“Let me in there!” Sallie screamed at the soldiers who held her back. “Let go of me! I need to get in here! There are children in there!”
“Children have legs, don't they?” One of the soldiers remarked and cackled. “They can get out themselves.”
“You don't understand!” A devastated Sallie wailed as her orphanage was swallowed by flame. Every time she tried to struggle, both soldiers tightened their grip on her. “Some of the children won't make it out on their own, you idiots! There are toddlers and infants and--”
When the soldier got tired of hearing her, his knuckles met her cheek.
The punch was enough to elicit a reaction from Patrick Amberley, who effortlessly shot both soldiers in the head as he approached.
“Sallie Hundley.” As soon as Patrick greeted her, the terrified woman dove into his arms. Though he hadn't been her lover for over two years, she remembered him fondly. “You look like you've seen better days, sweetheart.”
“Patrick, you have to help me!” Sallie cried. “There are children in there! Most of them made it out, but there are babies in the back room a-a-and toddlers on the second floor. The soldiers wouldn't let me get them before they set the building on fire! They didn't care!”
“We'll get them out,” Patrick promised her. “Or I will. I don't know about Josiah. Maybe his idea of a good time ain't running into a burning building to save the day?” When Pat turned to his friend and partner, Josiah bowed his head in solemn acceptance of the dangerous task ahead of them. “Alright. We'll get in there and save those kids. Don't you worry your pretty little head, Miss Hundley.”
Before stepping into the burning building, Josiah paused at the door. As he raised the collar of his shirt over his nose, his gaze was pulled in the opposite direction, where a motocarriage roared down the street, carving its way through chaos.
Josiah recognized the driver, and a pleasant chill scurried down his spine.
It was Flynn Cole.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the seconds ticked by slower than usual. Both brothers smiled.
I'm proud to be your brother. Flynn's smile silently conveyed the words that were in his mind.
I'm proud of you too. Take care, little brother.
Somewhere in the back of their minds, maybe they knew it was the last time they would see each other.
Thirty Four
“I know Shuchun Jun's been staying here!” When Prince Feng screamed at the cowering innkeeper, a spray of spittle sprinkled his face. Despite his feverish search, he had yet to uncover any valuable information. The whereabouts of Jun were still unknown to him. “Tell me where she is! Tell me! Tell me right now! Tell me!” Feng hurled a chair against the wall. On impact, it splintered into a shower of wood.
“I don't know!” When the innkeeper tried to hide behind his desk, the prince shoved it aside, leaving him vulnerable. Behind him, the old man's wife was sobbing. “She was staying here, but I don't know where she is now!”
“Check her room! Perhaps you'll find a clue?” Feng suggested.
“But she checked out awhile ago. I don't know if--”
Feng seized the man's collar and dragged him to his feet. “Check her room! I'm not asking you, I'm telling you!” He shoved the old man in the direction of the inn's staircase. “If you don't come back with something, I swear to god, sir, I will slit your wife's throat!”
As the husband's wobbly legs ascended the stairs, the wife sank to the floor with a sob. While the old man searched, Feng went to the window and lit a cigarette. In his search for Jun, Gravestone had been torn asunder. His men were given license to take any means necessary to complete their goal—and yet, they found nothing. “Such incompetence,” Feng mumbled to himself. “Such damn incompetence.”
Shortly after his second puff on the cigarette, something caught the prince's eye. A lone motocarriage raced down the dusty road. When he saw the driver's face, Feng's lips were pulled into a wicked grin. Under his breath, he whispered, “I recognize you, boy. Is she with you? Hmm? Is my Princess Jun hiding in the back of your carriage? Has she been with you this whole time, waiting for me to find her?” Flicking his cigarette aside, Feng added, “Here I come, my love.”
Feng raced from the inn and raised his pistol. He fired on the fleeing motocarriage, blowing out its rear wheels. When he was out of bullets, he tossed his gun, drew his sword, and chased after the hobbled vehicle.
Without two of its wheels, Flynn's crippled motocarriage rolled to a halt. A secret shiver of fear scurried along his spine as he climbed down from the driver's seat. “Jun!” He popped open the motocarriage door and pulled her out. “We have to go now!”
