Page 166 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

“Jaine.”

I turn to see Dylan. “Where’s Eoin?”

“He went back to get Paddy.” I can see the worry on his face. He doesn’t think they’ll make it back out.

The fear I felt before at the containers is nothing compared to what I’m feeling now. I remember making Eoin promise to go back in for him. He promised with no hesitation. He’d do anything for me. I realize now that I issued him with a death sentence.

I scramble to get off the ground, hacking my guts up as I try to approach the burning building.

Dylan grabs me around the waist. I try to prize his hands off me. “I can’t let you go in there, Jaine. I’m sorry.”

“I need to help them!” My broken voice is drowned out by the sound of the rest of the church roof caving in.

We both turn to stare. We both know what this means.

I twist and turn, trying to escape as Dylan and Cillian both hold on to me. I struggle to get away as I yell my frustrations at the sky and at God him fucking self, and then I sink to my knees because I already know that it’s too late. The building is a fireball. No one could survive it.

They’re fucking gone.

Standing, I turn and walk toward the hog.

“Jaine.” I turn to look at Dylan. He’s crying, but then what do I expect? He’s just watched two of his brothers die.

He sobs as I get on my hog, but he doesn’t come after me. He’s too lost in his own grief.

Ace. Eoin. Irish.

They’re all dead, and it’s my fault. I need to leave before anyone else gets killed.

* * *

I stareacross the lake once more.

Peaceful. Tranquil. Still.

If I start crying, I’ll fill it. I feel numb. Too scared to even breathe in case I shatter.

I killed them.

Ace too beautiful. Eoin too protective. Irish too caring. I was their common denominator. I was their self-destruct button.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

How can I live without them? I can’t.

My sun, my moon, my stars. Gone. My life is now dark.

Even my children will be safer without me around. It’s in their best interests that I become the necessary dead person walking.

I don’t want to be followed. Whether I succeed or not, I won’t live to tell the tale. I take my burner from inside my jacket, remove the phone from the case then take the images from the back. Me and Ace. My two boys. Me and Irish. I pause to stare at it. It’s the only image I have of us together. I stick them in the back pocket of my leather pants.

I don’t have an image of me and Eoin, or I’d have kept ours in there too. After all those months, we never had a single picture taken together. I want that more than anything now that I can’t have it.

I put my phone back in the case, throw it as far across the lake as possible, and watch it sink beneath the surface.

The Exterminator no more.

I blink back the tears. I can’t allow them to fall.

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