THE KILLER ANGEL: Book Two "Legend" (THE KILLER ANGEL TRILOGY 2) by Myles Stafford Page B
Authors: Myles Stafford
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all did.
It was a quiet and happy reunion of embraces and discussion. Five survivors together in celebration seemed an increasingly rare thing. Ben perked up immediately at Brick’s presence, and they both fell to the ground in joyful excitement.
I felt that Ben and Brick would soon be okay, after all. Brick, in particular, seemed remarkably - almostshockingly - fit, given the rather severe nature of his injuries, and with such a short time to mend.
The Charbonneaus do indeed heal quickly
, I mused, as Brick often pronounced.
Still, this was remarkable, almost phenomenal
...
We promptly decided to continue for a few hours in a return route to Jeff’s and Wade’s home, although, due to the slower pace, our destination would not be made until well after nightfall, so an additional evening in the forest would be necessary.
As I had rather expected, the men could not restrain themselves from following me on my mission to Dr. Cott’s, even though they knew they could not keep up as I moved rapidly to find Ben.
Brick, too, was beside himself with anxiety after I left. So, the three comrades gathered their gear and left a day and a half after my departure, but it was slow going for Brick, and, as expected, Jeff and Wade could not bring themselves to abandon him, in spite of his admonishments to do just that.
“Nicki, where’s your glove?” Brick asked, knowing that I rarely removed them.
In reply, I gave my friends a thorough current events report as we walked, right up to seeing the three of them pass me on the road, including the tragic end to the mystery girl.
The entire retelling dimmed all enthusiasm in me for high spirits, and I had nothing in my soul with which to cheer sad hearts, for mine was still so broken. I was beginning to doubt that I would ever fully heal.Death and loss was chipping away at the livelier, more optimistic aspects of my persona, leaving behind a survivor, deadly and capable - but not a whole person.
We settled the night onto the middle deck of another old water tower that Brick had spotted on the way to find me, knowing well that the giant cisterns were my favorite layover, both for the security and for the view.
Wade and Jeff were kind enough to carefully hoist Ben up, and we all enjoyed the evening with our backs against the hard wall of the tank, our feet dangling over the side as we watched the sun set and conversed softly. At that pleasant moment, the world was quiet and peaceful; the air fresh with the scent of pine, brought gently to us on a soft breeze.
I was so very tired, in spite of my respite at the Kincaids. Their generous hospitality seemed so far away now in this wilderness. I so wanted to remain with that lovely family.
Following small conversation and routine weapons maintenance, I eased back onto my foam mat and noticed Brick’s concerned look for me. Stolid, yet compassionate; he knew that I was unwell, becoming a wraith of my former sparkling self. No spirit; no joy; no life. He feared for me, with good reason. I was unable to regain fullness as a person - lacking the lively and humorous spirit he knew so well.
Always before, I was able to climb out of the darkness with comedy and wit, but this time it was more difficult. I felt myself becoming something of aninstinctive being - observe, evaluate, decide, fight, rescue, destroy, survive - repeat.
Maybe Ben, too, suffered as I did. In the fray, I felt alive and certain of myself, undefeated. But later, in contemplation, my vitality ebbed. I now saw myself lying with eyes open to heaven, a large bullet hole gouged into my chest.
Sometimes, on nights like that, fear consumed me, chasing me into my dreams, waking me as jaws ripped flesh from my body, having already destroyed those whom I loved, my own fighting effort proving useless... yelling without sound; running without traction
.
Thank God this panic never seized me as I prepared for the fight against an unyielding enemy. In those thrilling moments, I became
It was a quiet and happy reunion of embraces and discussion. Five survivors together in celebration seemed an increasingly rare thing. Ben perked up immediately at Brick’s presence, and they both fell to the ground in joyful excitement.
I felt that Ben and Brick would soon be okay, after all. Brick, in particular, seemed remarkably - almostshockingly - fit, given the rather severe nature of his injuries, and with such a short time to mend.
The Charbonneaus do indeed heal quickly
, I mused, as Brick often pronounced.
Still, this was remarkable, almost phenomenal
...
We promptly decided to continue for a few hours in a return route to Jeff’s and Wade’s home, although, due to the slower pace, our destination would not be made until well after nightfall, so an additional evening in the forest would be necessary.
As I had rather expected, the men could not restrain themselves from following me on my mission to Dr. Cott’s, even though they knew they could not keep up as I moved rapidly to find Ben.
Brick, too, was beside himself with anxiety after I left. So, the three comrades gathered their gear and left a day and a half after my departure, but it was slow going for Brick, and, as expected, Jeff and Wade could not bring themselves to abandon him, in spite of his admonishments to do just that.
“Nicki, where’s your glove?” Brick asked, knowing that I rarely removed them.
In reply, I gave my friends a thorough current events report as we walked, right up to seeing the three of them pass me on the road, including the tragic end to the mystery girl.
The entire retelling dimmed all enthusiasm in me for high spirits, and I had nothing in my soul with which to cheer sad hearts, for mine was still so broken. I was beginning to doubt that I would ever fully heal.Death and loss was chipping away at the livelier, more optimistic aspects of my persona, leaving behind a survivor, deadly and capable - but not a whole person.
We settled the night onto the middle deck of another old water tower that Brick had spotted on the way to find me, knowing well that the giant cisterns were my favorite layover, both for the security and for the view.
Wade and Jeff were kind enough to carefully hoist Ben up, and we all enjoyed the evening with our backs against the hard wall of the tank, our feet dangling over the side as we watched the sun set and conversed softly. At that pleasant moment, the world was quiet and peaceful; the air fresh with the scent of pine, brought gently to us on a soft breeze.
I was so very tired, in spite of my respite at the Kincaids. Their generous hospitality seemed so far away now in this wilderness. I so wanted to remain with that lovely family.
Following small conversation and routine weapons maintenance, I eased back onto my foam mat and noticed Brick’s concerned look for me. Stolid, yet compassionate; he knew that I was unwell, becoming a wraith of my former sparkling self. No spirit; no joy; no life. He feared for me, with good reason. I was unable to regain fullness as a person - lacking the lively and humorous spirit he knew so well.
Always before, I was able to climb out of the darkness with comedy and wit, but this time it was more difficult. I felt myself becoming something of aninstinctive being - observe, evaluate, decide, fight, rescue, destroy, survive - repeat.
Maybe Ben, too, suffered as I did. In the fray, I felt alive and certain of myself, undefeated. But later, in contemplation, my vitality ebbed. I now saw myself lying with eyes open to heaven, a large bullet hole gouged into my chest.
Sometimes, on nights like that, fear consumed me, chasing me into my dreams, waking me as jaws ripped flesh from my body, having already destroyed those whom I loved, my own fighting effort proving useless... yelling without sound; running without traction
.
Thank God this panic never seized me as I prepared for the fight against an unyielding enemy. In those thrilling moments, I became
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