I don't own Primeval. Now start reading.
Chapter 8
Sarah held Abby's child, wrapped in one of Connor's old sweatshirts, against her chest in terror. There had been a gunshot outside--was one of their friends shot?
Connor didn't take his glistening eyes off Helen for a moment. "Why did you make him help deliver my baby?" he asked in a low growl, though he already knew the answer. "Why not just kill us?"
"Because, stupid boy, I needed a bargaining chip. If Abby was dead, you'd have nothing to lose. Alive, one shot and you lose everything--everything you've ever dreamed."
Abby was reaching out to take her child from Sarah, who quickly obliged her. Connor allowed his gaze to flick once to his wife before glaring at Helen again.
"You don't think I can shoot?" he asked. Helen looked contemplative a moment, finally narrowing her eyes on Connor and answering.
"I think anyone who can shoot without losing their head is psychotic," she answered. "But then you'd have no knowledge that you destroyed your life, so that's a plus. Or that you destroyed your child's life."
Connor's hand was shaking; the tears that fell from the corners of his eyes blended with the sweat falling like blood droplets from his scalp. How can you throw your entire life away, and change the lives of countless others? By knowing that you're saving lives, that's how.
He remembered a few words of a song he learned as a kid:
There ain't no room
For the hopeless sinner
Who'd desert all mankind
Just to save his own.
He shook his head. Would Abby want him to do this? He didn't have time to ask--it would hardly be an appropriate question, asking to kill their child when he hadn't even gotten a good look at the kid--
He took a single breath, held it a moment, and then exhaled. Helen closed her eyes, leaning in slightly to the gun. She hardly looked afraid--she didn't think he'd to it. He squeezed the trigger back gently--
It suddenly felt as though the sky was falling.