The Dead Zone (Book One)

Chapter 17

Bryson had always grown up to believe that bravery was the absence of fear. Fearlessness was not a feat he'd ever achieved, yet he couldn't help but wonder, what if you're the only one who knows you're afraid? Was it the same thing? Because If pretending to be brave- not letting anyone see just how completely and utterly terrified you are- is brave, then that's what Bryson is. 

He knew that while fear had the power to shut you down, it also had the uncanny ability to make you do things you never knew you were capable of. And he'd mastered the art of grasping that fear and using it to his advantage.

He couldn't recall a time he'd never been as scared as he was in the moment he watched that bullet sink into his little brother's chest. When he'd watched the blood well up there like a poppy, or when his brother fell into the street, unmoving.

He was vaguely aware of someone screaming in the background but it all sounded muffled, like someone had stuffed cotton in his ears. His own sub-conscience was screaming at him, too, that his life was in danger. But he couldn't worry about himself, not when he was sure he'd failed, that he hadn't been able to protect his brother once again. Only this time, he'd paid the ultimate price for his mistakes.

Paige was the one screaming. It was the fear he saw in her dark eyes that woke him up from his daze. Fear for him, for herself, and for Zach. 

Knowing that the two most important people in his world needed him caused him to jump into action, to not let his fear cripple him. He had to pull it together. Shoving the door open, he dove from the jeep, just as another shot rang out, aimed for where his head had been seconds before. The bullet shattered the windshield, hitting the headrest, only narrowly avoiding him. Had he waited half a second longer, he would have taken that shot to the head.

  Not wasting time with the bow, he pulled out his own gun, emptying the clip. He'd never forget the face of the man who'd shot his brother. There was nothing spectacular about him, in fact, he was quite average, yet he'd managed to destroy everything Bryson had worked so hard for in just a matter of seconds. He'd taken his brother from him, the force that had been keeping him sane all this time.

 The spray of bullets hit the man square in the chest, sending him stumbling back as he fell to the ground. He turned to his brother as Paige pushed past him, falling to her knees beside him. He didn't want to look but at the same time he had to. He had to see, to know the extent of the damage. 

 Zach's eyes rolled in the back of his head as he tried to focus on something with seeming difficulty. He's alive! 

 "We have to get him out of here! It's too dangerous for me to check the wound."

 Bryson picked his brother up then, a low moan escaping the injured boy, earning a disapproving look from Paige. But it had to be done.

 "You! Get out. He needs to lay down in the back seat." He growls at the curly headed blonde girl that Zach had brought along.

 "I need her help Bryson! I need someone to apply pressure to the wound. Just drive!"

 And so he did. He drove like a mad man, as if he were racing out of the gates of hell themselves. He didn't stop for anyone; pedestrians and armed guards or escaped prisoners alike. As he made his way through the already opened gate, he didn't look back at Cedarville, at the plume of smoke rising into the sky, or the sound of bullets glancing off the back of the jeep as they sped down a tiny dirt road, getting the hell away from that awful place.