After Grace

25. Powerless

The blond boy screamed as Seth pressed down on his stomach, hands painted red with his friend's blood. I watched the scene from the safety of abandoned frozen-yogurt bars and furniture stores as I made my way to the condominiums in the east. I studied each window until I saw a dark shape on the fourth floor. I couldn't be sure that it was the sniper but I had nothing else to go on.

"Pick 'im up," the man ordered, pointing to the bleeding Leonard. "Bring 'im back here."

"What're you gonna do with him?" Travis asked.

"You want me to spoil it for you? Pick 'im up, let's go."

I heard Leonard scream as they lifted him. I ran from the clothing store I was in and snuck around to the side of the brick building overlooking the street. I pulled the metal door leading to the staircase and climbed. My shoes clicked against the floor like alarms. I pulled them off, leaving the pair against the wall and continued barefoot up the stairs until I reached the fourth floor.

I put my eyes to the glass window in the stairwell door. Sunlight skewered the dark hallway just enough to see there was no one there. I opened the door inch by inch until I was inside. As my feet landed on the rug, cold water spilled up as if from a sponge. The ceiling above was cracked and black with water stains. I aimed the rifle in front of me and moved to the only open door in the hall.

The apartment was empty. I moved to the window where the sniper had been sitting, I could see the blood stain in the street below, but nothing else. The floor creaked behind me.

"Drop it," he said before cocking the gun. He had me. I put my rifle on the floor and turned. He was smiling, like he couldn't believe what he had just done. "I got you," he laughed. He moved the rifle in his hands just enough for me to see his face. It was Oliver, my first and only kiss.

"You're one of them?" I asked.

"If things had gone differently, you'd have joined too. Where're the others? Where's Marcus?" he asked. I stayed quiet. "Move over there," he said pointing the gun to the wall. I complied. He picked up my rifle and threw it out the window. He pulled a handgun from his belt and put the sniper rifle in his hands down as he came toward me, using only the handgun. "Hands over your head," he said. As soon as I raised them, he ran his palms over my waist looking for another weapon, when he was satisfied I had none, he took a step back and smiled again.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Just strange how things work out." I didn't say anything. "I've always wanted to be with you and now, here we are," he stepped closer until the barrel of his gun was pushing against the bruised stitches in my stomach. "Remember our kiss?"

"Mother considers me a sister. She'll kill you if you hurt me."

"I'm not supposed to kill you..." he said and put his lips to my ear. "Wasn't planning on it."

I thought of all the things I could do to push him off, to escape, but the gun was paralyzing. At any second he could squeeze the trigger. My fingers went cold. My throat dried up. "Aren't you supposed to be covering your friend?" I said as he pushed himself closer to me. His smile faded. He stepped back again when he realize I was right.

"Go," he ordered as he picked up his sniper rifle. I was marched onto the hallway and made to walk straight down to another apartment on the opposite side where there was another window open. As I moved closer I saw that there were two men and one woman sitting around a fire in the street below, all from Mother's camp. Travis, Leonard, and Seth had been led into the circle and made to kneel. By my count, there were five of them altogether, including Oliver. "Stop," he said. I froze.

I jumped when I heard the bang of the rifle being dropped to the wooden floor. His pistol pushed up against my spine while he reached his free hand around my stomach and put his fingers on my scar.

"Don't," I begged. He laughed.

"Turn around, let me see it," he said. I prayed for something or someone to intervene. The silence in the room pushed against my ears like hands trying to crush my skull. I lifted my shirt, only enough to show the stitches.

"Impressive. Most of us thought you died and we just hadn't found your body yet."

"Not dead yet," I told him.

"Good for me."

He came at me again, this time I knew there was no clever ploy I could use to delay his advances. I kept my shirt up as an invitation, he reached out to touch me again-I threw both hands over his pistol and pushed down, trying to aim the gun away as I scrambled to think of a next move. With his free hand, he made a fist and punched me in the back-I ran forward, pushing myself against him, still holding the top of the gun in my hands. We collided against a rotting book shelf by the window. He used his elbow to hit my back, every blow pushed more air from my lungs.

I pulled back on the gun, bending his wrist with it. He yelled in agony as bone snapped. I used the few seconds I had while he was incapacitated to pull the gun from his grip. I lifted it and squeezed the trigger but nothing happened. The pistol jammed.

He smiled, still holding his broken wrist. Everything disappeared. I was no longer afraid. I dropped the gun and shoved myself against him, using both hands to push him out the open window. A second of shocked silence was followed by a thunderous crash as his body destroyed what was left of the pickup truck below.

The Vesp sitting around the fire shot like rockets to their feet. I picked up the sniper rifle on the floor and dropped to one knee, aiming the rifle out the window and opened fire.

They scattered, but not fast enough. From here, I could pick them off one by one, and I did. I hit the first man on the side as he tried to find cover. The second man remained in his place, only lifting his handgun and firing at the window. I put the crosshairs over his face as his bullets dug into the brick wall beside me-I shot him in the eye.

The man who had taken Travis and the others hostage grabbed the wounded Leonard in his arms as a shield. Looking through the sniper's scope, I could see that the boy was limp, the bullet wound in his gut no longer hurt him. He was dead. I shot through the boy's neck-they fell together atop the fire. I tried to find the woman but she had gotten away. As I pulled my eyes from the gun, I heard the rat-tat-tat of her motorcycle speeding off.

Seth pulled his friend from the fire, crumbling into tears when he saw Leonard was dead. The scene in front of me seemed false, like a painting. Bodies populated the abandoned road, blood rolled like skinny crimson rivers along the ashen pavement. The rifle in my hands still vibrated with the aftershock of quick violence.

I brushed the wet saliva Oliver had left on my ear but still felt it there when it was dry. I dropped the gun and tried to stand from my kneeling position. My legs felt like noodles beneath me. Without support, I fell to the floor. I reached out for the book-shelf and tried to pull myself up. "Stop it," I whispered. But I couldn't stand up.

My hands trembled beneath me. My arms grew so weak I could no longer use them. I slowly lowered myself down to the floor, helpless and shivering.