Yield (55 page)

The teenager tests the gun
’
s dense weight before tucking it into the back of his jeans. He pulls his navy West Seattle High sweatshirt down to conceal it.

“
The rest of you should probably pack something more punchy, too,
”
Devin yells behind him. He glances around for the last two of their group.
“
Abd? Isabel?
”

Devin scans the dark store, his eyes growing worried at the silence.
“
You seen them?
”

Chris shakes his head.
“
Izz!
”
he booms.

“
Back here,
”
a soft voice reverberates from somewhere behind them.
“
Won
’
t get far on candy and Coke,
”
the pregnant flight attendant says. Isabel walks back up the aisles with a new purple Huskies bag bursting at the seams.
“
Healthy me. I went for the energy bars and sport drinks. There
’
s some water in here, too.
”

“
Nice,
”
Devin says.
“
Is Abd with you?
”

“
No, I thought he was with you guys.
”
Isabel glances around.
“
Abd?
”
she calls. Her eyes stop cold.
“
Devin,
”
she whispers. The breath hisses out of her.

A jagged red line stretches from the entryway into the store. Death
’
s color traces across shards of broken glass on the linoleum floor
,
and turns the corner past a metal aisle display fifteen feet in front of them.

“
Hold on,
”
Devin whispers. He cocks the shotgun and begins cautiously toward the metal
case
. His shoes crackle on fragments of glass scattered all along the ground. Ten feet. Five.

The fireman spins past the corner, his gun barrel raised.

Abd sits all alone in the deep shadows of another display rack. The rise and fall of his chest seem
s
more relaxed than normal.

“
Needing a breather, bloke?
”
Devin asks.
“
Or did you just decide to nod off on us?
”
He crouches down next to the abnormally quiet man, his charm trying to mask the concern.

Devin sees the Arab
’
s answer spreading across the tile floor.

“
Just resting. I was cold,
”
Abd mutters. His pitch-black eyes glimmer as he looks up into the face of the fireman.
“
But not anymore.
”

“
Let me see what we got here, alright?
”
Devin asks.

Abd looks down at the fireman
’
s hands on his shoulders. The traces of a smile spread across his face.
“
I
’
m not much for hugs.
”

“
No offense,
”
Devin winks,
“
but you
’
re not exactly my type either.
”
The fireman tips Abd
’
s chest gently toward him and glances down. The left side of the Arab
’
s aquamarine jersey is soaked completely through and dripping onto the floor.
“
Bloody hell, man. Why didn
’
t you say anything?
”

“
Would you have cared?
”
Abd asks. The truth on his paling face slams into Devin like a jackhammer.

The fireman
’
s eyes dart around the shelves closest to them, then back to Isabel.
“
Find some bandages or an athletic wrap to slow the bleeding.
”

“
Is he alright?
”
she asks.

“
Now, Izz!
”

There
’
s a solemnity in Devin
’
s green eyes that makes her heart drop. She rushes off without another word into the store.

“
Chris! Watch the door,
”
he yells.
“
You see anyone popping their little head in, you be sure to give them a pop right back.
”
The fireman kneels and puts his hand to the Arab
’
s damp back. It pulses ominously through his fingers as he tries to apply pressure. Abd
’
s eyes look different in the latern
’
s dim light. There
’
s an odd sparkle
at
the edges
—
a flickering of understanding just below their dark surface.
“
We
’
re gonna get you all patched up, mate.
”

“
I
’
m not a child, Devin.
”
Abd smiles at the man
’
s forced confidence.
“
I know what comes next.
”
The Arab looks up proudly into Devin
’
s face.
“
It
’
s okay. I
’
ve served my God
’
s purpose.
”

“
Your Allah
’
d be a might proud of you back there,
”
Devin smiles.
“
Not the brightest chap. But you
’
ve got some bollocks on you for sure.
”

Devin
’
s smile fades. The sparkle is dimming in Abd
’
s eyes.
“
Hurry, Isabel!
”

He hears the crash and scattering of her futility across the floor.

