Page 66 of Leave Me Behind
I can’t fucking believe this. He thinks after all the bullshit I’ve gone through, that I’d be the traitor? That I’d throw away my only chance to avenge Jenkins?
“Suit yourself. I’ll watch through the scope.” I say, a mere few inches from his face, as I tear my arm out of his grip. The moment I’m free he grabs my other arm roughly.
“Why? So you can blow all our brains out from afar? We stick together, you and me, remember?” His voice is low.
Footsteps are approaching and my mind starts to focus more on them than Bradshaw. He notices the shift in me and loosens his hold as he glances over to the approaching men. I take the chance and tear out of his hold. Once free, I don’t waste a second. I sprint through the rain and remain low.
Get to a secure location and then snipe anyone who’s threatening the squad, I tell myself. Giving orders as if you’re talking to comrades was something Jenkins taught me that would help in times of panic.“Let the monster in you take over.”
I slide in the mud and moss and turn so I lie flat on my stomach. The sniper rifle is already put together, but I have to load it and wipe the water from the scope.
By the time my eye is raised to the scope I can see Ian. His eyes are shifty as he looks for me, and… Jefferson. My heart misses a beat. Then Harrison comes up beside them and Pete.
I was wrong?
No. I studied them thoroughly; I know everything about their traits down to the wire.Ian was talking to someone else… Did he only pretend to radio them? Maybe he was signaling to someone else and Jobs responded to Bradshaw because he usedhis own headset. I continue to watch for a second before I realize Bradshaw isn’t among them. I glance up and find him standing above me with his arms crossed.
“Get. Up.” Each word is clipped with fury. He’s been talking to me differently since he returned from the infirmary, like he’s someone else entirely, or he thinks I am. He said he didn’t trust me and I saw the resolve in his gaze. He really would cut my throat if he thinks I’m a danger to the squad.
“I’m telling you, something is wrong—” My reply is cut with the sound of a bullet ringing through the trees. It rings out from across the clearing.
“Fuck, let’s go.” Bradshaw grips the collar of my jacket and lifts me up. He shoves me toward our squad and I reluctantly move in their direction.
“Where’s Sarge?” I say low enough so the sound of my voice won’t carry far.
Bradshaw shakes his head. “No clue.”
Something’s wrong with this entire mission and I can already taste blood in the air. A low buzzing stirs in the back of my mind, saying over and over:Get the fuck out of here.
I know I’ll regret this.
My leg juts out and I stop abruptly. Bradshaw’s moving too quickly to evade my leg and plummets to the ground. I fall over him a second later. His voice is a loud grumbled sound but any words are drowned out by the explosions that shake the earth around us.
He goes still and I hold my breath as a wall of smoke rolls over us and through the underbrush.
The headset fires off with rushed shouts.
“Ambush! I repeat, amb—” Jefferson’s voice gets cut short with gunfire.
“Fuck!” Pete curses through the radio, his breathing labored.
Bradshaw shoulders me off him and stands, charging blindly into the smoke toward his comrades. I grit my teeth at his inability to stay put.
I pull my knife out and grip it with the blade facing my ulnar bone. Killing in close quarters is not in my official file. It shouldn’t even be in my skill set. I prefer not to do it either; it’s messy and so much more personal.
But Jenkins made sure I knew how to slice a carotid from jaw to clavicle to ensure death beyond a doubt. He was keen on never having any ghosts come back from the grave.
My eyes close before I reopen them and slowly move through the thicket in a crouched position.
A figure forms out of the smoke and, although I can’t see his uniform or mask, I can tell by the way he moves that he’s not any of my squadmates. It almost isn’t fair, the unnoticed movements I make as I creep up on him, straightening behind him like a reaper who’s come to claim a soul.
My slash is swift and deep. He only makes a low grunt before collapsing to the ground like a sack of rocks. I move on without waiting for him to die. There’s no coming back from the opening in his flesh. A quick glance down at my gloves, coated with hot, sticky blood, makes my throat tighten.
The next throat is easier, fewer thoughts invade my hollow mind.
I’ll kill anyone who isn’t Malum.
And then I’ll kill the rat.
