Rebirth by Michael Poeltl Page A

patio.
     
    Chapter Thirteen
     
    “Talk to me, Sonny.” I begged him. “Whose skin is that?”
     
    “It’s Gareth’s,” he replied. “Jesus, Sara...” His head lowered and his eyes closed.
     
    “I don’t think I want to know any more.”
     
    “We killed them all. We killed most of them in their sleep. But when the guns went off a few of them woke up, and we shot them down.” He paused. “Maybe to them it was all a dream, you know? Doesn’t everyone hope they’ll just die in their sleep?”
     
    “Yeah,” I said, mesmerized by the monotone of his voice.
     
    “We shot them like cattle. One, two, three… they fell like sacks of potatoes, blood everywhere.” Judging from his tone, Sonny had realized revenge wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
     
    “I wish you hadn’t gone, Sonny.”
     
    He turned then and looked at me wearily. “Yeah. Me too, Sara.”
     
    He continued to describe how Freddy had located Gareth during the early part of the melee and secured him to a tree with rope, letting him watch his army be gunned down in front of him. Earl swaggered over to Gareth when the last of his followers were dead, and before cutting his throat, said; “Ever seen an animal skinned, Gareth? Know how many animals I’ve skinned? Enough to know how to skin a man.” Then the knife came out and Earl slid it across Gareth’s throat slowly, a shallow cut. Thick red blood ran slowly down his neck and chest, collecting on his robe. The cut was not deep enough to kill, only to torture. Gareth’s mouth opened as if to protest and Earl jabbed the knife down on his tongue cutting through his jaw. He left it there for a time and circled his victim, sizing him up.
     
    Finally, after facing the leader of the flag army once more, Earl pulled his sidearm and shot Gareth in the head, just as Connor had been executed. Freddy then untied Gareth and Earl went to work on the corpse.
     
    “Jesus, Sonny,” I choked. “That’s horrifying.”
     
    “Yeah, pretty fucking sick.”
     
    “What are we going to do about him?” He knew who I meant: Earl.
     
    “I don’t know anymore.” He was distraught. “I’m not taking sides. I’m leaving.”
     
    He said he wanted to resume his long-abandoned search for Tom, a friend who we’d lost during those first crucial hours after the bombs had dropped. Tom was a gawky looking kid, his eyes too big for his face, his teeth misshapen and his self-esteem non-existent. Sonny was looking for purpose again, some semblance of reason to go on. I pleaded with him to stay, to watch over me and the baby.
     
    “Sonny, I - I’m so sorry things between us got so messed up. But you see now, you see what Earl is. He’s sick!”
     
    “I see that. I guess I always knew that, Sara. But after Connor, and Joel….” He trailed off. “After the flags and everything went to shit, after all we’d accomplished here. I just needed someone to tell me it was alright to take revenge.”
     
    I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sonny, I’m scared for us. I need you to stay.” I wiped away a tear with my other hand.
     
    Sonny gently removed my hand. “Sara, I’m not staying. I can’t.”
     
    “I’m begging you, Sonny.” I began to cry. “He’ll kill us all, eventually. He’ll write a reason in his journal and then he’ll carry it out.” Sonny’s heavy hand touched my head gently.
     
    “There’s nothing for me here, Sara.”
     
    I couldn’t argue that there was nothing here, but what was there beyond here? Part of him had died when Connor and Joel died, the other part perished during that trip he had taken with Earl to exact revenge. We were all dying inside. How much more could any of us take? I resigned myself to his departure.
     
    “Come with me.” He suggested.
     
    “Where would we go?” I asked.
     
    “East. Tom had family on the east coast. And then we could find a boat. And then…”
     
    “And then?”
     
    “Then we’ll sail it.” He turned to look at the