The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3) by Deborah D. Moore Page A

rode with Kathy in the ambulance
that took her and a wheelchair to the National Guard Armory where
the men were being held under heavy guard.
    Colonel Andrews pulled in beside us as we
were settling her in the chair.
    “Please follow me,” he said, walking briskly
around the outside of the squat red brick building along a broken
cement path to what looked like the parade grounds.
    The ride was a bit bumpy for her, and Kathy
winced. I stopped Mark from pushing only once.
    “Are you okay, Kath?”
    “Let’s get this over with,” she replied, and
we kept going until we hit the open field, where four young men
were standing in front of a brick wall, handcuffed and
shackled.
    Against the red brick building stood a squad
of a dozen soldiers at parade rest. Sheltered and semi-hidden by
the gloomy shadows, they were there as security and as
witnesses.
    “Ma’am, do you recognize any of these men?”
the colonel asked Kathy formally.
    “Yes, I do. I recognize all of them as the
men who attacked my husband, raped me, and that fat one on the end
is the one who shot my husband in the head,” Kathy replied calmly,
with tears streaming down her still bruised and swollen face.
    “Corporal Jones, do you have anything to
say?” Colonel Andrews addressed the first man. The answer was
silence. “Then for the charges of rape, accessory to murder, theft,
and for behavior unbecoming a member of the military, I sentence
you to death.”
    Colonel Andrews went through the same charges
with Corporals Carter and Griffin. When he got to Sargent
Streeters, he added the charge of first-degree murder.
    “Do any of you wish a blindfold?” he asked.
The one named Griffin said yes. “Tough, you can’t have one, close
your eyes,” the colonel replied harshly.
    Colonel James Andrews pulled his service
revolver, and shot each one of them in the head from a short
distance.
    Mark was shocked by the execution; I was
expecting it. I’m not sure about Kathy, but she didn’t protest.
    “Doctor, can you confirm death for me?”
Andrews requested. Mark pulled a surgical glove from his pocket and
after slipping it on, felt for a pulse on each of the soldiers
lying in the brown grass.
    “You were quite effective, Sir. May we leave
now?” Mark asked flatly.
    “Thank you, and yes, please return Ms. Kathy
to the hospital,” Colonel Andrews replied, and then turned to me.
“I would like to talk to you further. If you’ll ride with me we can
talk.”
    “No,” Mark interjected immediately. “She
stays with me. If you want to talk to her, you will talk to us . You can either come back to our car or we will rejoin
you here, but we will not be separated!”
    “As you wish, Doctor. I will wait for you
here.”
     
    We helped Kathy back into the wheelchair and
pushed through the ER doors, only to be met by Dr. Streiner. She
beamed at Mark, but her smile for me was less than friendly.
    “I can see you’re getting ready to leave.
This has been a pleasure, Mark. I’ve got some surgery scheduled in
a couple of days I think you will find interesting. I’ll give you a
call and let you know the times,” Denise said, offering her
hand.
    “Don’t bother, Dr. Streiner,” Mark said
stiffly sliding his hands into his pockets in obvious rebuff. “I
have no intension of ever working with you again.” Denise looked
like she’d been slapped. “I heard every word you said to my wife
outside the surgical suite. You insulted her, and you insulted me
and the integrity of my marriage. I don’t care if I ever see you
again, and I’m certainly not going to be caught alone with you
under any circumstance.” With that, Mark turned his back to her and
we walked arm in arm to the parking lot.
    Before getting into the car, Mark took me in
his arms and hugged me tight. “You’re twice the lady she is and you
have a class that she doesn’t even know exists. I’m proud of the
way you handled her,” he kissed me soundly then and said “And I
can’t wait until we