Molotov cocktails.
Panic finally set in when bullets were flung from the entrance of the camp and into the crowd. A few Vultures fell to the bullets. Many of them held weapons, and a firefight ensued.
Jon’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t free himself from the noose, and bullets continued to come through the air. Whoever was shooting likely didn’t give a shit about him, and he wondered if a bullet to the head might be better than hanging from the end of this rope anyway.
He looked around, seeing where the others had gone. Judah had disappeared, and the two men who had led him to the platform were nowhere in sight. Unless someone decided to jump up onto the platform and unleash the trap door beneath him, Jon was at least safe from hanging for the time being, but he still had the firefight to worry about, including the worry that one of the Vultures would turn their guns toward him for the pleasure of it.
Pulling at his bound hands and simultaneously moving his neck around, he tried to get out of either the restraints or the noose. Nothing worked.
“Come on!”
The Vultures had at least spread out and found cover, most having done so away from the platform, so the bullet storm in the air had at least subsided. But he still couldn’t work himself free, and remained exposed out in the open.
He heard the screams of people near the front of the camp and looked up, squinting his eyes again. For the first time, he could see the faces of some of the attackers.
“Son of a bitch.”
It was the people of Hope’s Dawn.
Jon saw several familiar people, including Terrence and Hugo. He searched for Brooke near him, but didn’t see her. He hoped this meant she had decided to stay home with Lucas instead of coming to fight, but Jon knew better than that. Women like Brooke didn’t ignore battles like this one.
He’d continued working to free his neck from the noose when he saw someone approach from his left. Jon turned, ready to kick at a Vulture, but instead saw a face he wouldn’t have expected to see at all.
Max, the guy who Jon had wanted to leave on the roof to die only days earlier, was running across the platform toward him. He held a pistol in his hand.
With bullets continuing to race through the sky, Jon didn’t feel it was time for a proper greeting.
“Get me the fuck out of here.”
His hands shaking, Max didn’t argue. He pulled a knife from his pocket and cut the plastic ties from Jon’s wrists. Jon felt relief as the restraints broke loose, but he had no time to enjoy it. He brought his hands up to his neck and rid himself of the noose. He briefly massaged his neck before the gunfire reminded him that he had to get down.
“Can you walk?” Max asked.
“Barely.”
“Come on,” Max said, putting his arm around Jon.
The kid led Jon to the stairs which he had used to get onto the platform. They moved as quickly as they could, Jon’s legs slowly gaining back strength. On the ground, they walked along the side of the platform, heading for the rear of it to take cover. Then, as they rounded the corner, a shot sounded and both men fell to the ground, screaming aloud.
Jon hit the ground face-first, but other than the impact of hitting the ground, he felt nothing else. But looking over, he saw things weren’t the same for Max.
Max had been shot in the back, and he lay on his stomach with blood pooling around him.
Looking back, Jon searched for where the shot had come from and saw a Vulture aiming a rifle at him. Jon’s eyes went wide, and he rolled behind the gallows, just avoiding the bullet which skirted the dirt instead.
Jon then looked at Max, who groaned in pain.
“Max, buddy, I know it hurts, but you have to stay still. They won’t waste a bullet on you if they think you’re already dead.”
But he couldn’t stop moving. While not doing it aggressively, Max squirmed. Jon hoped the Vulture would still choose not to waste a bullet on Max if he didn’t see him as a threat, but he couldn’t take the chance. He saw the gun lying near Max’s right hand, a good five feet or so from the back of the gallows. Taking in a few deep breaths, Jon exposed himself to the shooter while quickly grabbing the gun. The attacker got off one shot, but it skidded across the dirt, missing both Jon and Max. Not wanting to miss an opportunity, Jon raised the gun and aimed it at the man. He fired without hesitation, hitting the Vulture in the chest and sending him down to the ground.
Jon then turned his attention to Max, leaning over him and putting his hands on his shoulders.
“Stay with me,” Jon said. He went to rip off part of Max’s shirt to try and stop the bleeding, but stopped as Max’s hand grabbed onto his leg. He looked up at Jon with bloodshot eyes.
“I-I’m sorry I was such a pain in the ass.”
Jon could see now that there was no saving him. He took Max by the hand, being the only one there to offer him any comfort in his final moments.
“Don’t you say that,” Jon said. “You’re a fucking hero. You saved me up there.”
“Just… take care of them. Help Hope’s Dawn. Take care of Brooke.”
Nodding, Jon squeezed Max’s hand. “I will, brother.”
The grip on Jon’s hand let up, and he watched Max exhale one last time before his eyes stared blankly off into the distance. He waited for a moment to assure he was gone, and then rolled his eyes closed.
Finding cover behind the gallows, Jon plotted his next move. The pistol wasn’t going to take him far in taking down any number of the Vultures, but in his mind, there was only
