More gunshots in every direction, boom boom boom. Can't see, staggering toward safety. Cries of pain and thuds of falling bodies. Knees crashing into the car two houses over. A shotgun blast missing me by inches and spraying the windshield, sending glass shrapnel into the air. Throwing my body over the hood and landing with a hard thud against the concrete. I blink furiously, willing my eyes to adjust as I get to one knee. I bring my Glock to bear, feeding off the adrenaline flowing through my body. Muzzle flashes around the truck act as targets. I pull the trigger, aiming for those closest. One goes down, by myself or someone else I can't tell. I continue a steady volley of shots even though my accuracy suffers from the spots dancing across my vision. Someone falls backward out the truck bed—another enemy down.
"Everyone in the truck! Let's get the hell out of here!" The sneering man lives. Bodies fly into the cab and hurtle themselves into the bed. Someone pushes on the accelerator and they shoot off into the night. Bloodlust screams at me to continue shooting, but rationality reminds me we can't afford to waste bullets on pot shots. Rationality wins.
"Morgan!" Lauren’s voice shouts from the driveway three houses over. She sounds on the verge of hysterics.
"I'm fine, stay there!" I yell before anyone makes a move toward me. There are still shooters out there. I may be alive because of their interference, but that doesn't mean I can trust them. Silence, the roar of the truck fading with each passing second.
"Oh Captain, my Captain! Tell me that's you and I'm not seeing things!" shouts a voice from up the street: a voice I'd know anywhere.
"Vince?" I yell back. Laughter, loud and unrestricted—the kind when happiness first blossoms from deep within. "Aye, aye cuz!” comes his reply. I'm out from behind the car and moving quick as I can his way. The rest of group emerges from behind the SUV and joins me as three figures jog toward us.
"Vince!" Emily yells and breaks into a run, wrapping him in a hug immediately.
"It's good to see you too Em," he says as he lifts her off her feet and sets her back down.
"What, no love for me?" asks another familiar voice.
"Jerry!" she says and jumps into his arms like a child, his massive frame dwarfing her and adding to the believability.
"Holy shit dude, you saved my ass back there!" I tell Vince as I wrap my arms around him.
"What else is new, cuz?" he asks stepping back. He scans the rest of us. "Still keeping your two cabin boys close, I see." Both Felix and Leon give him shit right back, but I can tell they're glad to see him. "How the hell did you get here?" Vince asks. "I thought you were in Denver?"
"Enough chit-chat." Says a gruff voice before I can answer. "Save it for when we get back to the house." Vince seems to sober up a bit, and so do I. Now's definitely not the right place for so much talking.
"Right, thanks Dick," he replies. Now I recognize the third man: Vince and Jerry's uncle Richard, on his dad's side.
"Let’s strip the bodies and high tail it. They could come back," Richard continues, ignoring Vince.
"I need to grab my bag," I say only just remembering it. I am halfway to the driveway when Maya steps out from behind the SUV, my bag and AR in hand. "Figured you might want these," she says, extending them with a smile.
"Yeah, might be useful," I say, squeezing Maya close in a side-armed hug. "Thanks for looking out."
"You're always looking out for me," she replies. She looks back to where Emily and Jerry laugh next to Lauren and Grace—Vince, Richard, Leon, and Felix checking the several bodies on the street and neighboring lawns. "I can't believe this is really—MORGAN DOWN!" she screeches in my ear.
Before I can move, before I can so much as gape blankly, she pushes me to the side with a strength I didn't know she had, catching me off guard and sending me sprawling to the ground. A split second later a gunshot raps the air, shattering the stillness that has settled. Boom boom boom, three more shots ring out in the darkness. I roll to a stop and look around. Richard advances, pistol raised toward a slumped figure I had previously believed a corpse.
"MAYA!" The panic behind Emily's scream shakes me to my core. I whip my head around in search of Maya. I find her on her back, hands clutching her stomach and whimpers of pain escaping her mouth, flooding my own body in panic. No, no, no! She's alright. She has to be alright.
