Not to the Swift

Chapter 23

George kept his eyes on the gang member on the railcar. He whispered to Jamal, "If the girls came this way, we'll have to get past him to follow them. I don't know what he's shootin' at but we don't want it to be us."

Two girls' screams filled the night air in between gunshots.

George popped up from his hiding spot. "René!"

The gunman on the car yelled and fell forward.

"That takes care of him," Jamal said with a laugh.

But George already took off in a sprint toward the sound of the children.

He weaved between rail cars and looked for any signs that might help him home in on their position. As he moved toward the edge of the railyard, he saw bodies.

And a man lying on the ground, laughing, with two girls standing above him.

"René!"

His daughter's head snapped up, her smile wide and beaming. "Daddy?"

George dashed to her and lifted her up in his arms. He heard Jamal's footfalls behind him as the boy caught up. "Oh my God, baby, are you okay?"

She clung tight to him. "I'm fine, Daddy. These men protected us." She gestured at the railcar, where the body of a man wearing an Army jacket lay on the bloody metal floor.

"That's Carlos," she said. "He lived here and helped 'Keyla and me."

George pursed his lips. Thank You, Lord, for sending a man like that to watch over my child. May Your angels speed him to his rest.

René pointed down at the man on the ground. "And this is..." Her voice faltered and she stiffened. "Well, I think you know who he is."

George furrowed his brow and looked down.

Initially, the white skin on the man's face struck him as a surprise. Then the man's smiling face registered.

The face of Chris Washington's killer.

Holding his daughter in his arms, George stared at the face of his enemy. "Jamal," he said, "take the girls, and get them home. Can you do that?" He lowered René to the ground.

Jamal nodded. "What are you gonna do, Mister Washington?"

The smile on the man's face faded.

George saw the Beretta next to the vet's body, and picked it up, turning it in his hands, examining it. "I'll be along in a minute."

* * * * *

Chris lay helpless and still, elbows on the ground, hands in the air, watching the agitated man looming over him.

George paced around, fiddling with the gun, eyes burning with anger every time he set his gaze on Chris.

What do I tell him? What do I do? Chris opened his mouth to speak a couple times but never found words worth saying.

It seemed George had the same problem. The man hopped up and sat on the edge of the railcar. He watched Chris out the corner of his eye.

"Seems we got some business to settle, young man."

Chris opened his mouth, and George waved the pistol at him. "Nuh-uh. You don't need to talk, not yet. I don't think you could say anything I need to hear."

George shook as he spoke. "I seen the videotape. I watched my son lift his hands in a panic, trying to stop you from seeing him as a threat. You still fired—twice.