Danny
Danny’s knees trembled and knocked and wanted to buckle under him. He was covered in a warm spray of fresh blood from all the gunfire—Mr. and Mrs. Bennett’s, Carl’s, the deputy’s. He’d never liked the sight of blood, and now it seemed to cover every inch of him. He looked at the mess in front of him—folks he’d known for as long as he could remember. His brain wanted to shut down and make it all go away.
Then Mrs. Bennett let out a small cough on the sofa. Blood leaked from the hole in her shoulder. It seemed to be bleeding pretty bad, coming out in spurts. He didn’t know nothing about gunshot wounds, but at least she was still breathing. That had to be good.
He picked her up easily even though she weighed more than a hundred and fifty pounds. Her eyes flickered open for a second, stared up at Danny but didn’t really seem to be looking at him, then closed again. Her chest rose and fell slowly, something gurgling from inside her, but she was still alive. Danny walked up the steps to the second floor and laid her down on a bed in the big bedroom at the top of the stairs. The wallpaper had prints of purple flowers, and the bed was made up all nice and neat. Next to the bed, the nightstand had a vase sitting beside a Bible with a leather cover and a bookmark stuck in the middle of the pages.
Danny covered her up with a blanket and stared down at her. She looked older than usual. “I’ll be back with help, Mrs. Bennett. I promise. You’re gonna be okay.” His eyes fell on the open wound in her shoulder, and he could see ripped-up flesh and some white bone sticking out. He wondered if it hurt real bad. She coughed again. More gurgling.
“Be back as quick as I can, Mrs. Bennett.”
Danny plodded downstairs and took another look at all the killing. He had never seen so much blood. He walked toward the front door and had to step over Carl’s body—the entire back of his head missing. Even though Carl had always been mean to him, Danny felt bad for the man—Carl seemed to be sorry for what he had done to Mindy.
Danny stared at Carl’s rifle for a second. Then, without really thinking, he reached down and picked it up. The barrel still felt a little warm and was heavy in his thick hands.
Danny stepped out the door and closed it behind him.
The room was quiet, the grandfather clock finally silent after a hundred years. Then Sokowski shifted from under the pile of glass and wood.