I'm the third to her side: Emily and Felix just beating me there. I hover a foot back, beside Emily, her hand squeezing mine like a vice as Felix goes into his zone. I feel like I'm lost in a dream, a nightmare. The scene plays out in fragmented pieces: scraps of frantic words; Felix's hands covered in warm blood; a gaping hole in Maya's stomach; Leon pressing a clean shirt onto the wound; Maya screaming in pain; Felix cinching the shirt tight with her own belt. I take it all in as if I'm apart from it—as if the bullet struck me down and I only watch on now through death's dark veil.
"We need to move!" Felix says. "I can't do anything else in the street." His words uproot me from my stupor. I drop to a knee and cradle Maya in my arms. I won't let anyone else carry her.
"Then let's go!" I yell.
We run. I try to be gentle, but I know every stride I take is agony on Maya. Sweat soaks her pale face as blood soaks through her shirt and onto me. Low whimpers escape her, the sound tearing me to shreds. Her grip once strong and firm, nails clawing into the skin around my neck, has steadily slackened as the coppery stink of blood grows more pungent.
Vince, Felix, Emily, and I have moved ahead of the pack, each of us sprinting with all we have. The houses fly past me in a blur, my vision narrowed on Vince as he leads the way. We pass into Rockridge. My chest aches, lungs straining for oxygen, heart beating like hummingbird wings. Still I don't stop, unwilling to slow down for even a second, not when each second can mean the difference between life and death. I read once a race horse won't stop. It will run and run and run, as hard and long as the rider pushes it, until the strain is too great and its heart fails. I know the feeling, because I won't stop unless we make it or my heart fails me.
We reach a fork in the road and veer right onto Tanglewood Dr. "Hang in their Maya!" I plead through panting breaths. "We're almost there." Halfway up the long lane, we turn right into my uncle's driveway.
I see a flicker of movement from the 2nd floor windows, but I pay them no mind. Vince throws the door open and steps to the side as I rush in. The large living room is mostly dark, the only light coming from a low-lit lantern suspended from the ceiling fan. Still, there’s enough light for me to make out the faces I've yearned to see for so long. My mother and father stand out in particular, the confusion and fear lifting at the sight of myself and Emily, and then falling again when they see what I carry in my arms.
"Morgan!"
“Emily!”
"Oh, my God!"
"What the hell is going on?"
Questions explode from every direction of the room, so rapid and loud I can't make heads or tail of any of it. Vince and Felix pass me into the room and I move after them, ignoring the outcry of voices. Through a swinging door, the four of us enter the spacious kitchen.
"Lay her on the table!" Felix says as he and Vince frantically clear it away. I set her down carefully as Felix continues to yell out instructions. "I need light, boiling water, bandages. Morgan, grab the suture kit from my bag." I tear through his bag in search of the kit. I grab and open it on the table next to him as he douses his hands in vodka. Emily lights a propane lantern and hangs it on a hook high above the table. Maya’s pale face is contorted in pain, wet with sweat and tears. Felix unfastens the belt and removes the blood-soaked t-shirt gingerly.
"Shit," he breathes, barely more than a whisper.
In the light, the wound is so much worse. Bits of organ are visible inside the dark and angry hole. Blood coats her entire stomach, and still more trickles out in time with her falling heartbeat. A strangled sob escapes Felix as he takes it all in. When he looks at me, his eyes tell me all I need to know: this isn't something he can fix. Still, I have to ask.
Tears fall from his eyes as he shakes his head. "The bullet hit her liver. I can’t operate on that...I'll only cause her more pain if I try." An anguished sob escapes Emily and I close my eyes as the news sinks in. Maya: my kind and loyal friend, who wished for nothing more than to build a new life beside her family, will never have the chance to do so.
