The Border Reiver (28 page)

Beastons face hardened; Nat’s eyes narrowed and his clenched teeth shone below his matted whiskers. The troops behind Beaston pricked at the flashpoint of unspoken energy.

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Amber came upon the craggy knoll and she was sprinting as she rounded the outcrop. That was when her father came into view. Her heart rolled over as she saw him leaning against the rock visibly wounded and about ten feet from another man. They were like gunslingers at noon. She dropped to her belly and aimed her weapon; momentarily she registered the NSO troops in the trees behind, so she waited for the others to arrive.

As she paused for no more than a second, her brain unravelled the situation. Her mouth opened to scream and her finger squeezed the trigger as Nat Bell moved like lightning; drawing a handgun from his belt, he fired once, hitting Beaston in the head. The General screamed an involuntary wail and fell to the floor.

Nat stood, his gun outstretched, as all hell broke loose from the trees, the rounds pumped into his body for what seemed like an eternity. Amber watched as his body convulsed, absorbing round after round. The stone behind him splintered as the bullets ricocheted off it. His blood misted the air in front of him, and he fell sideways into the bracken that covered the woodland floor, his blood flowing free into the land.

Amber watched the horror of her father’s death. The reality felt like a dream in that desperate, visceral moment. She screamed a banshee’s wail as she fired indiscriminately into the trees. She got to her feet and began to charge down to where her father lay, but a huge arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back to safety leaving the other rebels to fight the regime troops.

As her brain registered the horror she had witnessed, something dark was spreading through her veins. The young woman kicked and thrashed and smashed the butt of her weapon into Stuart’s face. As she screamed and wailed, cried and spat, a heavy mist was descending in her soul. Suddenly, she stopped thrashing and her mind became lucid: hatred blackened her heart and life became death in the name of vengeance.

As the rebels overwhelmed the regime soldiers, the pair stood in the leafy clearing. The rain beat down upon them, upon Nat's forlorn body lying in the scrub. Amber stood, calmly contemplating the misery. Stuart watched her face harden, her eyes steel and her soul retreat from the comfort of his support to stand alone in the face of her enemy. The big man's heart sank and tears came to his eyes as the cycle of tragedy began its second revolution.

The End