AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Forty-Six
Gina
The atmosphere is heavy. I can feel the heat like a brand on my back. It burns like a fire, searing my skin like a red-hot branding iron as I pull Joel into my lap. His eyes close and then open again, and I let out a guttural cry. It sounds so foreign, so animalistic, that if I didn’t know it came from me, I might never believe it.
“Joel!” I scream, shaking him, but his body doesn’t move.
I am sure he is dead. I can see the hole in his chest. Blood is seeping through his shirt and soaking through the fabric of his pants and pouring onto the walkway. I press my hand against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
My face is sticky with blood, and my hands are covered in it. It is warm and sticky and soaks into my cuticles. I can taste it on my lips, thick and salty. My brain is screaming at me to get up and run, but my body is paralyzed with fear. I can’t move and my legs feel like jelly. My hands are shaking, and I can’t stop them.
“Joel,” I say, “please, don't do this. I need you.” His face is damp and cool as I hold it in my hands. I shake him again, but it is no use. His eyes are fixed, and he is not moving. I hold him, rocking back and forth.
“Please, baby,” I whisper in his ear. “Please.”
This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, but I can still see it all, still feel the blood seeping through my fingers onto the walkway, the sharp tangy smell of it mixed with the metallic odor of iron.
I feel something wet on my face, but I don’t know if it is tears or blood. I wipe my face with my sleeve and lean in closer to my husband. I kiss his mouth, and then kiss his eyelids, his cheeks, his forehead, his neck.
“Joel,” I plead, tears streaming down my face. I try to sit him up a little, but he is dead weight. I consider the pistol lying at his side. I reach over and pick it up. Maybe it would be better if I died too.
When I look up, Officer Baker is coming toward me. The dogs circle around me, growling, ready to attack anything or anyone that gets too close.
“Mary, Mother of God,” he says. I expect that he’d have his weapon drawn, but he doesn’t. It’s a mistake. Poor judgment on his part, like coming here. Like refusing to leave. Like shooting my husband. Anger bubbles up from somewhere deep within. This is my property, and he had no right to be here. Especially not once I asked him to leave. I don’t care if his wife’s car is in the driveway or not.He, just like his nosy wife, wasn’t invited.
Before I know what I am doing, I push Joel off me. I jump to my feet and take aim at Edward Baker. “Get back,” I say.
He palms the gun that is still on his hip.
I swallow hard. “Don’t come near him.”
Yes, I’m in shock, but I’m also enraged.
It didn’t have to be this way.
“Drop the weapon,” he says. There’s fear in his eyes, but more than that, pity. “You don’t want to do anything stupid.”
“I already have,” I say.
Sweat slides down his temple. “I don’t want to have to shoot you.”
“Fine,” I say. And then I pull the trigger.
The bullet erupts from the barrel and plunges into his body. I hear the air forced out of him in a sickening gasp, like the noise of a punctured tire. His eyes widen and then bulge from their sockets. Blood gushes from his mouth. His hands fly to his throat. I meant to aim for his chest, but I’m a novice, so I hit a little high, just not high enough. Still, he's struggling against the inevitable. Blood sprays from his throat, and he makes a gurgling noise. He gasps for air, but it's futile. I wonder if I ought to shoot him again, put him out of his misery, but then he stumbles, falls to the ground. I stare at him. He’s kind of flailing about like a fish out of water.
When he hits the pavement, I drop the weapon. It clatters to the ground and I kick it away, out of reach. It takes me a second to realize what I have done.
I'm breathing too fast. I try to slow it down, but can't. My chest burns. I think I might have a heart attack right here, next to my husband's dead body.
Baker is still alive. He is on his back, looking up at me. His uniform is slick with blood. His right arm moves up and then down, like he is waving to me. Maybe this goes on for minutes, or maybe it's only seconds. Time means nothing. At some point, he takes one last breath and then stops moving. He is dead.
I stare at him for a long time. I'm still breathing too fast. Adrenaline keeps my legs from buckling, and I'm standing over him, taking it all in.
Eventually, I walk over to my husband and kneel down next to him. Blue is lying at his side. Annie is standing next to him, keeping watch.
“Joel,” I say. My voice shakes. I touch his hair, his cheek. “I’m sorry.” Tears roll down my face. “I’m so sorry.”
