The Camp (Chateau 2)

Again. “Die, motherfucker!” I beat him again and again, splashing blood all over myself, delirious in my anguish, screaming and crying out in pain and rage. I kept hitting him when there was nothing left, until his skull was open and his brains were mixed with the dirt. By the time I was done with him, it looked like a semitruck had run over his head.

I leaned back on my heels and caught my breath, seeing the damage I had caused, the vengeance I’d finally gotten. I threw the cane down on his body and went back to my brother. “Fender!” I moved over him and saw the blade still stuck in his stomach, blood everywhere.

He was still awake.

“I’m here.” It was one of those moments when I shut off all my emotions and became a selfless vessel for the other person. His wound was so bad there was no chance he would survive. The blade was too big, it was too deep, he’d already lost too much blood. “You’re gonna be alright.” I looked over my shoulder. “I need a medic! Satellite phone! Get over here!”

Fender looked up at the night sky, so calm it was like he’d just had a glass of scotch and was ready to drift off. “No, I’m not.” He shifted his gaze away from the stars and looked at me. “But thanks for lying.”

I pulled my shirt over my head and looked over my shoulder. “I need a few guys. Now!” I grabbed the hilt of the blade and pulled it out of his stomach, ignoring the way he cringed in pain. I wrapped my shirt around his injury and put the pressure on. “Fender, you can get through this. I need you to stay with me, alright?” I kept my voice steady even though I was so fucking scared. There were already tears in my eyes because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I wasn’t ready to lose the only family I had left.

His voice was still calm. “Magnus.”

The guys came over, one of them bringing a suture kit and bandages, while the other had a satellite phone. The battle was still going, but the victory was ours. I took the bandages. “Call our pilot. Tell him to bring the chopper here now. Fender needs to get to a hospital.”

The guy stepped away and made the call.

I knew he had a lot of internal bleeding, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. All I could do was keep the pressure on and hope he made it.

His voice came again, weaker. “Magnus.”

I couldn’t look him in the eye. I just couldn’t do it. My hands pressed against his stomach, putting pressure on the wound that was supposed to be mine. I was the one who was supposed to be stabbed. Not him.

He placed his hand on mine, becoming soaked in his own blood. “I deserve this.”

I shook my head. “Stop it.”

“You know I deserve this. The girls are free, and I’ll be dead. That’s how it should be.”

“You aren’t going to die! Stop it!”

“Brother.”

I struggled to keep back my tears. “Please don’t…”

“Look at me.”

I breathed hard as I felt more blood stick to my hands.

“Magnus.”

I turned my gaze on him, feeling the tears in my eyes. It was so hard to look into eyes identical to mine, to remember everything we had been through together. He was my friend, my ally, my everything.

“You are the man I could never be but always wanted to be. You said I was the one you looked up to, but it was always the other way around. You’re a good brother…and I love you.”

Tears fell down my cheeks, and I couldn’t breathe anymore. “I love you, brother.”

He squeezed my hand. “Tell Melanie…nothing would’ve made me happier than to see her in that white dress and make her my wife. Tell her to forgive me…but I did what I had to do. And I would do it again…even if I knew what would happen.”

I squeezed his hand.

He started to grow weaker, like he didn’t have the strength to talk anymore.

I kept the pressure on his stomach even though there was no hope. My brother was dying right before my eyes, the shouts dwindling in the background, the world becoming quiet as I waited for his soul to pass. All I could do was sit there…and watch my brother die.

Thirty-Seven

Truce

None of the men approached me. They let me sit with my brother while they took care of the camp. They unlocked the cabins to release the girls and let them out into the clearing. I had accomplished what I’d set out to do, but it felt meaningless now.

My brother closed his eyes and went still, his skin becoming pale and gray. My hands remained on the wound, even though it was pointless. There were tears on my cheeks, and they continued to flow because I knew the loss would never stop hurting.