Turncoat: Turncoat Trilogy Book 1

Chapter 24.3

I spun, following my knocked aside hand, aiming to elbow him in the temple and be done with it. I felt a solid impact on my lower back and heard a crack followed by a sharp intake of breath. My elbow sailed through empty space and I stumbled to recover my footing.

Becker shook his hand out, blood running from the knuckles.

"Yeah, punching a bionic spine will hurt," I said.

His lip curled up into a scowl. "A faggot like you doesn't deserve to live," he snarled and lunged.

His shoulder plowed into my stomach and we both fell to the ground. My vision flashed white for a moment and I felt my grip loosen on the pistol and then it vanished altogether. My vision returned to see Becker standing over me with my pistol in his hand. "You couldn't just go easy, could you?" he asked.

My leg shot out without my permission, slamming into his knee with a sickening pop. A screech of pain left his lips and I rolled away, jumping to my feet. My injured leg felt stiff, the ankle didn't roll properly and the knee wasn't moving freely. I kicked the pistol from Becker's hand, sending it skittering through the leaves. I started hobbling away, maybe I could outrun him now.

White pain flashed in my skull as I pitched forward, the world going dark for a moment. I could feel hot liquid sliding down my scalp as I lay on the ground. My fingers found a small stone with a sharp edge and I closed them around it, unwilling to let go of my impromptu weapon. I pushed to my feet slowly, making it to my knees when Becker's boot slammed into my back, pressing my face into the dirt once more.

"You're a plague on this country," he spat. His boot collided with my ribs, rolling me onto my stomach. I curled into a fetal position, clutching my injured torso. I could taste copper in my mouth and feel the sticky blood in my hair. Pain radiated through my whole body as he grabbed my chin and pulled me up to my feet. His other hand found the shrapnel in my side and clamped down tightly on it.

"It's a shame this appears to only be a flesh wound," he snarled.

I spit the blood in my mouth at him, landing a glob of it on his cheek. Pain ripped through me as he twisted the shrapnel around. He was saying something, I could see his lips moving but all I could hear was screaming. An inhuman, feral scream like something out of a nightmare. Laced with fear and pain, I almost expected a ghost to appear at any moment. I swung the rock wildly at him, hoping to hit something, anything to make him stop hurting whomever was screaming.

Then, then there was blood, so much blood. It slid out at first, the rock keeping most of it in and then he pulled it out. Why did he pull the rock out? His blood struck my face as I grabbed for his throat. I think I was pleading for him to stop moving, I wasn't sure. The precious substance flooded over my fingers uncontrollably. No matter what I did, it just kept coming in spurts. There was so much of it. The screaming had been replaced by silence, a ringing sound that seemed to come from everything and nothing all at the same time.

He struggled, strongly at first, trying to throw me off of him. I don't know if he registered what had happened. He was choking on his blood, it bubbled up in his mouth as he tried to breath through it, leaking down his cheeks. Then his struggles weakening, his feet jerking with less power, his attempts to grab at me slower. Panic settled into his eyes and then, he stopped. Stopped moving. Stopped breathing. He just stopped.

My hands came away from his neck slowly, shaking like the leaves in the tree above. I stood up and blinked a few times. At some point, I stumbled back to find my bags and started walking. I really didn't have a direction in mind.

"Hey! Hey, you!" I heard someone shout like we were separated by a wall of water. "What happened?"

I looked over to see a pair of men running towards me. "You're bleeding. Are you alright?"

"It's not mine," I said in monotone. "Not all of it."

"Then whose?" one asked. "Whose is it?"

"I tried to stop it, I tried," I muttered. It felt like that's all I could say. The next thing I remember is vomiting.