Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“What about Red?” Cole asks, nodding toward the bound figure that once was his friend.
An uncomfortable silence falls over the group. What remains unspoken hangs in the air between us—there’s no taking Red with us, and there’s no leaving him behind like this, either.
“We can’t bring him,” I finally say, meeting Cole’s eyes. “And we can’t leave him here like this.”
Cole stares at me, understanding dawning in his eyes. “You want to put him down? Like a rabid dog?”
“That’s not Red anymore,” Jensen says quietly, moving to stand beside me. His steady presence gives me a little strength. “You know that, Cole. Whatever made him your friend is gone.”
Eli turns away, unable to look at what Red has become. “Maybe there’s a cure,” he suggests, though his tone makes it clear he doesn’t believe it. “In the movies there’s always a cure,” he adds wistfully.
“There’s no cure,” Jensen says bluntly. “We all know what needs to be done.”
“So do it, then,” Cole snarls, grief and anger warring in his expression. “Murder him in cold blood. If you’re so fucking sure.”
Jensen reaches for his gun—my gun—but I place my hand on his arm, stopping him.
“No,” I say. “I’ll do it.”
Everyone looks to me in surprise. Even Red raises his snarling face.
“You don’t have to,” Jensen says, his voice low as he shakes his head. “This isn’t on you.”
“I’m FBI,” I remind him, the admission still raw between us. “I’ve been trained for this. And…” I swallow hard, forcing myself to continue. “And I need all of you to trust me if we’re going to get out of here alive. So I’ll do it. Take one for the team. So you don’t have to.”
I don’t bother mentioning that I’ve never killed someone before. I feel that wouldn’t help the situation.
Jensen studies me for a long moment, then gives a short nod, a flicker of appreciation in his gaze. “Okay.”
He hands my gun back to me and I think he understands that I’m not giving it back after this after I kill Red.
If I kill Red. I’m going to pull the trigger.
But does that mean he’ll stay dead?
Red’s blue eyes find mine as I approach, my gun feeling heavy in my hand. For a split second, I think I see recognition there—a flicker of the man he once was, trapped inside the literal monster he’s become. Then, like a candle being snuffed, it’s gone.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though I know he can’t understand why I have to do this. I don’t know if he understands anything at all.
I look over at the others and meet Jensen’s eyes. His mouth is clenched shut and he gives me a small nod.
Do it.
Everyone covers their ears and I take in a deep breath and ask the universe for forgiveness. I think about my father. I think about my colleagues and the tough choices they’ve faced, the lives they’ve taken. I think about how damn lucky I’ve been that I’ve never been in this situation before.
And if I don’t do something, there’s a chance that luck will run out.
I aim for the center of his forehead and my finger tightens on the trigger. The shot echoes across inside the cabin, causing the horses outside to whinny. Before he can slump, I take another shot at his heart for good measure.
Red’s body goes limp against the ropes, the unnatural light in his eyes finally extinguished. I stare at him for a few moments just to make sure. We all do.
He’s dead.
Cole turns away, shoulders rigid, making the sign of the cross over his chest. Eli murmurs something that might be a prayer. Jensen says nothing, but his hand finds my shoulder, a brief squeeze of understanding before he moves to help the others prepare for our departure.
We gather supplies, checking weapons, preparing what food remains for the journey. The practicalities of our escape occupy the next hour, all of us grateful for tasks that keep our minds from what just happened.
That is, until we have to move Red. We can’t leave him tied up in a backcountry hut that’s frequented by hikers. It could only be a matter of days before someone discovers him and this would be one big crime scene.
So we move Red outside. The morning is clear and cold, sunlight glinting off fresh snow. No sign of Hank or any other hungry ones, though the tracks around the hut tell a disturbing story—multiple sets of footprints circling the building throughout the night, some human-shaped, others distorted, as if the feet making them were no longer entirely human.
Jensen drags Red past the cabin and into the trees, ready to bury him in the snow, since the ground is too frozen to dig a grave. With any luck, predators and carrion will make quick work of him before he’s discovered.