Last One Out
Page 4
“I can’t. I can’t, Clem.” His face burned with shame.
He lifted his hand, desperate for the one last touch he’d never gotten. Clem had been in the mercantile when the mist had drifted through the town, buying material for baby clothes. She’d been gone to him when he’d returned and he didn’t get to hold her once more, feel her touch once more.
Her hand snapped at his and he jerked back, almost tripping over the supplies in the center. Her face was once again slack, her eyes unfocused, her splintered teeth gnashing at him from over the banker’s shoulder.
Josiah sat on the cot, his heart pounding and aching all at once. She was still in there and he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her as long as she was there. He knew he was being selfish and even though it gnawed at him worse than they’d done to Clayton, he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.
But each time there was less of her than before. Each night her awareness shrank. When her name no longer brought her out, when he could no longer see the sparkle in her eyes, he’d leave. When the sun was high up and they were all in the church, he’d set it all on fire and leave town.
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If you liked this story and are interested in other works by the author:
Tale of the Music-Thief
Last Wave