“I could have let you die,” Matt said.
“Killing isn’t your thing, Matt,” Walter said.
“I killed Kent,” Matt said.
“Yes,” Walter said, “and Jolie killed Carol, and Danni killed Peter, and Becca killed Nigel and Robbie, and I killed Annabelle and Jack. We’ve all killed people, Matt. Doesn’t mean any of us have to be killers.”
Matt didn’t know who the hell Annabelle and Jack were and didn’t care. He could feel the NaU eating through him faster with every breath he took.
Neither one of them advanced toward him. None of them could see, no matter how hard he tried to tell them the truth. They were still bogged down by the fact that they would be alive tomorrow. Matt wasn’t, and he knew full well he would be once he got Becca’s NaU. Then all of their grief would come full force, and he’d look back on what he did, perhaps even realize that it would have been better if he had died that night instead of Becca. He would be filled with regret and have to live out the rest of his days doing good to repay for his moral failings that night.
But at the moment, he was free from all of that. He was willing to take the burden, though. So much of his life was having others carry his burden for him that it felt great to be able to pick up his own for once and carry it. He could make Becca and Walter's lives so much easier if they just handed themselves over that night, rather than having to force them.
He was running out of time, too.
“You both don’t know what it’s like,” he said, power surging through him.
Walter shifted his stance, a few flakes of glass falling from his head. Becca’s swords grew a little longer, and Matt felt a kinetic shield go around her body.
If he died here, then Matt would be satisfied. Who else could have such a specular end as he? He wouldn’t fall apart like Kent, being a useless thing. If death was coming right for him, then he would meet him head-on, and the two of them would have their battle.
He activated Kent’s NaU.
“Time for this to end,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-Three
This, I believe, will be my last journal entry. I’m not sure what else there is to say. I don’t feel sorry about what I did, nor do I feel any guilt. I’m not burdened with such things. I just want my family safe and secure. That’s what any father would want if he was in my situation.
-Robbie’s Journal
Walter liked the power inside of him. No wonder all of the kids liked being invincible. Walter hadn’t felt this powerful since he was younger, and even then, not this strong. His body healed as well. He could do anything. He could lift an entire building and bring it down on Matt if he wanted to.
But he didn’t want to.
He jumped away from the bar and back toward the fight.
Matt was in a battle with Becca. Every time the girl got close to her brother, he would push her away, activating one of the many NaUs that ran under his skin. Becca wasn’t holding back, so why should Walter? Becca knew her brother better than anyone else alive, so why should Walter not just give up and let the boy die, or kill him instead?
But that’s what Walter wanted, and throughout all of his years, doing what you ultimately wanted never led anyone anywhere good.
Whatever the outcome of this fight would be, it couldn’t be in Atkins. People had seen them do their thing, and the less publicity all of this brought on, the better.
Walter dived forward and knocked Matt down the street. There was an abandoned lumber yard down the street. The owner had been a friend from AA, who, like almost everyone, eventually died. The old man, who Walter remembered, was named Barry (though it could have been Larry) always talked about the yard at the meetings.
The yard was a family heirloom of all things, and he had imagined his family would keep running it to the end of time, or until cutting trees became illegal. He used to talk of it with such fondness that Walter imagined that if he was about half the age he had been when listening to him, he might have been inspired enough to go there and ask for a job. Nothing like working outdoors, even in the winter. Barry/Larry’s kids didn’t feel the same, and even if their old man had imagined they would own that place till the end of time, they had moved the goalpost a bit, and were looking for a buyer. Seventeen good men had been laid off from that plant, and come a few weeks later, three of them had joined the AA meeting ring.
Walter didn’t bother trying to reason with the boy. Matt might have been sensible once, but currently, his insensibility and whole sanity was about as reliable as a tiled billiards game board. Not much reason to try and pry it open.
The two men crashed into the side of the lumber yard through a chain-link fence. Snow, slush, and powder flew about them. They landed in the courtyard. Around them, logs were piled into pyramids, with a large pile of sawdust by the entrance to their left. Rusted forklifts and trucks littered the entrance. The snow here hadn’t been cleared and went up to their knees. Matt lifted above it, snow flying about him.
Blood poured down the side of his face. He must’ve not slowed the blow for him completely, since the boy’s body was damaged. His arms and legs had dark pink veins running through them.
“I can kill you anytime I want,” Matt said. “I won’t even flinch.”
“Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, Matt,” Walter said. “I thought you didn’t want to kill anyone. Well, here I am. If you