"It's ok, guys." Her words come out hollow and sad, as if she already crosses over to the other side. I suppose she is. Vince excuses himself, allowing us some privacy while we say goodbye. Emily holds her best friend’s hand and brushes the hair from her face. I have to look away then, too overcome with the reality of it all. They say goodbye in low voices I barely hear over the sound of my own crying. Emily kisses her once on the forehead before standing, allowing Felix and I the chance to speak with her. I nod to Felix. I’m not ready. He holds her hand and apologizes for not being able to save her, while she scolds him and tells him not to be an idiot—that some things can’t be helped.
All too soon I’m by her side, tears falling from my eyes as I take her hand in mine. “It’s ok, Morgan,” she breathes. I squeeze my eyes shut at her words, wringing out more tears. I kiss the inside of her wrist. "How can this be ok?" I ask.
"We weren't all meant to live."
"You could have," I argue, choking on the words. An irrational sense of anger at her for saving my life overcomes me in that moment. It passes as soon as it comes. "Why didn't you save yourself?"
Through all the pain and suffering she must feel, through all the final hour thoughts that must dance inside her head, emerges a smile so beautiful and sad it takes my breath away. And looking into her eyes—still so bright and alive even as the rest of her fades—I know I will remember this moment for the rest of my life: a life I'll have because of her.
"We're family, Morgan. Family always has each other's back." Her words echo back to me from my own mouth, and it tears apart what little self-restraint I had. I can't speak. Heaving sobs course through me as I fall apart beside her. "I'm sorry." I choke. "I'm so, so sorry."
"I'm not," she breathes, fresh tears falling from her eyes. "I'd have been gone...the first day...if not for you." Her breaths are shallow, her voice faint and sporadic, yet I hear her next words clear and strong. "You gave me a family when I needed it most...I'll always love you for that."
I brush the hair away from her face with a shaking hand and lean down, kissing the top of her forehead. "I love you too, Maya. Always."
"Always," she echoes, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "It doesn't hurt anymore." For that I'm grateful, even as it tears a hole in my heart I know can never be mended. Her eyes close. A final breath escapes her. And I know she's left this world of pain behind to place it cannot reach her.
Chapter 28
Blood, long since dried still covers me. My hands, my chest, my face. I make no move wash it away, wearing it as a badge of honor. The shovel plows again and again into the earth. Longer, wider, deeper, the hole grows—as too grows my grief.
"I can't believe we actually made it...do you really think we can start over?"
"I do. And we will."
I pick up my frenetic pace, digging up the earth with a violent rage, trying to block it all out. Still, it comes.
"Always so confident."
"Faith, Maya. Trust me, we'll build something out of this."
"I trust you, Morgan. Always."
I can't see for shit. I squint through wet and swollen eyes, the low lantern hardly enough to lighten the shadows. I dig in a blind fury, but I can't escape the thoughts eating away at my mind. This is all your fault. Why weren't you more careful? Her death is on your hands! I throw the shovel away into the darkness and hear it crash somewhere out of sight. If only I could throw away the pain so easily. I sink down into the hole, my legs no longer able to support the weight of my guilt. I cry, disgusted with myself: for not protecting her, for letting her die when it should have been me, for being so weak when I need to be strong.
This is so far from how it should have been. Watching Maya die was like a knife in the gut. Seeing Emily come unraveled at the sight of her best friend was the twist which made it that more painful. I couldn't stand it, being inside the house surrounded by so many people. I don't know which was worse: the mourning of those who loved her, or the sympathy of those who will never know the beautiful soul who was lost before their eyes.
"I'm so sorry."
"Terrible. She was such a sweet girl."
I barely heard my parent’s condolences, could only just feel their arms around me, numb in my grief. Introducing Lauren and Grace was something I had pictured a hundred times: wide smiles and joyous laughter, my mother welcoming them with grand hugs, my father cracking a joke and putting everyone at ease. Instead, it was quiet and depressing. After a couple minutes’ uneasiness, everyone at a loss of what to say or what to do, I had had enough. I needed to get out of there. I hadn't planned on digging, but I found my feet carrying me to my uncle's shed and my hand reaching for the shovel. I've lost track of time out here. Not that it matters. An hour, a day, however long or short it's been doesn't change the fact my friend is dead, and I'm alive.
