Page 215 of Forever Never
“Uncle Brick?”
“Hadley?”
“Uncle Brick, Aunt Remi’s gone. Her friend Camille, too. A man came.”
Brick launched himself out of the chair. “What happened?” he demanded.
“A man. A man dressed in black. I think Mr. White is dead. He was bleeding really bad. And then the man shot William. I’m with him now. He’s breathing, but he’s hurt bad. Can you bring an ambulance?”
Fuck.
Brick was in a dead sprint now.
It had been a ploy to get him away from Remi, from the house. He’d just left them dangling like bait. He’d abandoned them when they needed him most.
“Brick?” Chief Ford called from where she was conferring with the fire chief.
“Remi,” he said, his voice breaking on the name.
But he kept running down the grassy hill that sloped into town. “Hadley, are you safe?”
“I’m safe but scared. Uncle Brick, he has Aunt Remi and Camille. I think he knocked out Camille. He carried her out, and Aunt Remi looked like she was going to kill him.”
“I’m on my way. Is anyone else there? Is anyone else with you?”
“They’re all asleep. I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to see what Aunt Remi was painting. Sometimes I sneak down and I peek.”
His legs sped up as he passed the school on his left. The houses were all still dark.
He kept Hadley on the line until he burst through his own front door. Kimber and Kyle appeared on the stairs as Hadley ran toward him and threw herself in his arms.
“How long ago did they leave?” Brick asked Hadley.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” Kimber asked, running down the stairs to meet them.
“About ten minutes,” Hadley told him, ignoring her mother. “I tried calling you, Uncle Brick, and you didn’t pick up. So I kept calling while I stayed with William,” Hadley reported.
“Ten minutes,” Brick repeated. He handed Hadley to her mother and raced down the hall.
It was worse than he feared, the scene that met him. The air smelled of the metallic tang of blood. White was dead. His shirt was saturated dark brown. Glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling, frozen in surprise. A pool of blood spread out beneath.
“Dad,” Brick yelled, racing down the ramp. His father sat with his back against the wall. There was more blood there. On the drywall. On his shirt. On his pants.
He looked old, pale, fragile.
“I’m okay,” William panted. “Go after your girl.”
Brick searched his father’s torso, tearing his shirt in two. There was a neat little hole in his chest above his heart.
“Can you breathe okay?” he asked.
“Don’t worry about me,” William insisted, his voice weak. “I’m sorry I let you down. He got White in the yard, and White came to the door begging to be let in. The girls let him in, and Vorhees got a shot off at me as he came inside. I went down. Passed out. I think he clipped me in the leg too. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
There was a commotion coming from the main house.
“Dad,” Brick said again. But none of the rest of the words would come.
“I failed you again. You put your trust in me—”
