Chapter 42: Revenge
“I’ve got you now!” D412 repeats with relish.
I put my wet cheek on Royce’s face, rough tears and harsh noises exploding out of me. “I told you to keep fighting. Why didn’t you do it?!” I snap at him.
“Stop that whimpering!” demands D412.
“How could you die like this?! How could you!”
“Stop babbling!”
“How do I finish what we started without you?”
“Stop!”
“You might as well ask me to stop breathing,” I hiss at D412.
“That can be arranged,” he snaps, waving his black revolver at me.
I push my face in Royce’s chest, muffling my cries.
“That’s better,” he states. “I don’t want to kill you while you’re like this. It seems wrong somehow.”
“Why do you want to kill me?” I ask when I finally get my voice back, numbness starting to take over.
My dad is dead because of you,” sneers D412, his own eyes spouting water.
I sit up. “What are you talking about?”
“That colonel that took you prisoner was my father.”
“I didn’t kill anybody!”
“He went to look for you to help me, and he ended up dead!”
"What are you talking about?" I repeat.
He bends down to pick up the lighter that had accidentally slipped from Royce's backpack when I had taken out the gauze cloth. "My father's specially made, gold lighter!" he mumbles.
With a jolt, I remember how Royce had picked up the psycho colonel's lighter after we had climbed down from the tree where we had almost fallen to our deaths.
"I knew it was you who killed my father!" he continues. "Now I have proof that you did it!"
“I had nothing to do with it.”
“The soldier with my dad said something about prisoners before he died. He was talking about you!”
“I had nothing to do with your father’s death,” I repeat.
“Stop lying!”
“I’m not.”
“Are you going to deny having been captured by my father?” he asks as he slips the lighter in his pocket.
“No, but I deny having killed him.”
“Stop trying to convince me of your innocence.”
“But—“
“Tell me something,” he snaps.
“What do you want to know?”
His eyes dig furiously into me. “How does it feel to have someone you love die, huh?”
“What do you want me to say?” I gag on my words.
“How does it feel?!” he repeats furiously.
“Like the whole world collapsed on you,” I mumble, my throat in a choke hold as I slowly run my hands over Royce’s hair.
“How do you think I felt when my dad died, huh?!” D412 hisses.
“I’m sorry about your father.”
“Who are you trying to kid?”
“I’m being sincere. I know what it’s like to lose your parents.”
“It’s your fault he’s dead!—you and this dead guy over here and . . . Hey, where’s the other guy?” he asks, furiously.
I have to untangle my brain to figure out that he’s talking about Peter. “He got hurt a long time ago.”
“I hope he’s dead,” retorts D412.
“Let’s just say that he’s no longer himself.”
“I hope he’s suffering.”
I exhale deeply, my head throbbing. “You’re very vengeful, aren’t you?”
“It’s about pride and honor,” he declares. “I’ll go all out to clear the family name—just like my dad did when he went after you. I bet you’re the one who hit me from the back while hiding somewhere.”
“How did you find us, anyway?” I ask with curiosity.
“When my father passed away,” he says, wincing, “I just knew his soldier was talking about you before he died too. I had to scrape together the bits and pieces. You were obviously escaping from something, and the military was about to hit the woods big time. You had to find a way out, so I called around to see which trucks nearby were leaving. I followed a semi to see if you were in it. When I saw the driver talking to someone in the truck through the ventilation holes at a checkpoint, I knew I had hit a jackpot.”
“You were following us?”
“It was easy. It was dark, and one guardian vehicle looks like all the rest, so your driver never noticed me.”
An idea suddenly dawns on me. “It was your tire blowout!”
He frowns deeply. “Life surprises you sometimes. I almost got killed!”
“But the paramedics took you to the hospital. I saw it with my own two eyes. You were unconscious.”
“It was just a concussion.”
“They released you fast.”
“I released myself,” he states. “I borrowed a guardian vehicle to get here. It wasn’t hard guessing that you’d be in this old house.”
“You’ve gone through a lot of trouble—even stealing a vehicle.”
“My father’s death keeps me going,” he snaps.
“I didn’t kill him.”
“Let’s not start with that again.”
“You should stop blaming others for what happened to your dad,” I argue.
“I should just shoot you and be done with it!”
“Á tornado killed your father—not me.”
“You’ll be joining your boyfriend now,” he growls, his revolver staring at me. “I’ll be nice and let you say your goodbyes to life—maybe say a prayer.”
“I guess you don’t want the million dollars.”
“What?!” he spouts.
“Don’t you want the million?”
“A million dollars?” he chokes out.
“Yes, a million.”
“What do you mean?” he asks suspiciously. “This better not be a stalling tactic.”
“My name’s Madrigal X1147—does that ring a bell?” It was strange saying the name I’ve kept hidden for so long.
“You’re Madrigal X1147?” he asks, surprised.
“That’s me.”
He eyes me suspiciously. “I don’t believe you.”
“Your father knew it, and he was taking me in to get the reward when the tornado hit.”
“His soldier mentioned something about a reward.”
“That’s right.”
“A million dollars,” D412 mumbles under his breath.
“That’s a lot of money.”
“How do I know you’re telling me the truth about who you are?” he snaps.
I pull my hair back. “Look closely at me.”
“You do kinda look like her,” he mumbles, eyeing me carefully.
“Your father had a good eye.”
“So do I,” he blurts angrily.
“If you’d rather kill me than be rich then—”
“Get up!” he demands. “Get up off the floor!”
My trembling mouth goes to Royce’s lips. As my kiss touches him, I push my sobs inside. His motionless face is as heartbreakingly beautiful as ever. Stumbling to my feet, I try to find my equilibrium. It would be so easy to collapse.
“Walk!” D412 orders me, motioning me to the entrance with one hand and pointing the revolver at me with the other.
“Where are we going?” I ask nervously.
“I’m turning you in—finishing the job my dad started.”
“But Royce—”
“He’s dead. Stop worrying about him and worry about yourself—keep walking.”
“I can’t leave—”
“Walk or die,” he demands menacingly.
I don’t have a choice. As soon as we step out of the dilapidated house, the fresh air of the evening in the desert assails me. Sunset is happening, darkness and neon oranges at the same time. Everything seems still around us. The accident was cleared hours ago and traffic is nonexistent at this hour. D412’s guardian vehicle is parked close to where the semi-truck had
been after the accident.
A deep sob bursts out of my throat. “We can’t leave Royce—”
“Shut up and keep walking.”
The emotion assaults me with full force and before I know it, I’ve stumbled to the ground.
“Get up!” he retorts as he walks to the front of me. “I’m not helping you up! You’d better stand on your own!”
I nod solemnly, blinking back tears and hyperventilating. As I start to get on my feet, I stumble back down when I see what’s in front of me—behind D412. My mouth swings wide open, and my eyes grow twice their size.
“What?!” he snaps, turning to look. His pistol moves with him.
My fingers are already on my slingshot. Without hesitation, I jerk it out.
“What is it?” he asks, still trying to decipher the crisis I had pretended was behind him. “I don’t see anything.”
The rock slams into him on the side of his head as he’s turning back to face me. He crumbles to the ground, dropping his revolver. After returning my slingshot to my pocket, I quickly grab the gun, empty the bullets—putting them in my pocket for disposal later—and take a deep breath.
“Good job, Madrigal,” a voice says behind me.
When I turn around, three guardians are carefully eyeing the fallen soldier and me.
Supernova Page 40