Status: Updates are sporadic and may occur at whim, but I do try to add chapters regularly.
Silent Nights
Pack it In
I take a second to really look at the bodies. There are two by the truck’s bumper, one to my right, and another to my left. Four shots, four kills. I’ve never seen someone shoot like that, except maybe in movies. The head is a pretty small target to hit- especially when it’s moving- but she did it. It’s hard not to be impressed by the accuracy of those shots. Impressed and terrified.
Looking to my right I see Sara still sitting in the grass. She has her arms wrapped around her legs and her forehead on her knees. She’s perfectly still, perfectly silent. I can’t imagine what she’s feeling right now. It’s one thing to shoot one of those corpses- that I’ve done. But shooting another person?
“Sara,” I call. “We really do need to leave.” Those shots will draw attention. Whether it’s these guys’ buddies or something else entirely, I’d rather not stick around to find out.
As I watch, Sara slowly stands up and turns around. She pulls out her hair tie as she turns around and runs her fingers through her hair as she walks to the truck. She stops when she reaches the first body. With a practiced ease, she puts her hair back into a bun and swipes a hand across her face. Like magic, she’s wiped away any trace of the girl who just lost it on the side of the road.
I watch her as she takes in the scene, sliding her eyes over the blood and gore she’s painted all over the road with a seeming disinterest. She takes a deep breath and -without so much as a shudder- she reaches down and picks up her handgun. She holds it away from her, kind of frowning at the blood dripping off of it.
“We’ll clean them later,” I offer. She sets the gun on the hood of the truck without acknowledging that I said anything. Instead she wipes her hand off on her outer shirt before undoing the buttons and taking it off. She grabs her gun with it and walks around to the back of the truck.
“We taking theirs too?” Matt asks from the other side of the truck. I nod and look down at the nearest body. His rifle is lying on the road, just outside the blood pooling around him. I pluck it from the pavement and check his pockets for anything useful.
Matt and I quickly search the rest of the bodies. There’s not much to find, besides the four extra guns. We bring all of them to the back of the truck. Sara has the window up, straddling the tailgate as she carefully wipes the blood off the handle of her gun. She has it broken down, and the rest of the pieces are sitting on a blanket on the plastic tote. When Matt and I walk up with the mostly blood-covered weapons, though, she grabs the pieces of her gun. In a matter of seconds she has it back in one piece and tucked safely into its holster.
“Those you can clean later,” she mumbles. She motions for us to toss the weapons we’re holding on the blanket. When we do, she unloads all of them and rolls everything up in the blanket. Once she’s satisfied that the bundle of guns are secured, Sara hops down off the gate and I pull the window shut.
“You hear that?” Matt asks.
Looking to my right I see Sara still sitting in the grass. She has her arms wrapped around her legs and her forehead on her knees. She’s perfectly still, perfectly silent. I can’t imagine what she’s feeling right now. It’s one thing to shoot one of those corpses- that I’ve done. But shooting another person?
“Sara,” I call. “We really do need to leave.” Those shots will draw attention. Whether it’s these guys’ buddies or something else entirely, I’d rather not stick around to find out.
As I watch, Sara slowly stands up and turns around. She pulls out her hair tie as she turns around and runs her fingers through her hair as she walks to the truck. She stops when she reaches the first body. With a practiced ease, she puts her hair back into a bun and swipes a hand across her face. Like magic, she’s wiped away any trace of the girl who just lost it on the side of the road.
I watch her as she takes in the scene, sliding her eyes over the blood and gore she’s painted all over the road with a seeming disinterest. She takes a deep breath and -without so much as a shudder- she reaches down and picks up her handgun. She holds it away from her, kind of frowning at the blood dripping off of it.
“We’ll clean them later,” I offer. She sets the gun on the hood of the truck without acknowledging that I said anything. Instead she wipes her hand off on her outer shirt before undoing the buttons and taking it off. She grabs her gun with it and walks around to the back of the truck.
“We taking theirs too?” Matt asks from the other side of the truck. I nod and look down at the nearest body. His rifle is lying on the road, just outside the blood pooling around him. I pluck it from the pavement and check his pockets for anything useful.
Matt and I quickly search the rest of the bodies. There’s not much to find, besides the four extra guns. We bring all of them to the back of the truck. Sara has the window up, straddling the tailgate as she carefully wipes the blood off the handle of her gun. She has it broken down, and the rest of the pieces are sitting on a blanket on the plastic tote. When Matt and I walk up with the mostly blood-covered weapons, though, she grabs the pieces of her gun. In a matter of seconds she has it back in one piece and tucked safely into its holster.
“Those you can clean later,” she mumbles. She motions for us to toss the weapons we’re holding on the blanket. When we do, she unloads all of them and rolls everything up in the blanket. Once she’s satisfied that the bundle of guns are secured, Sara hops down off the gate and I pull the window shut.
“You hear that?” Matt asks.