Kristen Simmons - Article 5

“We did it!” I stifled a scream this time.

He didn’t smile until he’d seen for himself that the driveway was clear. After he was out, we pushed the cart over to the drop-off area at the crematorium. Behind the building was a wooded slope, which led to the subdivision and the gas station. This was where we would disappear.

“Come on.” Chase grabbed my hand.

But the skin on my neck prickled. Boots clacked across the pavement.

I spun around, my heart already leaping into my throat.

Tucker Morris was jogging up the hill, alone. It was too late to run, he had already seen us. He stopped three yards away, hands on his belt. His eyes were focused behind me, on Chase.

“So it’s true.” His voice was filled with both trepidation and disgust. “A soldier in sick bay told me you turned yourself in last night. I had to see for myself.” He laughed wryly. “The chart on the door said ‘Jennings,’ but she sure didn’t look like you.”

Delilah. “Did anyone else see her?” I asked, flattening the apprehension in my voice.

“Not yet,” he threatened.

It struck me as odd that Tucker hadn’t alerted the entire base to our escape, but then I realized he would likely get in trouble for it. He was trying to fix a mistake on his shift before his command found out what had happened.

Chase was still silent. Somehow, he’d placed himself between Tucker and me.

“You look surprised,” Tucker said to him. “You didn’t tell him I was here, Ember?” He used my first name just to get under Chase’s skin. He’d never called me that before.

“Don’t talk to her,” Chase growled. “Don’t even look at her.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll finish what I started and break your other arm.”

My pulse quickened.

“You can barely stand,” scoffed Tucker. But there was a cautious light in his eye.

“So it’ll be an even fight.”

“We’re leaving,” I told Tucker flatly.

“The hell you are.”

I felt my eyes twitch. Chase took a step forward, intending to make good on his threat. I grabbed his arm.

Tucker’s tone turned from vehemence to conceit.

“Have you told him yet? About how you gave it up in my office last night?” Tucker began walking purposefully toward us.

“Nothing happened.”

He grinned. “If I’d known you were that wild I’d have busted you out of reform school, too.”

“Go,” Chase told me under his breath.

“Not a chance,” I told him fiercely.

Tucker was still approaching. I knew if we turned our backs to him he’d reach for the radio at his belt and call for assistance. I couldn’t let that happen.

Chase was leaning forward, ready to pounce. Before I took another step, Tucker whipped the baton from his hip and lunged at us. Chase moved to intercept, but there was no need: Tucker’s advance had been cut short. He was frozen, the nightstick suspended over his shoulder. Surprised by the interruption, Chase glanced back at me. His eyes changed slightly when he registered the gun in my hands.

“ You stole my weapon?” He seemed genuinely surprised for a brief moment—but then his bravado returned. “You’ve really screwed yourself now.”

The gun was light as a feather in my hands. The rush was kicking through my system. I’d aimed the gun at Delilah but never considered actually shooting her. I thought if Tucker took another step forward I might just pull the trigger.

“Tucker, please let us go.” My words were icy.

“Begging?” He spat on the ground. “You sound like your mother did. Right before I shot her.”

My world stopped.

Tucker’s words sliced through my brain. Again and again.

Right before I shot her.

“You?” I asked weakly. I had assumed it was the CO that had killed her, but I was wrong. It was Tucker. That was why Chase had broken his arm. That was why Tucker had been promoted. I felt like I was going to be ill.

My blood was running cold. My mother’s killer was faceless no longer. I could see him holding the gun up, just behind Chase. See him shooting her.

“I thought you told her,” Tucker said to Chase. Chase said nothing.

“You killed her,” I said softly. My hands were wobbling.

“Ember.” I barely registered Chase saying my name.

“How could you?” Tucker was an inconceivable monster.

“I’m a damn good soldier. I did what needed to be done.”

His words hit me like a freight train.

“What needed to be done?” I repeated. The murder of an innocent woman was now necessary?

I focused on the gun. I would show him what needed to be done.

“Like you even know what to do with that,” mocked Tucker.

I glanced down, flicking the safety off.

“It’s a nine millimeter, isn’t it? I just pull back the slide, aim, and fire.”

With a steady hand I chambered the first round. Click.

Tucker faltered, his face blotching with crimson, his mouth hard and set. I couldn’t stop the images. Tucker lifting the weapon. The sound the gun must have made when it fired. The fear in her eyes. The death in her eyes.

“Em,” Chase whispered. I barely heard him.

I saw her. I saw her mischievous smile. The clips in her hair. She sang songs from back before the War, and we danced in the living room. She made me hot chocolate. She gave away her space in line at the soup kitchen.

She’d forgiven Chase for the overhaul. Thank God you’re here, she’d said to him in the cell. She’d forgiven Roy for hurting her. Me for making him leave. She would blame the MM for Tucker’s corruption.

She would be ashamed of me if I killed him. Because of that single fact, I knew I could not take his life.

But I wanted to.

Chase was still watching me. His eyes were filled with understanding. I knew he would have supported me, regardless of my decision.

“Get the gun from her, man,” said Tucker to Chase. He was trying to revive their old friendship. His words jolted me back.

“If I do, I’m shooting you myself,” Chase responded darkly. I knew that if I asked him to, Chase would kill Tucker. Part of me wanted him to, needed him to. But I focused on my mother’s face. She had loved Chase, too. She wouldn’t want his soul any more compromised than it had already been.

Tucker shifted. “Think about what this will mean for you. You’ll never be able to stop running.” Fear laced through his voice.

“I’ve thought about it.” Last chance, I told myself. But my mind was made up. “We’re leaving, Tucker. Walk away. Or I will shoot you.”

I ignored the hammering of my pulse against my temple. I felt no fear, no anger. The grief, too, was gone. My whole body focused on the completion of this single task: securing our safety.

How like Chase I had become.

“What am I supposed to tell my command?” Tucker’s voice cracked.

“You tell them that Chase is dead. He didn’t make it to his trial. His chart is ‘completed.’ You tell them that he was taken to the crematorium. You tell them that I stole the key from Delilah by force, and when she confessed, you had me ‘completed’ too.”

Yesterday, I’d thought it pitiful that Tucker had threatened Delilah into silence. Now I was banking on it. I hoped this would save the sad old woman from the same fate as my mother.

“And if I say no?”

“You can always tell them that two criminals escaped on your shift, right in front of you. Though I doubt that would bode well for that career plan of yours.”

Several long beats of silence.

Tucker swore.

“All right. All right! ”

Something cracked inside of me. I knew I was on the verge of breaking now.