Page 49 of His to Burn
She looked like a college-aged version of the woman—except her eyes were that vacant milky white I saw in Jorge.
“You have to get away from her!” I screamed, pointing at the woman’s daughter.
“Quiet,” Jack snapped, suddenly next to me. I had lost track of him, but now he again had my arm in his tight grip, locking me in place.
I didn’t try to shake him off. I twisted as best I could to face him.
“We have to help her, or—” My words were cut off by the woman’s blood-curdling scream.
A scream that was silenced as the daughter pulled her down and out of view.
Even though I couldn’t see them, I kept staring anyway, the sun burning at my back, my eyes threatening to tear because I didn’t blink.
“Move!” Jack said, his voice low and urgent.
It couldn’t have been long, but the world felt entirely different than it did before I spotted the woman.
I wasn’t sure how that was possible.
I knew what I’d seen, had evidence of so much worse, but that…
I let Jack lead me, and we moved quickly, his hand still on my arm. We were practically running until we were out of that neighborhood and into another and then another before he stopped.
Jack squeezed my arm. For a moment, his touch seemed almost tender, but then it shifted. His eyes blazed with anger and his voice was harsh when he finally spoke. “What the fuck was that?”
“She needed help,” I said.
He looked at me like I was the stupidest person he’d ever encountered.
“Help?” His laugh was cold. He huffed with disgust. “Listen close, Counselor. You can’t even help yourself. You’re in as much danger as you’ve ever been in your entire life.I’min as much danger as I’ve ever been in my entire life. It’s nice that you wanna—” he looked at me, his face still twisted with disgust “—help people. But that’s how you’ll end up dead.”
I glared at him, but didn’t say anything else.
He paused for a moment longer, scanning the area for any threats. Apparently satisfied, he said, “Move.”
I did without speaking.
There was nothing to say, and I was certainly in no mood to argue. So we set off, and I again said a prayer that this would go smoothly.
A prayer that went unanswered.
We had made it another half mile when I heard the scramble of feet behind me. I turned, expecting to see more of those things, but instead, there were three people, two men and a woman. They looked frantic and approached us with a speed and desperation that had me on edge.
I glanced at Jack, not surprised when he wore the expression I expected—one that said there was trouble, but he was prepared for it.
“Can you help us?” one of the men said, getting closer and still walking quickly.
Jack stepped back. “No.”
The man kept moving closer, and it was only when he did that I noticed the wrench in his hand. He lifted it.
“Let me ask a different?—”
He went to speak but doubled over when Jack punched him in the ribs. The wrench fell out of his hand and clattered uselessly to the ground. Before the others could react, Jack picked up the wrench and swung. He made contact with the man's ribs—ribs that were certainly broken now.
I watched as he lifted the wrench, prepared to swing again.
“Jack, no!” I said, my voice high-pitched.
