The Arena - The Moon Trilogy - Book #2

Chapter thirty-four:

Clarity rushed forward as Johnny slumped to the ground. A dark stain was starting to spread on the back of his shirt, and a matching patch of blood was blooming out from a matching hole in his chest. He pressed his already bloody hands onto the wound, his face scrunching up in pain.

But she would be no use to him if she got shot as well, so she stopped in her tracks and spun on her heel.

To her surprise, she found herself face to face with August. He was holding the gun that still smoked after discharging the bullet that ripped through Johnny's chest. His black eyes were glazed over, and when he dropped the gun, his movements were mechanical—controlled. If he hadn't been the source of most of the mind-controlling, she would have thought he was under that same influence.

"You are foolish to think that you will get out of this alive." He said, his voice sounding strangely hollow. His face remained expressionless.

She was too shocked to do anything. Her feet were frozen.

No matter how much she wanted to fight the thought from pushing its way into her head, she couldn't help but accept that Johnny might die—mostly likely would, in fact—because of where the bullet hit him.

She let out a strangled cry, before charging at August. But her enraged run faltered before she'd even closed half the distance when her friend-turned-enemy suddenly seemed to wilt.

He crumpled to the floor like a piece of heavy fabric, folding under its own weight. She slowed and then stopped completely. What was going on? She didn't know if she should beat the crap out of him, or help him.

The knowledge that he wasn't doing any of this willingly finally won over. She would help him. Maybe she couldn't help Johnny at the moment, but she wasn't going to let August go without more of a fight.

She ran forward again and didn't stop until she reached his side. His eyes were wide and he twitched at random; sometimes his arm, sometimes his face, maybe even both.

She knelt down and gently lifted his head into her lap, trying to figure out what to do. How on earth was she supposed to help when she didn't even know what was wrong?

His sporadic twitching quite suddenly cut off, and his eyes locked onto hers. He stared hard for a few minutes, an intense, roiling cauldron of emotions brewing beneath the glassy, black surface.

"G-Goodbye, Clar-Clarity." He struggled to choke the words out before going limp. His shallow, ragged breathing continued, but the misty light had faded from his eyes.

She had the immediate, distinct feeling that she couldn't help him anymore... but maybe she could do something for Johnny if he was even still alive.

So she sprinted to him, completely ignoring the pounding in her head. There was no way he was dying now—she wasn't going to allow it. Not only was she adamantly refusing to lose another friend, but she had also just admitted to liking him. It would be a double blow; the exact last thing she wanted.

He was breathing raggedly, the blood that had seeped from his chest tinting the shallow water around him a sinister pink. Blood dripped down his chin, which meant he was either coughing it up or throwing it up—both options less than optimal.

She set her jaw and knelt down, blocking out the tears at the back of her eyes with all the emotional strength she had left.

The bullet hole assisted her as she tore his shirt away from the wound.

There was a gaping red hole in his chest. Not where his heart was, but close enough to do lethal damage.

He started choking in a pattern that sounded suspiciously language-like.