“What is it, Flynn? What happened? I thought I heard--” When Jun glanced over her shoulder and saw Prince Feng charging toward them, she whispered a word she didn't often say. “Shit!”
“Come on, we have to go!” Flynn pushed her forward. “Stay in front of me!”
“Flynn! What are we going to do?”
Flynn started to turn and fire, but Feng was already too close, so he jostled Jun into an abandoned warehouse and yelled, “Go! Find a place to hide! Go go!”
Ignoring his racing heartbeat, Flynn hovered by the door and held out his shotgun, tripping the prince as he entered the warehouse. Feng fell flat on his face, but only for a moment. In the corner of his eye, he saw Flynn aiming his shotgun, so he rolled aside, out of range. The shell exploded beside him. Seconds later, Feng was back on his feet, swinging the sword that severed Josiah's arm. Flynn blocked with his gun, then he hopped backward and tried to aim again. But the prince was fast on his feet. He pivoted to the side and swung at Flynn. This time, the blade came so close, it shaved Flynn's head.
“You can't have her!” Feng screamed. “I won't let you have her! She's mine!”
“She belongs to no one!” Flynn countered with the butt of his shotgun. It slammed into Feng's face, crushing his nose, flattening the cartilage. With a gasp, the prince staggered backward. A river of blood flowed from his nose, soaking his shirt. While the prince was distracted by his own blood, Flynn attempted to aim his shotgun again, but it was knocked aside by Feng's sword. The outlaw almost lost his grip on it.
The next time Feng swung, Flynn blocked with the shotgun. While their weapons were crossed, Feng kicked him as hard as he could. The force of the kick made Flynn fall—but he didn't fall to the floor, he hit the wall. As Flynn struggled to regain his balance, Feng's sword swept forward yet again. At the last possible second, Flynn spun aside, out of range.
“Why do you want her so badly? Huh?” The prince screamed. “Why can't you let me have her? There are millions of women in the world... why not take one of them?”
“She's not yours to take!” As he staggered away from Feng, Flynn crouched down and yanked a dagger from his boot. He flung it at Feng, who somehow managed to deflect it with his sword. “And why do you want her so badly?”
“Because I want what's mine!” Feng's next sword stroke was so fast, it looked like a blur. When Flynn managed to block, he roared with anger. “She's the most beautiful woman in the world, isn't she?”
Feng swung again and again, and all Flynn could do was leap backward to evade his attacks. Flynn's stance looked weak, so the prince took advantage of it. He forced him to block again, then he kicked Flynn's legs out from under him. When Flynn fell, Feng stomped on his shotgun and kicked it across the room.
“Shuchun Jun... are you in here somewhere?” Feng cried out for her. “If you're here, you should come out now! You can watch me cut pieces off of your hero!”
A few seconds later, Shuchun Jun appeared in one of the warehouse's doorways. Her brow was furrowed and her body quaked with fear.
“Aha, there you are!” Feng exclaimed. “What do you think I should cut off first, my dear? Should it be his ear? His tongue? Or maybe an arm, like your former hero who dared to fight me and lost?”
Before Feng could decide, Jun raised Flynn's six-shooter and fired until it was out
of bullets. She shot the prince in the chest four times—only two bullets missed. Four red patches appeared on the front of Feng's shirt, and the blood spread until its entire surface was soaked in red.
“Jun...” First, he fell to his knees. Blood bubbled from the prince's quivering mouth as he whispered her name. “Why?”
He had no time to hear her answer, not when death was closing in on him. Feng slumped to the ground, and at the same time, Jun's gun slipped from her fingers.
“I thought I'd be sad,” Jun mumbled as she watched Flynn scramble to his feet. “I always thought I'd be sad if I killed someone... but I'm not. Is that bad, Flynn? Am I a bad person?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Are you sure?” When she felt Flynn's arms sliding around her, some of the tension left her shoulders. “Because I wanted him dead. I wanted him out of my life. I wanted to be sure he'd never wake up again and I... I've never felt that way before.”
