Brightside - Mark Tullius (miss read books .TXT) š
- Author: Mark Tullius
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Book online Ā«Brightside - Mark Tullius (miss read books .TXT) šĀ». Author Mark Tullius
Saraās wearing a stocking cap, parka, and these huge sunglasses Rachel left at my place on Day 39. Iām wearing my puffy jacket wishing I had a trench coat. The shotgun is practically sticking out the bottom of my pants, and itās making me walk like someone whoās trying to hide a gun. Thereās an elastic drawstring at the bottom of the jacket, and I pull it tight to keep the Mossberg in place. But I just keep picturing it sliding down and blowing off my leg. Sara asks if I have a duffle bag or something, says this just looks stupid. I run to the closet and have to pull Rachel forward to slide out the bag. Itās covered in blood, which is only going to draw more attention.
I rummage through the closet, through all of Dadās boxes, when I find a backpack. Itās too small to hide the Mossberg, but itās better than keeping it in my pants, so I fieldstrip the gun. Not all of it, just break it down so itāll fit. Assembling it is going to take more time, time I donāt know if Iāll have, but itās the best option Iāve got.
* * *
THE WALK TO THE OFFICE is freezing because the sun is about to set. Iām wearing headphones, but my iPod is turned off. Iām just silently talking to Sara as we move down the street. Most people are at work or locked away in their apartments. Wayne has set everyone on edge.
The building where I work has a small crowd out front, but I donāt see any Boots. Neither Sara nor I know how many people heard sheās being sent to the Cabin, but we canāt take any chances. I have to go in alone. We keep our distance and switch up the plan. Itās better this way, because Sara needs to draw the helicopter to me.
She slips off through the Square. I watch her and have the fear this might be the last time I ever see her. I want to chase her down, tell her how sorry I am she got pulled into this, but again, itās not going to help me do what I have to do. I flick on my iPod, crank it as loud as it can go before entering the building. There are a few people getting into the elevator so I take the east stairs. The shotgun pieces clang around in my backpack as I climb. Luckily, no one is in the stairwell, though, I sort of wish there were. I want someone to catch me, to make me go back to my apartment. The Cabin doesnāt seem like such an awful outcome right now.
My hand goes to the door handle, but I canāt open it. Itās not locked, Iām just freaking out. I keep thinking about how I almost plummeted off the side. Sara had to pull me up to save my life.
Iām leaning against the wall and I can feel the sweat soaking through my clothes, which doesnāt feel all that bad because itās so fucking hot here in the stairwell. I decide to put the shotgun together. If the helicopter flies over while Iām assembling it, theyāll kill me.
Sara also needs time to get to the Boots. Sheās supposed to say Wayne is in this building. I told her to keep her distance to let others spread the word, but I know sheās not going to risk Danny to save herself. I just hope they donāt recognize her before they head this way.
The barrel clicks, and I pull out the shells. Slide two in. I have another dozen in the backpack, but Iāll never get the chance to reload. Itās one shot.
The Mossberg is in my hands, and I keep thinking about Rachel. If someone were to see me, I donāt know what Iād do. I guess Iād have to shoot, but thatās only going to alert the Boots, the helicopter, and the gunner.
I suddenly realize this planās already fucked. Saraās going to tell them Wayneās here, meaning theyāll already be looking to kill him, meaning as soon as they see Iām armed, Iām dead.
Iām starting to think this really is all a setup. Melvin could get a hell of a lot closer to the helicopter than me. But Sharon said I was the only one for the job.
Theyāre probably already at the cave escaping, while Iām up here like an idiot holding a shotgun that will draw all the attention.
Iām hating my father right now for trusting that lying bitch, for giving me a shotgun instead of a rifle, which I could fire from cover, instead of standing right out in the open, making it so easy to take me out.
Plus, I donāt even have an escape plan. The helicopter will definitely beat the Boots here, but it wonāt be long before they secure the building.
At least Saraās not with me. Danny either. They might still have a chance. This is what Iām telling myself as I hear the distant thwump of the chopper getting louder and louder. I donāt even have to put my ear to the door to know itās almost here.
Saraās supposed to meet me at the pond. I know she wonāt wait forever. I told her she canāt be late to the cave. Itās Danny whoās important. I just hope she doesnāt hold out too long. Sharon wonāt hesitate to leave her and Danny behind.
I wonder whatās going to happen with Wayne. When Sharon sees him, sheās going to shit herself. I wish I could be there to see her face. I just hope Wayne doesnāt get Danny killed.
