Will.
Across the bar, Christian resumed rambling about the Compound and his vision for it.
To Will’s right, Brydie smiled and pretended to listen to Christian.
David gave a half smile with his lips closed, the way he used to do as a lad. And somewhere in that small expression, Will got the distinct message that David was
dead….murdered….oh God, please not by Christian!
Will brought his unlit pipe to his mouth and bit down on the stem so hard he felt a tooth crack.
(So this was what it felt like to lose one’s mind. Who knew.)
“Don’t speak,” David said without speaking. “I know your thoughts, and you know mine. I’ve missed you, brother – but right now time is short.”
“Don’t,” Will silently pled at the word brother.
“Take the woman and boy, and leave here just as soon as you can break away from Christian. Don’t take time to pack, leave on foot if you have to. Or Christian will kill you – and Will, he won’t even know what he’s done.”
“But how will we get past those guards ?”
“Come on, Will. This place is not guarded. There are only four people alive here, you said so yourself. I’m showing all this to the boy right now….quickly, let me show you too.”
And it was indeed quick, what David let Will see. It was all very quick.
He saw Danny in the candy store with Brydie earlier, falling prey the same madness as Christian. Danny on the sidewalk now with the veil of madness torn away, exposed to the candy store’s true state. Danny assaulted by visions – the unmanned guard towers equipped with cobweb-covered AK-47s; the store mannequins in a grotesque circle of classroom chairs, frozen in a permanent town hall meeting.
The dry well outside the gates where Christian had used an old Bobcat loader to dispose of the Compound’s other occupants, including David .
For the first time in over a quarter century, a tear escaped out the corner of Will’s eye and rolled down his cheek, unnoticed.
He lunged over the bar and tackled Christian to the ground. Strangling him, pounding his head into the floor, vaguely aware of Danny at the door now, vaguely aware of Brydie shoving Danny back out to the sidewalk.
Christian reaching for his pocket. David’s warning, He’s got a gun.
___________________________________________________
Brydie.
Brydie heard two quick pops.
And then – silence. Awful, terrible silence.
With her heart pounding in her throat, she forced herself to the doorway and looked inside.
Will lay face down, Christian face up. Neither of their bodies moving with breath, blood spreading into a red lake around them.
Now it was Brydie who heard someone screaming, then realizing it was herself. Some cold, efficient part of her made a mental note to tell Danny sooner that Will O’Graidy had actually been his own father.
That cold part of her now observed the boy, Will’s own son, so very much like his father. He steeled his face and shed not one tear, walked to the bodies and pocketed both men’s handguns. Then he went to the bar and retrieved Will’s lighter, cap, and pipe. He regarded the cane for a moment, as if he might leave it there – the cane he had taken many a blow from. But then he picked it up and slung it over one elbow, its tip dragging the ground as he stepped back to Brydie and took her hand.
He led her still sobbing down the empty street and to the Compound’s metal gate.
And as he swung the gate open, he used Will’s lighter to set ablaze the tall dry grass behind them.
The Gyre. By Sharon Collins. 