“It's okay, Jun.” Flynn stroked her hair and attempted sympathy. He didn't know if he was the right person to comfort her, not when he had taken dozens of lives. The men he killed deserved their deaths, and he never regretted any of it. “I guess you saved me, didn't you?”
“Hmm.” Jun cocked her head and considered it. “I guess I did.”
As she stared at Prince Feng's motionless corpse, she didn't feel anything. No guilt. No joy. Not even the tiniest twinge of sadness.
More than anything, Jun was just glad to be free.
* * *
The orphanage was swallowed up in flame, and the situation was only getting worse, so Josiah and Patrick didn't have time to discuss who was going where. Patrick ran to the nursery with Sallie, while Josiah bounded up the stairs to search for the toddlers' room. Orange fire hotly crackled across half the staircase, so Josiah assumed he was getting the worse job. He climbed the stairs, two at a time, trying his best to avoid the spreading flame.
At the top of the stairs, he heard Sallie call to him, “Josiah... when you reach the long hallway, you need the last door on the left!”
Following her instructions, he reached the children's room much faster than he expected. As soon as Josiah threw open the door, a portion of the wooden floor collapsed into the room below. Josiah had to take a running leap to make it across the hole.
Of course, there had to be five children. How was he supposed to carry five children? Even with two working arms, it would have been impossible to carry more than two and race through a burning building without risking their lives. Most of them were crying, and the sound of their screams made Josiah's heart race. He wanted to save them all—but what was he supposed to do? What if he couldn't make it back? How was he supposed to choose who to leave behind and who to save?
Josiah quickly chose two of the girls. He lifted one into his mechanical arm and told her to hold on tight. He wasn't sure she was old enough to understand him, but when she wrapped her chubby arms around his neck, he assumed she did. He carried another girl in his right arm, held his breath, and charged across the gaping hole in the floor. When he made it down the stairs, Josiah's long-held breath was finally expelled. From there, it was only a short distance to the orphanage's front door. At least two of them are saved, he thought to himself.
Josiah left the two girls outside the orphanage and raced inside to rescue the rest—or die trying. On his way to the second floor, he paused. Some of the ceiling had collapsed on the stairs, blocking his path. “At least this thing's good for something,” Josiah whispered to himself as he used his mechanical arm to punch through the burning rubble.
Dense black smoke curled across the ceiling, reminding him to hurry. He reached the children's room, leapt across the hole in the floor, and faced the same dilemma as before: who would he save?
“Josiah!”
Josiah was so relieved by the sound of Patrick's voice, his eyes briefly rolled back in his head. At the rate the fire was spreading, he knew there was no way he could make it back for a third trip to the children's room.
“Josiah! Josiah, you in here?”
“Yeah. Watch out for the hole, Pat!”
When Patrick leapt into the room behind him, Josiah wanted to hug him. It was good to see a friendly face in the fire, even if the face was smudged with soot. “Grab the boys!” Josiah ordered Patrick as he hoisted the last little girl into his arm. She was about two years old, with big blue eyes, chubby cheeks and wild blonde curls. In some strange way, she reminded him of Carol Cassady.
The strangest thought entered Josiah's mind as he studied the girl's face. If he ever had children with Carol, the little girl in his arms would look like their offspring.
In a whisper, he chastised himself. “Okay, Jo, now you're losing it.” Why was he thinking such a ridiculous thought at such a ridiculous time?
Patrick grabbed the boys and leapt across the hole. When Josiah tried to join him on the other side of the gap, more of the floor dropped out.
“Shit, Jo!” Patrick trembled as he stared at the gaping hole in the floor. “How the hell are you gonna make it across now?”
“I'll try to find another way down!” Josiah could barely hear himself over the crackling fire, so he raised his voice and spoke again, “I'll look for another route! Maybe I'll climb down from a window? Don't wait for me, Pat. Don't wait--”
Before he finished speaking, the entire ceiling—and part of the roof—collapsed on his head.
Josiah Cole was gone.
Thirty Five
“It looks like some of the madness is dying down,” Nicky Gunn reported. He was standing near the edge of Julian's airship, holding a spyglass, scouring the ground as the ship circled the sky. “There are a lot of burning buildings, though.”
