Page 106 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream
Then it starts.
The crack of gunfire shatters the humid atmosphere. Sparks burst from the outer edges of the property, thepop, popsound I know only too well raining down onour home. Andreas raises his arms to push me back inside, then his eyes widen as his gait falters. He trips on the last step and tumbles toward me.
The weight of the gun swings to my side as my husband falls into my body, knocking me to the ground. Gunfire closes in and I clutch his shoulders, trying to see his face. His chest is flattening me so hard I can’t take a breath. My hands pat him all over, trying get him to move, trying to make sure he’s alright, searching for any evidence of injury.
Heavy footsteps pound across the porch and thick hands take hold of Andreas’ arms. As he’s moved slightly, I heave in a breath and scream. “Get off him! Get off him now!”
Whoever’s moving my husband doesn’t listen to a word and manages to pull Andreas onto his back. I blink up with glassy eyes. Arrow is dragging Andreas backward into the house. I flip onto all fours and my gaze drops to Andreas’ chest. Blood is pouring out of it. So much blood. I crawl desperately toward him.
“Andreas…”
His eyes flicker and his lips move. “I love you.”
“Leave it Sera,” Arrow pants, nodding to the gun I’d been carrying, as he drags Andreas further into the house. But it’s too late. I’m already reaching for it.
I stand and heave it into my arms. Resting the body on my left palm I raise it up and find my target—the border. My right finger rests on the trigger. A second swells and blooms as I pause, searching for movement. When it comes, I pull back the trigger.
My husband’s face flashes across my lids. His shuttered gaze, his faded voice, his shallow breaths. If he dies, I may as well die too.
The airripsas I swing the barrel from left to right. “Brrrrrrt. Brrrrrrt. Brrrrrrt.”
Shouts rise up from the hedges.
Bodies stand then fall.
I walk out onto the porch, the gun primed to fire at anything that dares to move.
Something hovers to the right of the house. I swing the barrel toward it. “Brrrrrt. Brrrrrrt.”
“Sera!”
Arrow’s voice alerts me to some hardware sailing across the porch and hitting my bare foot. More ammo. I fire another line of bullets then bend to grab the cases. I don’t know how to reload a gun but I shove the bullets into the pocket of my sweater anyway, then I walk around the side of the house. Two men are running in the opposite direction to the edge of the lawns.
Pure hatred lifts the gun and I fire another round of bullets, knocking them both to the ground. Even though they’re dead, Iscreamat them.
“Get the HELL off my property!”
I make my way round the entire perimeter, arriving back at the front door just as another car pulls up and Benito jumps out.
“Let me take that,” he says in a measured tone. “Go to him. He needs you.”
I toss the machine gun to Benito and bolt into the house. Arrow has somehow managed to lift Andreasonto one of sofas and is surrounded by needles, bandages and steel medical utensils. Andreas has a roll of bandage stuffed in his mouth and he’s screaming into it. My gaze drops to his chest—I can’t really see what Arrow is working on through all the blood. So much blood.
I walk across the floor, my bare feet sticking to the bloodied boards, and stop a few feet away from my husband. Arrow has an enormous pair of tweezers and he’s digging them into my husband’s chest. Andreas screams again, tears streaming down his face.
“This thing is fucking deep,” Arrow growls.
“What can I do?” I ask.
Arrow doesn’t look up. “You can clean up his hand so it doesn’t get infected.”
I glance at Andreas’ right hand and it’s a mess. What on earth did he punch? A combine harvester?
I hurry to the kitchen, fill a bowl with warm water and grab some clean cloths. I return to the living room and lower to my knees.
Andreas is staring at the ceiling, his eyes wide in pain. Arrow digs in again and Andreas muffles another scream in the bandage.
I begin to clean his busted hand as carefully as I can.