“
Be responsible for them,
”
Abd whispers. He takes Devin
’
s hand, gripping it tighter than the fireman ever thought he could. Abd
’
s blurred eyes focus on Devin
’
s. An intense love spreads throughout his body, warming him with a deep purity he
’
s never known before.
“
Saving life is not enough. You must protect it
…
”
The Arab
’
s eyes soften. A dark gray haze dances across, wrapping them in certainty and an unrelenting calm.
“
Protect it
……
.
”

Isabel runs up the aisle and drops to her knees. She rips into the packages of gauze and tape, thrusting them out to Devin.

Chris and Terra emerge with her from the store
’
s deep shadows.
T
hey watch on as Devin closes Abd
’
s eyes forever. His tan hands clutch one another in his lap. The Arab
’
s slumped body looks almost peaceful, praying eternally into the night.

Flickering orange beyond the glass storefront watches on
—
the evil waiting patiently within the darkness.

*  *  *

Devin paces through Warshal
’
s. His exuberant spirit feels like it
’
s been carved out of him with an ax. A brittle silence hangs on the air, the crushing weight of mortality and death threatening all still with a voice to test it. The absence of words is somehow fitting
,
as if speaking of those now lost would just bring more pain to a world that will never again be what it was.

The fireman grabs another pistol off the counter. He slides down the chamber and looks inside its sparkling coffin. The metal feels like ice in his hands. Devin rummages through the stacks of fatal components around him, mechanically shoving bullets between the clip rails and slamming them into the gun bases of anything he can find. Weapon after weapon he fills with their deadly cargo. They soon lay in precise rows along the streaked counter top.

Devin
’
s eyes close tight. Metal and glass shake in his grip.

A delicate hand finds his shoulder from behind.
“
It
’
ll be okay, Devin.
”

“
You sure about that?
”
Guilt continues to gnaw through him, feeding upon the tattered remnants of his hope.

“
If we can stay together and get out of this city, yes.
”

“
How do you know?
”
He turns, trying to pull the answers from Isabel
’
s deep brown eyes.
“
What if we
’
re all just mice in some bloody maze waiting for our traps to catch up?
”

Her gaze drifts distantly to the window.
“
Faith,
”
she finally whispers. The darkness almost snatches the word from her lips.

“
That
’
s in short supply today, love,
”
Devin mutters. He motions toward the black beyond the glass and the orange still shimmering from its shadows.
“
You try holding onto your faith out there.
”
He picks up one of the pistols and holds the grip out to her.
“
I
’
d rather be holding one of these. You comfortable with a weapon?
”

“
More comfortable than being without one,
”
she shrugs.

Devin double-checks the clip and readies it before passing the flight attendant a Glock.
“
Same deal,
”
he says, pointing to the lever alongside the dark body.
“
Safety
’
s there. Keep it on unless you plan on hurting someone.
”

“
Only if they deserve it,
”
the flight attendant glares. Her eyebrow shoots up to underline the point.

“
You sure that jives with your faith, love?
”
Devin asks. His eyes narrow on the pregnant, gun-toting Latina.

“
I
’
m Catholic, Devin, not stupid,
”
she chides. Isabel holds the weapon up, a mischievous smile spreading.
“
Besides, armed faith is the best kind.
”

A sudden grin disappears just as quickly from Devin
’
s face.

“
Stop it,
”
Isabel says, watching the usual spark drain from the fireman
’
s emerald eyes. Even though her fiery nature wants nothing more than to let the man who abandoned them suffer in his own darkness, Isabel
’
s hand drifts instead to the crucifix around her neck. She
’
s rubbed it out of habit as long as she can even remember. The metal at the bottom of the cross has now become much smoother and shinier than the rest. Somehow, it always helps clear her mind.

She puts her hand reassuringly on his shoulder.
“
There
’
s been enough tragedy today. We don
’
t need to bottle more up just to carry with us.
”

“
I just
…
”
Devin starts.

“
They
’
re gone,
”
she says sternly.
“
All of them. More lives than we
’
ll ever know. You can
’
t change that, Devin. You can either dwell on it and turn yourself into a miserable British prick, or you can try to suck it up and get us through all this. Your choice.
”

“
You alright, Izz?
”
Chris asks from behind them. There
’
s a defensive edge to his voice. The lumbering giant towers over the teenager at his side. His arm rests protectively around her slender frame.