Роберт Уилсон - Days Since... - Jenny - Day 986

Jenny came from behind the desk with only one thing on her mind. The rest of the room didn’t matter. Nothing did. Except this. She crouched down in front of him and lifted his head, staring into his eyes, watching him fade from this world. Click. Click. His finger still pulled at the revolver’s trigger. Jenny grabbed hold of the gun, ripped it from his failing grip then released the cylinder—all the spent brass pinging against the floor.

“What you did to me…” She clenched her jaw. “You…” An exhale, second guessing what she was about to do. “You know what… it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re already dead, not worth it. Fuck you.”

“I…” Griffin’s eyes fluttered, struggling to find hers despite them being right in front of his face “I… already did.” His lips bent into a crooked smile.

“You…” Jenny shook her head in disgust. Any chance of her walking away passed with his arrogant remark. It crossed the line, flooding her body with anger. Even on the verge of death, he offered no regret for what he had done to her. No repentance. His death was justified, and Jenny was now more than willing to assist.

Gazing into his dimming eyes, her breaths sped forth. Her hands shook, clutching the scissors. You deserve this. One last inhale—she held it in then plunged the tip of the scissors into Griffin’s throat, driving it as deeply as she could, twisting it the whole way through. A rasping groan. His body shuddered, but the wound barely bled—the crimson pool he sat within left little doubt why. She stood, considered pulling the scissors out, but decided against it. When the others found him, this is how he deserved to be. A coward who died screaming for help. Slumped against a desk. His clothing torn, blood soaked. Scissors jutting from his neck.

An unsettling silence shook her as she turned from Griffin. Apprehensive, her eyes gathered the room, trying to reassess the situation. Where’s— Her gut tightened. “Danny!” His boots lay just inside the door. His body out of view. Rushing over, she rounded the corner into the hallway. He lay there motionless, face down, pistol in hand while Sherman circled his body, whining, nudging him with his muzzle.

She knelt at his side. “Danny…” she whispered. He didn’t move. She took hold of his coat and tugged, then shook him, then more and more, harder and harder. “Come on…” Her voice broke into sobs and gasps. It couldn’t be helped. “No, no, no. Danny. No.” She tried to swallow her cries, to keep them down, but they continued to surface. “This isn’t right… It can’t be how—” Sherman pushed at his head again. “I’m sorry, boy. You might not want to see this.” Sobbing, she eased Danny’s head to the side, hoping it wasn’t true.

Only a vacant stare. Lines of blood from mouth and nose. From a wound just below his right eye. She ran her shaking hand over his eyelids. They accepted the darkness. Never to see the light again. “Why…?” Fucking Griffin. She shuddered from the cold, from her emotions. Everything in this moment. “Damn it, Danny…” Jenny stood for only a moment before panic struck her again.

Matt and Grant…

It wasn’t over. Not even close. Her head was spinning—too much happening at once. I know it’s not right to leave you, but… She bit into her lip. You know if I didn’t leave now, you’d be yelling at me. You’d be telling me not to waste any time. Well, you’re right. I have to go. Jenny steeled herself against the loss of Danny. Mourning would have to come later. She wiped the tears along her bare arm. It’s time.

Jenny undid the holster from his leg and fitted it around her own. Next, she took the Smith & Wesson from his hand, mindful to peel his finger away from the trigger. Fully loaded and ready to go, she reholstered the weapon. Alright… A moment of hesitation. What she was about to do was distressing, uncomfortable. His body was limp. Moving him felt wrong, but necessary. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this without your help. She eased into his pockets, respectfully searching for anything else she might need. Only his keyring and Sherman’s lead seemed useful. This isn’t good-bye. I’ll be back. I promise.

A strange gurgling noise came from inside the office behind her.

What now? Taking a deep breath, she took the pistol from its holster and brought it eye level. She positioned herself near the door jamb. Ready but nervous, only now did she remember the revolver she left lying at his feet. Take it slow. The muzzle wavered slightly while she cleared the room in sections. His body came into view—still slouched against the desk in his own filth. She took cautious steps toward him to retrieve the gun, cursing herself for leaving the damn thing, but when she had seen Danny, her concern for him had gotten the better of her judgment.

Nearing him, her stomach writhed—the smell of gunpowder—the smell of iron from his blood. With her pistol aimed squarely at his chest, she fished for the revolver with her foot. There we go! She slid it away, stepping backwards with her muzzle steady on him. Quickly, she scooped it from the floor along with her shirt, coat, and boots. She dressed, eyeballing Griffin the entire time. Is he dead yet? She needed to be sure. Before leaving, Jenny dared a touch on the side of his neck—his skin cold with a sickly pallor. No pulse. Dead. Gone, but it didn’t make up for Danny. Closure would come later. Now, she had to focus on getting her friends back.

“Hier!” With haste, she and Sherman tore through the back corridor to the office where she’d seen Matt and Grant earlier. There’s probably not much time left. At some point, someone would be there to investigate the gunfire. The rooftop guards had to have heard it. Perhaps, the crowd outside by the burn barrel hadn’t. That must have been the holdup—not that she was complaining. Jenny needed the delay.

If found, the Depot guards might hold her, question her. It wasn’t like she could say she hadn’t seen anything. With blood on her pants. Danny’s gun. Sherman. She’d be interrogated for hours—their interest fixated on what happened—the loss of two leaders. Matt and Grant would shift to the back burner. It was best no one saw her. The Second Alliance would only get further and further away. Her friends disappearing with them.

Damn… The door to the room stood open. No one inside. The chairs overturned, but the ropes and gags gone, more than likely still binding them, keeping them from calling for help. They had to sneak out the back with them. There’s no way they’d just walk out the front with Grant and Matt tied up or whatever. People would wonder what the hell was going on. She eyed both ends of the corridor. But which way did they go? Probably not that way. Danny’s room was only a few feet away. That fact gave her pause. Wait, why…? She searched herself, trying to deny dangerous thoughts before they soiled Danny’s reputation. But she couldn’t think beyond them. Danny… Why didn’t you stop them? When Griffin sent you here with that letter, you could’ve freed them. Don’t you have a key to that room? What the hell…? “Now they’re gone,” she said under her breath.

No… There’s no way Danny would’ve just let them be taken without a fight. There has to be a reason why. But what? She began toward his room. He knew what was about to happen with the S.A. He told me to find them. It’s the last thing he asked me to do. He gave me a frickin’ knife because he knew the risk. Danny’s door sat open slightly. She creaked it further in, then shut it behind her, turning the lock. Okay… Beside her, two rifles, a pistol, and an array of knives lay out on his bed. A box of ammunition spilled across the floor. Must’ve been in a hurry to leave his—” She exhaled. Her shoulders sank. “That’s why… He heard me scream. All these weapons right here. He was planning on fighting back, but he heard me. And, he stopped. He let the S.A. get away, so he could help me, hoping he could save them later . But, obviously that can’t happen now. It’s on me. I’ve gotta do it.