“With any luck, this thing'll be over by the end of the day.” As he spoke, Julian unwrapped a piece of candy, which had Nicky pouting with envy. “When do you think it's safe to land?”
“Not yet.” With his spyglass, Nicky could barely see the faces of people on the ground. They were crying, embracing, praying, and putting out fires, but no one was fighting anymore. “Maybe soon. Maybe...” His spyglass suddenly passed over a familiar face—one he didn't expect to see. “Ho... ly... shit.”
Julian perked up at Nicky's odd reaction. “What? What did you see?”
“My brother. My brother's down there!” Trying to get a better look at Patrick, Nicky leaned over the rail. He leaned so far, Julian had to drag him backward to save him from toppling over the side. “Julian, we have to stop the ship! You need to find someplace to land! Go!”
“But you just said it wasn't safe!” Julian exclaimed.
“It's safe enough!” Nicky spun the airship's captain in the direction of the helm. “I haven't seen my brother in months! So... be a good buddy and tell them to stop the airship! Please?”
* * *
Josiah Cole was gone. Josiah Cole was gone.
No matter how many times Patrick's mind replayed the words, it didn't seem real. He held back tears as he staggered from the orphanage. As soon as he passed the two boys to Sallie, he sank to the ground in the middle of the street.
“It's my fault,” Patrick whispered to himself. “It was my fault. It was my idea to go in there and save those kids. My fault.”
He lost his best friend because he wanted to be a hero. And yet, when he saw Sallie standing in the middle of all the children they saved, he couldn't resent their accomplishments.
For some time, Patrick was too depressed to move. He cradled his face in his palm and listened to pieces of conversations around him.
“Look, now that Prince Feng's dead, I'm the one in charge!” Hu Lian declared. “So I'm telling you what to do. You bastards need to get back on your airship and go home! Alright? Go. Home.”
“Is there any chance you can get the soldiers out of Santo Feo too?” asked a passing gentleman. “I have an aunt in Santo Feo.”
“Oh yeah, and get the hell out of Santo Feo!” Lian added. “Move it! If you aren't out of t
his city before the sun goes down, Vee and I are kicking every ass we see!”
At the other end of the street, Tom Harriot handcuffed a pair of Huoxian soldiers who ransacked a general store. As he led the prisoners to the jail, Isabella cautioned him, “No torture, Tom! Okay? I don't want to hear that you've beaten these people to death!”
“I wouldn't!” Tom insisted, even as he kicked the soldiers to get them to walk. “I'm a changed man because of you.”
Isabella's brow was incredulously raised. “Oh? Is that so?”
“Yes!” As he glared at the soldiers' heads, he felt an undeniable urge to punch them. But he didn't. “And if I haven't changed yet, I will change. Because I love you, Isabella.”
Patrick watched the scenes through vacant eyes. His face was blank, but his heart was swimming in anguish. The cloudless sky was getting darker, ushering in a glorious red sunset. It didn't fit his dreary mood.
“Patrick?”
When he heard Carol's voice, he cringed. He wasn't looking forward to telling her the terrible news.
“What are you doing out here all by yourself? Where's Josiah?”
For the next few seconds, Patrick silently stared into her eyes. Then he shook his head.
“What's that shaking head supposed to mean, exactly?” Carol sensed he was on the verge of saying something awful, so she sank to her knees beside him. “Did something happen to Josiah?”
“He's dead, Carol.” Patrick thrust a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the blazing orphanage behind him. “We ran into that building to save some kids and... Josiah didn't make it out.”
“He's still in here? Then we have to go in there and look for him! Or I'll go! If it's dangerous, you don't have to go with me.”
When Carol hopped her to her feet, Patrick dragged her back down. “No, Carol. There's no way I'm letting you go in there!” By the time she arrived, there wasn't much left of the orphanage to search. It was a hollowed out pile of ash and flame. “You didn't see what I saw, alright? There's no way he could've survived that. I'm... sorry.”
A Broken Outlaw (Belles & Bullets Book 7) Page 23