Page 35 of Trig

“Nine, are you shot?” I yell, afraid I won’t hear a response.

“No!” I vaguely hear her say from underneath Gabriel’s weight.

One of the brothers finally spots the shooter, pulls out his gun and kills the man with one shot.

“Asshole was hiding this whole time. I thought we got everyone,” I snap, as I stand up.

Gabriel lays like cement, still shielding Nine.

“Get up, man. It’s all good. We got him.”

We attempt to lift Gabriel who is pure dead weight. Nine is crying under him at this point. We roll Gabriel off her.

“Gabriel?!” I yell and try to move him.

I notice the bullet wound to his temple. My heart drops. Nine sits up and crawls over to him. She’s hysterical. This man took a bullet for her. He saved her life, not once, but twice already. I pray for a miracle and feel for a pulse but there is none. I turn and look at the brothers and shake my head. They all close their eyes, and with pained hearts, turn away. I stand up, run my hands down my face and take a second to process everything. In a state of frustration, I roar.

“Gabriel!” Nine cries out. “Get up! Get the fuck up!”

I grab her arm and pull her into a standing position. “Nine! He’s gone. He’s dead. Look at his fucking head.”

“No,” she sobs. Her legs become heavy and it takes everything in me at this point to lift, pull, and push her to the vehicle. “What about Gabriel? We can’t just leave him,” she cries.

“We have to go, Nine!” I yell, as I grab her face to hopefully snap her out of it. I’m in fear that someone else may be lurking and waiting for another clear shot at us. The brothers hesitate for a second, contemplating if they should grab Gabriel’s body but the sounds of the police and a firetruck are way too close.

“Fuck! Get in, now!” a brother shouts. “There's no time to waste.”

We get everyone in the vehicle quickly and peel out, back tires kicking up dust as we get the hell out of there. The ride to Docs is brutal. It’s quiet and uncomfortable. We’re tired. We’re beaten. We’re sad. We’re leaving with one less soldier than we started with, but we’ve also picked up a new addition, a child. I glance back and look at my son sleeping and it sets in that when we go home, a huge adjustment must take place. I know nothing about him and he knows nothing about me. Nine has to raise a child that Natasha had by me, and Mya has to adapt to a new life with him. I briefly close my eyes and steady my thoughts back to now. I can’t think about tomorrow quite yet. Today is still happening and I’m ready to gift-wrap this bitch with love and ship her out. I lick my lips and lean forward to the two brothers who are seated in the front row. The third brother is seated to my right side, staring out the window.

“Brothers.” I take a second to swallow the lump in my throat. “I think Gabe would have been happy with what we did back there. This wasn’t possible without you guys. My apologies to your family for your sister’s death, as well as Gabe’s. This life, as you may know, is never fair and this doesn’t make it right, but I hope it helps. Gabriel’s cut of the money, keep it. Split it. Give it to your family. Whatever you want.”

The men remain quiet, but through the rear-view mirror, the driver stares at me and nods once. We continue driving in silence as I pull Nine into me. She’s still crying. I pull her in tighter and kiss the top of her head. She settles into my chest and buries her face into my shirt. She’s clinging onto me like she did that first time she saw death with The Savior’s men.

By the time we get back to the cabin, the mood is still flat. We quickly divide the money on the hood of the car, and then we respectfully part ways by shaking hands with Gabriel’s men, but not before they pull my sleeping son out of their vehicle and gently lay him in the porch swing. The kid doesn’t move a muscle.

Doc and his wife meet us on the porch as the brothers leave. I can see their eyes search the area for Gabriel. They look at me with concern. I shake my head at them. They seem to understand as they both stare at each other with a sense of sadness. The doc turns around for a brief moment to gather himself.

“Mya, is she good?” Nine asks.

“The baby is sleeping. No need to wake her,” says the wife, almost in irritation.

Nine nods and crosses her arms over her chest. “Thank you,” she mutters.

Doc turns around and motions me closer. I limp over slowly. He eyes me up and down, noticing that I’m holding Nine’s hoodie to my side. He looks over to her and back to me.

“You guys look like hell. You injured?”

“Stab wound to my side,” I reply.

“And the leg?” Doc asks.

“Collateral damage,” I say.

The wife looks back at Nine.

“And you. You okay?”

Nine remains quiet and stares down at the dirt, so instead, the wife looks over to me for answers.

---