THE PRINCE'S QUEEN | J.MAYBANK

[19]

We all stood there in shock. Rafe was still clutching onto the gun, standing over Peterkin with a small smirk. That's when John B rushed forward. "Hey. Hey. Hold still. Hold still. It's okay. Where is it? Where is it? Oh, my -- I'm sorry," John B stumbled over his words as he yanked his bandana off. John B kept repeating his apologies as Sarah sobbed into my hug.

"Call! Call!" Peterkin breathed raspily. "Call for help."

"Dad!" Rafe warned, stepping forward once he saw John B pick up Peterkin's radio.

"Rafe, no! Rafe!" Ward yelled.

"Don't try it, asshole," Rafe whispered to John B.

"Rafe -- John B, give me the radio," Ward slowly bent down to John B's level.

"No."

"Come on. Give me the radio. Give me the damn radio," he slowly pulled the radio out of John B's hand. "Rafe, I've got it. Calm down. Rafe put the gun down. I got it."

"Run," Peterkin said.

"I'm not leaving you," John B insisted. Ward continued to calm down his son as Peterkin kept telling John B to run.

"I'm sorry," John B's voice cracked. He stood up and began stepping back towards Sarah and me.

"Where are you goin'? Huh?" Rafe snapped and put his gun back up.

"Run," Sarah and I whispered, and John B took off.

"Where you going, John B?" Rafe shouted.

"No! No!" Sarah yelled, and we tried to keep Rafe back. Ward pushed our heads down as Rafe fired the gun again.

"No! Please don't!" I yelled, trying to tackle Rafe with Sarah but Ward tried to break us up.

"Rafe, no! Wait! Rafe, please!" Ward screamed at his son, who was roaring in anger. Sarah and I ran over to Peterkin, who was groaning in pain.

"I'm sorry," Sarah whimpered, and we both put pressure on her wound.

"It's not your fault, sweetie," Peterkin wheezed.

"I'm so sorry," I sobbed.

"Dad, I was trying to --" Rafe began.

"Shut up!" Ward yelled. "Sa -- Sarah. Eleanor."

"What?" We grit our teeth through our crying.

"I need you girls to --"

"No!"

"I need you to get up."

"She is dying!" I screeched.

"Enough!"

"What is wrong with you?" Sarah cried.

"Take your sister home. Get her home," Ward told Rafe.

"What?"

"Get her home. Take her home."

"What about Eleanor?" Rafe called to his father, who began walking to the police car.

"Keep her with Sarah! She doesn't go home until all this is over!"

"We're not going until the medics come!" I fought.

"Get them home! I'm calling!"

"I'm not going," Sarah argued.

"You heard Dad," Rafe grabbed us with each arm and yanked us up.

"Get your hands off! No!" I yelled, and we tried to fight against Rafe, but he continued to drag us to the car.

"I'm on the radio! Sweetie, look! I'm calling! I'm calling now!" Ward tried to calm us down. He held down the buttons and started talking into it.