They were all stunned, she was really gone.
Mike sat slumped and glassy eyed. He was bleeding from a gash on his arm. The blood bubbled up from the wound and dribbled down his body in spurts. He did not bother to try to staunch the flow.
Charlie raged and screamed and frothed. He paced over the cracked pavement. Those who had rushed over to help the bloodied men stood back. They refused to meet his gaze.
Chesterfield just stood there. He was numb. Charlie shoved him and got no response. He shoved him again.
Charlie screamed, “You bastard! You god damned coward!”
Chesterfield swallowed and opened his mouth to speak. He found that he couldn’t. Charlie punched him in the mouth.
He stood over the older man and said in a slow shaking voice, “You just couldn’t let her go. You just couldn’t pull the trigger. You should have given me the gun. You let them take her.”
Chesterfield tasted blood but did not raise his hand to feel the split in his lip. Charlie walked away and collapsed at his brother’s feet and began to cry. He clawed at the pavement and wept.
There was no pain for Chesterfield. It would come, but only later. It was the thunderclap to the lightning. It would come.
It would come.
