Chapter 9
Charlie tried to cross the stream, but Colby's hand propelled him down the middle. At some point, he realized he was starting to hear words again.
"There's an outcrop of rocks ahead," Colby panted "You take cover there and I'll double back to be sure."
Charlie stumbled and tried to stop. Now Colby was ahead a little, and he started pulling him. "Don't worry. I've done this a few times. I'm sure he's dead. First priority, secure the civilians."
Charlie tore his eyes off his feet long enough to look ahead and see the outcrop of rocks.
He almost started to breathe, again.
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Addison knew he only had one shot.
He was almost surprised he had managed to stay at least slightly conscious, managed to rip the knife from his gut and struggle to his feet, managed to stagger through the clearing and to the trees at the edge of the stream.
He knew that he was dying, knew that he was bleeding out internally. He could feel it, and he had done the same thing to a number of people himself. Hell, he had taught Granger his technique.
He should be dead already, but he had lost his spleen from a gut shot in Afghanistan — that's why they all had to die, his former unit members. They had panicked under fire, hadn't backed up their C.O. They had challenged his judgment. The Army refused to Court Martial them for mutiny, believing their side of the story. He had taken matters into his own hands, then.
Without a spleen to viscerate, the knife hadn't done all the damage it was supposed to. It had done enough, though. He knew that. His knees wobbled and he braced himself harder against the tree, used its solid bark to steady his hands as he took aim.
His boy was already dead. He was dying.
He wasn't going alone.
The last breath that left him was long, like a sigh, and the force of it helped him squeeze the trigger. He barely had time to see the bullet hit its mark before he sank to the ground himself.
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Colby was still pulling at Charlie, so he forced himself to slow a little and draw even with him. "Been holding out on me, kid," he panted. Charlie just looked at him. "That was a helluva shot, back there. Thanks. You saved my …"
Charlie had looked away as soon as Colby started talking about what he had done to Bennie Addison, but then he felt something spray his face, vaguely heard something over the noise of them running through the stream. He looked back to see if Colby had splashed him with water, or something, but Colby was gone.
Charlie automatically raised a hand to his face, stopped running. Something pushed hard against his feet, and he almost fell over. He looked down and saw that Colby was lying on his back in the stream, one arm floating out to brush Charlie's ankle. His eyes were open, staring unseeing into the rising sun.
A sound escaped Charlie's throat and he dropped to his knees in the water, which was turning as pink as the sky. He turned Colby's head, and his hand came away wet, sticky, red.
He saw then that Colby looked just like Bennie Addison the last time he had seen him. The back of his skull was gone, and things were coming out of his head, floating away in the water.
Charlie came to his feet again, waded around Colby until he could place his hands under both arms. It was hard to drag him out of the water. Colby was heavier than Charlie, and Charlie was in shock, frightened, exhausted … but he couldn't let Colby float away from him in pieces.
He grunted, heaved and pulled. He wondered as he saw his own tears fall on Colby's face if it had started raining. He never knew that he was crying.
One last wrench and Charlie fell backwards out of the stream, dragging Colby with him. He lay looking up at the sky, growing lighter by the minute, and felt Colby's face under his hand. He caressed it.
"It'll be all right," he said, even though he knew that it would never be all right for Colby again. "I won't leave you here."
