Page 58 of Wings of Ebony
The General looks in my direction. I press against the stack and freeze.
Easy, Rue.
What can I do? What can I really do? I peek. Everything that comes to mind seems equally stupid. The one from the coffee shop fires a pop in the air and slams his foot down again, this time on Brian’s head.
Brian. His name is Brian.
He shudders on the ground and the lump in my throat grows.
He was seventeen and in a band.
And again, Gun Holder’s sneakers skid the slick red ground. More punches. Brian moves less. I slide down to the floor and hug my knees.
He had a full scholarship to that H.B.C.U. in D.C. I remember people talking about it.
“This is a waste of my time. Finish this,” the General says, before muttering the transport spell and dissolving on the spot like a ghost.
Then the gunshot comes.Pop.
I cry harder and louder as more shots pop in my ears. I rake my fingers through my hair. I want to run out and stop them. I glare at my broken wrists and bite back a scream.
He was in the National Honor Society, going to walk across the stage in a few months.
Vomit hovers at the back of my throat.
Brian’s feet don’t twitch. His hands don’t move. Tears slop over my fingers and I try to stop them, but they just come harder. More shots split the air.
“Stop,” I whisper, rocking back and forth. “Just stop, please.”
A car alarm wails outside and someone’s knocking at the shop entrance. All of a sudden the warehouse is still. Someone’s coming. They look at one another and I duck down as they rush past. The warehouse door creaks shut and I let out the scream I’ve been holding in.
Brian lies there, swimming in a growing pool of blood. I hurry over to him and throw myself down at his side. Blood, there’s so much blood. A flash of Moms’s stoop haunts me a second before I blink it away. He’s bleeding out, dying alone with no one but me to weep for him. I press the cotton of his hoodie to my face.
Brian. His name is Brian.
His chest is soaked from my salty tears. My phone. I fumble it from my pocket, looking around, and punch in nine-one-one.
“Jus—just hold on.” Tears gush from my eyes. I don’t know if he can hear my words, but I say them anyway. I take his hands in mine. “Someone, please please hurry please!” The cry scorches my throat.
“Ma’am I need your address.” The emergency responder’s voice blasts in my ear.
My mind’s fuzzy, but I manage to tell them where we’re at. Sirens sound far off and I shake Brian’s shoulders, my nose a congested mess of sniffles. “A little longer.” I shake harder.Please, don’t go.“Just hang on a minute longer.”
His skin grows colder with his every breath. Until, his eyes still. I hunch over him, ear pressed to his chest.
Nothing.
I grab his sleeves and tug, willing him to move, desperate for some sign of life. His mouth hangs sideways.
It’s too late.
He’s gone.
“Ahhhh!”I cry until my chest aches and my throat burns. Everything’s blurred and foggy. He can’t be gone. Just a little more time is all he needs. He can’t—I pound my fists on his chest. I was here, right here, and couldn’t do shit but watch them hurt him.
Sirens whoop so loud I expect to hear people come in any moment. Brian still stares up, so I brush his eyelids closed.
I have to go.