I'm so lost inside my own head, I don't register I'm no longer alone until they're at the edge of the grave. They both sit at the lip, feet dangling over the side. They don't speak for a long time, and I have nothing to say to break the silence.
"You know this doesn't have to be done tonight," Felix says.
"Yes, it does," I reply, my voice hoarse. "I can't wake up tomorrow and find her body just lying there...I won't be able to face it. It has to be tonight." They both hang their heads at my words, their eyes staring into the crude hole that will be our friend's final resting place. She deserved so much more than this—so much more than we could ever give her. After a minute or so, Leon looks up and finds my face. "Then we better get to work," he says.
The grave takes shape with their help. We work in silence, the uneven shovelfuls of dirt and labored breathes, the only sounds to keep us company. I keep a steady rhythm, abandoning my manic pace from earlier. It didn't do me any good in the first place. The guilt is still inside me, the voices in my head still whispering, but so quietly I can almost pretend I do not to hear them. When the grave is up to my chest and long enough to accommodate my wing span, we stop. We haul ourselves out, and brush the dirt off the best we can before returning to the house. The place is quiet as we enter, most everyone asleep. Lauren, Emily, and Grace are still awake, as are mine and Leon's parents. They sit in the living room, speaking to one another in hushed voices. The talking ceases when they see us.
I struggle to meet their eyes. I can barely manage my own pain. Seeing it reflected in their glassy stares and tear streaked faces only makes it worse. I look through the open door and into the kitchen. Somebody, Lauren and Emily most likely, have wrapped Maya's body in a thick white sheet. I'm thankful for it. I don't know that I could have seen her broken body without losing it all over again. I force myself to look away and address my family.
"It's time."
As if under a spell they rise to their feet, and together we drift out the door and into the yard, Maya's body once more cradled in my arms. Across the expanse of weather beaten grass, at the far corner of the property, stands a massive Beech tree—a silent sentinel over the house and yard. Already coppery leaves litter the ground, the old giant prepping for another season of cold and snow. But in the spring, after the snow has melted and the ground has thawed, when the sun sits higher and longer in the sky, the leaves will return—blushing in swathes of greens and purples, dancing in the breeze and warmth—rejuvenated after its long hibernation. I think Maya would have appreciated the beauty of it: that she would have been at peace in a place such as this. At the very least I know she would have appreciated the fact I want such a place for her: she would have been at peace with that.
Leon and Felix hop into the grave as we reach it,
waiting to lay Maya's body down one last time. I squeeze my eyes shut against the pain: of loss, of survival, of having to say goodbye to someone as kind and strong as she was. I hold her tight against my chest and bring my mouth close to her ear beneath the sheet.
"Thank you, Maya...I'll do my best to make you proud," I whisper before lowering her down to Leon and Felix. The two lay her down gently and hoist themselves up to join us.
The wind picks up around us, sharp, edged with an autumn chill. With each minute the darkness seems to lessen, the inky blackness of the sky slowly turning to the shadowy blue preceding sunrise. Soon the eastern skyline will come ablaze, marking the beginning of a new day: the first without my friend. The realization doesn't so much add to my grief, as it does carve away at me—hollowing me out from the inside, just as the world seems more hollow without her in it. Nobody speaks for the longest time. Perhaps they too feel the hollowness inside them, a feeling that cannot be filled by words, only time. And even then, not completely.
"You know, it was a total accident how Maya and I met," Emily says, drawing our gaze like a magnet. She stands across the grave from me, head resting against Leon's chest as she looks upon her fallen friend. "I got turned around moving into the dorms first day on campus. Accidently moved into the wrong hall by mistake. Maya showed up about an hour after I set up, weighed down with three bags, and wheeling this huge suitcase behind her. Soon as she crossed through the door she collapsed onto the empty bed, out of breath. After about a minute she sat up, glanced at her bags and then looked at me, her eyes round and pleading. 'I'll let you borrow my clothes whenever you want if you help me unpack'."
Echoes of a Dying World (Book 1) Page 31