The Selfless Gene

Chapter 43

The Intern didn't care about the abuse or about Isabella's Auntie's pleas. She would be buried where he wants, at St Maria's. He looks down and sees the hole dug for tomorrow's final farewell. Next to her headstone and prepared plot was The General's. He expected his grief to come in waves like before but, mixed with guilt, it was a constant sickness. He stares deep into the hole and the realisation that she isn't coming back makes him lightheaded, that whatever they spoke about, she still married him. He tries not to linger on what he's done but the distance between him and the bottom of that caverness hole opens the floodgates. His guilt ratchets up and, instead of making him vomit, it sits in his throat, suffocating him.

He looks down into the empty grave and sees her, exactly as she landed, with that shocked gaze locked onto him. Isabella always wanted a burial next to a plaque for her parents, who were never found or given a proper resting place. But this was better. Everything he loved, all together.

"My boy. Oh my boy."

The Intern looks to his left and sees The General standing there. He's younger, the man he fell in love with. His collar is up, shielding his neck, while a flat cap shadows his face.

"All of that, for me?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Well, what are you going to do now?"

"Kill him. He made me do this."

"Did he make you do this?"

"Who else?" The Intern snaps. "He killed you. Took you from me and then took her away as well. He's going to pay."

They both continue to stare down into the hole.

"What would happen if you walked away?"

"Walk away? From it all?"

"Son, you could take enough money to never worry again. All the whores you want, beach life until you're an old leathery bag. No more killing. Leave this all behind."

"I can't leave this behind. I can't leave you or Sir Henry behind. After what you did for me? I can't get you a token of revenge? No. This is more important."

"More important than her?" The General responds coldly.

"Shut up!" The Intern mutters through bile-filled froth.

"Ask me what you want to ask me. Stopping bullshitting me. Straighten up, soldier! I assume there's something, that's why I'm here."

"Please forgive me. For not finishing the job. Getting him and this. Forgive me for this." He nods down at the grave, tears streaming down his face.

"You sure she wasn't plotting with him? This was a preemptive strike, no?"

"Forgive me for killing her, please." His shoulders shudder and he falls to his knees on the edge of the hole.

"I'm not forgiving you! Soldier, I said, straighten up!"

On The General's orders, he gets onto his feet, gathering his breath and slowing down his sobs.

"There are always casualties of war. People you love and care for will die. It's what you do next that's important. It's about winning. Being victorious over your enemy. It is about standing tall over that piece of shit, putting a knife through his heart and seeing the light forever ebb from his eyes. It's about turning that knife inside him so it causes agonising pain and making sure your grinning, winning face is the last he sees on this earth."

"Yes." The Intern's sobs abide as he takes control of himself. The General is whipping him into a frenzy.

"It's about spotting betrayal and dealing with the situation!"

"Yes Sir!" He shouts loudly.

"What is she?"

"Gone, Sir!"

"Whose fault was it?"

"Hers and his, Sir!"

"Hers?"

"Yes, Sir! She was going to leave me for him, sir! She was plotting with him, Sir! I got that bitch first, Sir!"

"What are you going to do now, Soldier?"

"Win, Sir! Make him suffer, Sir!"

The Intern turns back around the grave and Isabella is gone. Quietly, he concludes. "Kill him. Sir."