefully studying the road in front. Again it was empty. Her small hands came to her face and wiped at her mouth. She looked down. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but something told me to just let her be.
It came slowly at first. A tear she quickly wiped away then another. She stumbled a few steps into the ditch. I thought maybe she needed to sit down. She leaned forward, hands on her bare knees. I saw her back begin to arch, ever so slowly like a wave forming in the sea. There was a wave alright, a wave of nausea. First a little, then a mighty wave that racked her body. Then many waves. The poor thing hadn’t ate or drank anything in several days, but somehow her stomach found something to hurl into the ditch. Finally, when she seemed to be finished, she fell on her rear, away from the bile.
She sobbed. I’ve never seen anyone cry so hard. For her body being so small, I couldn’t believe the grief trying to escape. I tried to console her with words of encouragement and a soft touch on the shoulder, but she waved me away. I knelt nearby and watched as poor Britney McMahon let out 14 years of feelings. I watched as she heaved in sobs flushing out years and years of despair, guilt, anguish and most likely even some hate. She got it all out and finally flopped on her back in the grass, hands to her head.
“I’m sorry I don’t have any water to give you.” I could see a string of lefto
ver phlegm hanging on her chin. Using my sleeve, I wiped it away. “If there is anything I can do to help, please tell me Brit. I know this has been hard on you. It’s been terrible. So, if you need anything just ask.”
She looked up from her supine position and shook her head. She was spent. It finally all had come out and she was exhausted.
“I just want to lie here for a while. I can’t make it. My whole body aches. My brain aches. Maybe you should go on without me.”
I came closer and sat next to her in the brownish grass. Even with all the rain lately the grass was still its usual late summer color. “I think I’ll just wait for you. I got time.” I looked closely at her to be sure she was still breathing, and she was. “I got nothing but time.”
She was quiet for a good ten minutes before she opened her eyes and turned her head to look in my direction. “I can’t take any more of this. I just can’t. I’m not meant for this.” She stared at me like I could read her mind.
“Meant for killing?” I laughed slightly and looked away. “I don’t think many of us are meant for that. Not me, that’s for sure.”
“No, I mean this life. This world. I know you think I’m tough and all that, but really I’m not. I just act that way.”
“A lot of people act that way Brit. It’s a defense mechanism.” Maybe that would help.
“I know. I just don’t think I can be on guard day and night like this. We never get a moment’s rest. Every time it looks like we might get a little break, something else bad happens. Every time I smile, something bad comes.” She stopped and shook her head trying to exorcise her demons. “Just leave me here and go on. I can’t take one more bad thing I don’t think. God only knows what we’ll find next. I’m not sure I can take another disappointment.” She sat up finally. “And my feet really hurt.” I rose and stuck my hand next to her.
“Here, get up. I’ll carry you for a while. You probably weigh less than my pack did.” Finally she smiled. I wasn’t sure if the smile was at me or because of me. It didn’t matter, it was nice to see her smile.
“You won’t leave me, will you?” Her face became contorted searching for an answer to a really tough question.
“I’m not sure any more, Brit. I just don’t know.” I looked closely into her eyes. “You know what I’m searching for. I know what you need. They’re mutually exclusive; we both know that. I can’t promise anything anymore.” I pulled her up by her hand. “Actually I can promise you that I’m not leaving you in this ditch. Not after all we’ve been through. Let’s get going.” I squatted and offered my back to her. For a moment she looked, carefully considering the option. Finally she sighed and climbed on. I stood. She was even lighter than I had expected.
She wrapped her thin arms around my neck and whispered to me, “I have no idea how I’m ever going to repay you. For everything you’ve done for me. I have absolutely no idea.” I bounced her up slightly, higher on my back.
“Are you kidding? An hour ago you saved my butt. Like you ever need to do anything more.”
I felt her chin settle on my right shoulder. “Yeah, I guess I did, didn’t I?” She squeezed tighter. “Go figure.”
We walked silently to the corner some fifty yards away. Well, I walked and carried my companion. I thought back to when I had left home, a week before. I had brought so many things with me. So many things I was going to need for my journey. I laughed at how foolish, how naïve I had been. Of all the possessions I had in life, none really mattered that much anymore. I had the clothes I was wearing, a gun in my pocket, and Brit on my back. That’s all I had left this morning. And that’s all that really mattered any longer.
I peered carefully to the north and south as we arrived at the corner. The rain had driven all of the people off the road. No one was alive this morning. It was as if Brit and I were the last two people on earth. How long would this last? Could we possibly make it another hour without any trouble?
Chapter 33