John shook his head and made for the door.
“Mercy...”
The word chased him out through the doorway. John quickly shut the door behind him, checking in on Melissa for a moment before rushing up to his own room and the bed that he so desperately needed.
THE GROUP SAT IN STUNNED silence. None of them had been aware that John was capable of such calculated violence. That included Shelley, who was taken aback by the casual way John talked about his brutality, but even more so by the lack of empathy he showed for Paul’s suffering and his eventual death.
“I shouldn’t have told him my name,” John spoke into the silence. “It would have been ... easier if I hadn’t.”
Joe, who sat at the table nearest John, couldn’t stop himself from speaking out. “Damn, John! That is some cold-as-ice shit!” Shelley looked over at the large man and saw the concerned look on his face. She felt herself agreeing with him. John’s actions scared her.
But at the same time, she had to respect his willingness to do these things for the group. Surely nobody else would have been capable of them. She also appreciated his honesty. He said that he would tell them everything, and he did, leaving none of the incriminating details out.
Ern appreciated it. “Thank you, John. You did what you needed to.” He turned to Joe sitting beside him. “And now we know that at most there is one more enemy out there.”
Joe nodded curtly at the older man before looking back at John. “I still think you should have told us what you were going to do. At least we could have talked it over beforehand.”
“And what, Joe?”
Surprisingly, the question came from Rachel as she stepped up to her husband. She stepped out of the crowd and faced the group. Shelley thought that she had an angry, wild look about her. Like she was ready for a fight.
“We’re all too soft for this. This man”— pointed to John—“is not. We would have whined and complained about human rights and God-knows-what. And that soldier would have died before we could have asked any questions.”
She focused her anger on Joe, who visibly stiffened under her wrath. “This man is the only guy with the balls to do what was needed. And we got some valuable information, thanks to him. But what do we do? We persecute him for”—Rachel thought about the right word—“war crimes, or whatever.”
“Honey, we’re not persecuting John,” Joe managed to say.
“Yes, you are,” she replied, then addressed the group once more: “And the rest of y’all had better grow up quickly. This is the new normal.”
She was loading up for another barrage when Rosa said, “Yes. We get it, Rachel. I don’t think anybody truly disagrees with what happened.” She looked at John. “John, we don’t hate you for what you did. I don’t hate you. I just worry that it will get too easy.”
The group had turned to look at Rosa. Despite her injuries, she was still gorgeous. Her large dark eyes sucked in everybody around her as they waited for her to continue.
“We can’t allow ourselves to lose our humanity. What if some desperate soul shows up at the gate? What if twenty desperate souls show up? Once the killing starts, it gets easier every time. I’ve seen it.” Her eyes looked lost for a moment before returning to the present. “Please, let’s try to keep each other in check. Let’s not become that what we dread and loathe.”
Several people started mumbling, but John spoke up next. “She’s absolutely right. It does get easier. The killing. We’ll need ... a balance.” He looked ashamed and added softly, “I’ll try to be better.”
A few people nodded and smiled at him, wanting to believe him.
“OK,” Rosa said.
And just like that, the conversation was over. They all drifted off, lost in their own thoughts. Shelley was amazed at Rosa. The woman had this innate ability to get to people.
It felt like she was poking at their very souls...
Chapter 23
Shelley
November 7, 10:15 A.M.
Shelley had just finished her checkup of Melissa. The woman was already complaining about being stuck in bed. Joe and Shelley had looked at her wounds and concluded that she might be able to leave the clinic in a day or two, assuming the wounds would close up enough by then. She wouldn’t be walking for quite some time, though, and the discussion had quickly turned to rigging a wheelchair for the ex-soldier.
Once in the small hallway, Shelley closed the door behind her and stood in silence for a moment. The clock on the wall told her it was eleven o’clock. Craig’s burial would occur in about an hour. She realized that she had hardly thought about it. She frowned.
I should be feeling guilty about that.
The door to the second office-turned-clinic made her hesitate again. Somebody had died there overnight. That enemy soldier.
Paul.
They had buried him early that morning. Shelley had helped. She noticed that John put extra effort into digging that grave. Digging the man’s grave didn’t go a long way toward repentance but...
A noise coming from the small office broke her chain of thought and brought her back to the present. She listened intently for a moment. Somebody was crying. It sounded like a child.
Is that Maria?
She only hesitated for a moment before calling softly through the door.
“Maria? Is that you? ... Are you hurt?”
The crying stopped for a second. Shelley pictured the strong-willed young girl in the other room. She expected a curt answer like, “I’m fine.” Or even a, “Go away. Leave me alone!” What she didn’t expect was for the crying to start again.
Shelley opened the door to find Maria sitting against the far wall with her knees drawn up to her chest. Shelley rushed to the girl and sat cross-legged beside her. “What’s wrong, Maria?”
Maria lunged into her chest, almost