My hand is on the door handle and my heart feels like itās the size of my head. The Mossbergās at my side, my finger just above the trigger.
Everythingās tunneling. I canāt breathe.
It sounds like the helicopter is circling. I need to time this right, wait until itās on the other side of the building before coming out.
Voices fill the stairwell, but theyāre not coming up. Everyoneās fleeing, meaning the Boots are probably already here. Theyāll sweep every floor. Iāve run out of time.
The chopper is as loud as ever. I wait for a couple of seconds until itās a little quieter, hoping I can make it to the wall next to the air conditioners before the gunner sees me.
My hand presses down. The click of the door. At least this will be quick.
I throw open the door and Iām practically blind from the sun. I stayed too long in the stairwell and my eyes canāt adjust. The chopperās coming around and my finger goes to the trigger. Itās so loud and bright. I press my back against the wall, hold the shotgun to my chest. Iām closing my eyes picturing Lily and Rachel and my parents. Dadās telling me I canāt be afraid to pull the trigger.
But I suddenly realize that fear might be the only way out of this. The chopper is less than two seconds from seeing me with this shotgun. Thereās no way I can pull this off, not like this.
So I drop the gun, kick it so itās under the metal folding chair. The one I used to salute the flag and sing like a goddamn lunatic.
Thatās exactly what I have to look like. A man who has lost his mind.
I take off running, waving my arms, screaming at the top of my lungs. āHEāS IN THE STAIRWELL! WAYNE KING IS COMING DOWN!ā The gunnerās hands are wrapped around steel, ready to open fire, and I have no idea if he can understand a word Iām saying. But I just keep screaming that Wayneās heading down the stairs and start pointing over the edge. Iām right up against it, looking over, seeing the ground, but somehow with all the adrenaline, Iām not afraid. Iām just screaming, āDOWN! DOWN!ā
The gunner must understand enough, because heās saying something to the pilot, who starts to circle around to the front of the building. Heās descending, the rotor now even with the ledge. Theyāre looking in the windows, looking for Wayne.
I turn back to the wall, where the shotgun is and take off running. I try to pick it up, but my hand smacks against the folding chair. The chopper sounds like itās starting to pull away to get a better view. I flip over the chair, grab the gun, and run back to the ledge. The crowd down below is staring up at the chopper. I see them through the spinning blades, moving so fast itās just this translucent swirl.
I tell them to fucking move even though they canāt hear me. I raise the barrel and aim it right at the center of the blades. One shot. Thatās all I get.
I hold my breath, just like Dad taught me. One eye closed. Shoulderās relaxed. Arm steady.
Someone down below sees what Iām about to do and screams something. The crowd looks up and Iām waving my hand to tell them to get the fuck away from there.
The pilot must see them, because the chopper begins to rise. I donāt have a choice. The gunner is going to have me in his sights any second.
My finger curls around the trigger, just like Rachelās and Grandpaās before everything went dark.
The blast is louder than the rotor and the kickback practically separates my shoulder, searing pain shooting down my arm. But I donāt move. Just watch the buckshot spark off the blades, which slow down to the point I can see all four. Then the chopper begins to tilt. The pilotās trying to pull up or set it down. I canāt tell. I just see the crowd running and the blades grinding and carving into the street. Sparks and metal spray into the air and sidewalk. The fire isnāt instantaneous, but it doesnāt take long before the entire helicopter explodes.
Two women are thrown back. A guy is holding his face, obviously burned and ripped up by the shards of metal.
The gun is still in my hands as I back up, nearly trip. I stare into the sun as the crackling sounds mingle with screams.
What the hell have I done?
The door closes behind me as I enter the stairwell. Iām against the wall and shaking. The backpack is on the floor and I just stare at it, knowing I need to break down the shotgun, but I hear voices coming up from the first floor.
The Boots are here, and I have nowhere to run. Theyāre going to open fire. My fingers fumble for the shells, but I canāt keep a grip. Itās like theyāre covered in oil. I look over the side. Someone is definitely coming. A seven-floor climb and itās all over.
I see the next level down, the door that leads to my office. I grab the pack and race down the stairs. The voices are getting closer. I stay against the wall. My foot misses a step and I nearly fall, my ass almost hitting the stairs, but I keep moving, flinging myself towards the door. My hand finds the handle and I quickly slip in, expecting to see Carlos and
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