But I’ll kill your children if it’s the only way to save the world.
And Ken, in that moment, could think of no way to save his family, and no way to convince Aaron – or himself – of the wrongness of that.
57
Someone sobbed.
At first Ken thought it had to be Maggie. His wife, terrified for their children, for what was going to happen, or perhaps for the possibility – if not the actuality – of what Aaron and Theresa were saying.
But it was Elijah.
The big man had tears coursing down his cheeks. He was looking to the side, into the cab. “Don’t you see?” he said. “Don’t you understand?” He wiped his eyes. His gun didn’t move. “We’re all dying. This thing, it’s some kind of attack, some kind of invasion. And we might be able to stop it.”
His gun lowered. Not all the way. Just enough to point at something close to the floor. Something small.
“No!” Ken heard himself scream in tandem with his wife. Buck, too. And Christopher took a step up before stopping as Theresa swung her gun toward him.
“You’re a good momma,” said Elijah. “I know that.” Sobs wracked his huge body. “My momma was a good lady, too. She died when my neighbors pulled her to pieces. Didn’t deserve it.”
“And you think my girls deserve this?” screamed Maggie.
“None of us do,” said Theresa. Ken couldn’t be sure if she was speaking to Maggie, to him, or to herself. “That’s the point. Don’t you see that’s the point?” She looked like she was on the verge of tears as well. That scared him most of all: they really were good people. Not sadists or opportunists. Not people who wanted to take advantage of the end of the world to play out some power fantasy that bathed them in the blood of children.
They honestly believed this could save what was left of humanity.
The box was still whining that grating whine. Grit in his synapses, impeding his thoughts. Confusing him.
“My brother died,” said Theresa. “We’ve all lost people. None of us got to choose who or when.” Her gaze hardened. Focused fully on Ken. “And you don’t, either.”
His heart sank as he heard the implication in her words.
58
Ken leaped forward. No thought, no planning. Just motion. The primal thing that screamed to protect his offspring, that demanded that his line continue.
Something boomed. A second clap of thunder.
Then he was somehow past Christopher. Pushing under Theresa’s gun. It went off –
(Again? Was she the one who fired, or was it Elijah? Are the girls already dead?)
– and the sounds of the squawking box, the engine, everything all disappeared in a loud ringing that created a halo of sound around his world. He screamed in pain, but didn’t hear that, either. Just the single sustained tone.
No time to care. Theresa was covered in body armor. Body shots would be minimally helpful.
He did something he normally wouldn’t have considered. Something ruthless.
Something awful.
And he did it without hesitation. His family was at risk.
One hand swept her gun up as it fired.
The other hooked out. A hand turned into a claw. Yanked at her throat.
He felt the thick threads that bound the gash in her neck tear. Theresa gagged. Blood gushed. Warm on his skin, red on his hands.
He knew he could kill her. Could rip away in one smooth motion and she would be dead and he could take the gun and that would be that.
“It’s the right thing to do.”
Dorcas’s words – some of the first she had said to him – came back.
He stopped short of killing Theresa. Let her fall to the floor of the cab, grabbing he throat. She might still bleed to death, but he wasn’t going to pull her apart right there. He’d give her a chance.
That was more than she’d been prepared to give his girls.
Past her. Into the cab. He snatched Theresa’s gun from the floor where she’d dropped it. Hoped the safety wasn’t on. Hoped it was loaded. Hoped he could shoot it accurately.
Too many things to hope.
Two massive forms struggled beside the train’s controls. Buck had leaped on Elijah. Elijah was below Buck, driven back by the other man’s mass, by his frantic attack.
But Buck wasn’t a fighter. Not a trained one, anyway. Elijah sent a pair of punches into Buck’s kidneys, and the older man staggered back, gagging in pain.
Elijah pointed his gun.
Ken pointed his. The huge black man hadn’t noticed him. He could save them all.
A weight slammed into him from behind.
“Sorry, bud,” Aaron whispered.
59
Aaron drove Ken forward, and at the same time the cowboy’s hand slammed over his shoulder, driving into a nerve on his right bicep that half-deadened Ken’s arm. His gun drooped. He couldn’t help Buck that way.
If Buck was shot, Elijah and Aaron would take Ken out.
If Ken was gone, the girls would follow.