First Family (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 4)
Page 17
“That girl was a damn good shot. By all rights you ought to be dead anyway, boy.”
“Wore the armor like you told us,” Daryl gasped. “I’m sorry she got killed. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I’m sorry.”
“And you say you think you left a vial behind?”
“Just the one. It was all rushed like after what happened, especially when the other folks showed up. We counted the vials up on the way back. But they gonna know we took the woman’s blood anyway, when they cut her open and stuff.”
Quarry looked uncertain for a moment. “Get the hell on, then.”
“What?”
Quarry nodded at a relieved Carlos, who quickly unshackled Daryl. The man rubbed his raw wrists and looked at the thin man still on his knees. “What about Kurt?”
Quarry shoved the muzzle against Daryl’s chest. “No more talking. Now get on before I change my mind. Kurt’s not your concern.”
Daryl staggered off, fell, picked himself back up, and stumbled onward into the dark.
Quarry turned back to Kurt.
“Please, Mr. Quarry,” the condemned man mumbled.
“I’m sorry about this, Kurt. But what we got here is an eye for an eye, boy.”
“But Daryl’s the one what killed the lady, sir.”
“He’s also my son. I don’t have much, but I got him.”
He pointed the pistol at Kurt’s head.
“But you’re like a daddy to me, Mr. Quarry,” said Kurt, the tears lapping down his cheeks.
“That’s what makes this so damn hard.”
“This is crazy, Mr. Quarry. You crazy,” he screamed.
“Damn right I’m crazy, boy!” Quarry shouted right back. “Crazy as a mad hatter on crack. It’s in my blood. No way to shake it.”
Kurt threw himself sideways and tried to wriggle away, his clunky boots throwing up little clouds of coal dust. His screams swept down the shaft, like the Union soldiers before.
“Hold the damn light closer, Carlos,” ordered Quarry. “I don’t want him to suffer one second more than he’s got to.”
The Patriot barked and Kurt stopped trying to get away.
Quarry let the gun drop and swing next to his side. He mumbled something incomprehensible while Carlos crossed himself.
“You know how pissed off I am about this?” said Quarry. “You understand my level of rage and disappointment?”
“Yes, sir,” said Carlos.
Quarry nudged dead Kyle with his boot, stuck the heated Patriot in his waistband.
He turned and marched on down the shaft. To daylight.
He was tired of the dark.
He just wanted to fly.
CHAPTER 10