Shattered Bloodline - Chapter 8：Miranda 8

I heard the gun shot from the street. We all did, it came from one building that was a little ways down from the bakery, that seemed to have caught fire. I ran in, the others hot on my heels, and found Elliot, dying so to speak, in a chair. John was standing in front of him holding Elliot’s gun.

I ran around to see a gunshot wound in his chest. “Why aren’t you healing? Like you did before?” I asked crying. ‘Because he’s dying’, I heard Mumiah say again in my head. This must’ve been the next to last shot, which meant there was only one bullet left!

I shot up and yelled to all of the others that had followed me up, “Do what you can, you should be able to grab the gun or knock it away or something but get that gun away from him!”

Stephen Phillips was the first to step up, it was a shame John couldn’t see it coming, because first Stephen slapped the gun from John’s hand. While John stood dumbfounded at what must’ve happened, Stephen reared back and swung at him, hitting him square in the jaw. John flew back and hit the wall with such force that I heard a rafter groan from below.

“Miranda, I’m sorry, I can’t…” Elliot started but passed out before he could finish. I stood up and looked around, there had to be something I could do.

Suddenly, from seemingly nowhere, a voice said inside my mind, ‘You are all made of energy, as fire is, the fire of passion still resides in the dead. Lend your avenger your fire so he may finish his mission.’

I knew where the words had come from and I knew what to do. I looked at Elliot and closed my eyes, pushing fire from myself into his chest. All at once, Elliot shot up and looked at me with a bewildered look on his face.

He looked over at John as he yanked his hands apart, breaking the rope binding his wrists.

Elliot started toward John and everyone dispersed to give him a straight shot for him. “This is for Miranda,” he said and as soon as Elliot was close enough he brought his fist around and caught him across his face. As John spun away, Elliot grabbed him and pulled him back up to hit him again. “That’s for me,” this time, John dropped like a sack of gold nuggets. Elliot was furious and began kicking John, naming a person, a victim in this room of John Carlston with each kick.

On the one side of the room, the fire had moved to the building we were in. The room filled with smoke and Elliot began to cough. You could still hear the blood in his lung with every breath and cough, though the wound itself was healed.

I searched around to find the gun, but it was nowhere to be seen. “Stephen,” I yelled and he came over to me. “Where did the gun land? Did you see it?”

Stephen shook his head but began looking with me. I scanned the floor over to some stairs on the opposite end of the building from Elliot and John. Then I saw it, at the top of the stairs, but before I could get to it, a hand reached down and grabbed it.

I looked up to see whose hand it had been and saw a ghostly, shadow of a man. A man I had been married to. A man that once was an exuberant, warm person. But this, was not that man. This man was tattered, worn, and broken. He had been broken before but it was almost as if my forgiveness had drove him mad. He looked at the gun as he started taking staggered steps toward the other two men.

“Elliot, Charley has the gun!” I yelled, instantly regretting letting Charley live. Elliot swung around and looked into Charley’s eyes. That’s when Charley aimed the gun at Elliot and Elliot raised his hands in surrender.

“Charles,” John called from the floor, he spit out blood and looked up at Charles. “Shoot him, Charles!”

Charley just stood there looking at Elliot.

“Charles! Shoot him!” John yelled from the floor, again, this time drawing out his words angrily.

Charley still just stood there.

“Charles! God damn it, shoot this bastard, so we can get out of here before this whole building comes down on us!” John shouted at Charley.

I think that was what did it. That’s when Charley had had enough, he turned to John and aimed the gun at him instead of Elliot.

“What are doing, Charles? I’m your partner, your friend. What are you doing?” John started sounding a little scared, not really scared but a little studder to his speech.

Charley didn’t say anything, just stood there aiming the gun at John.

“Charles!” John yelled, realizing that Charley wasn’t listening. “Charles!”

Nothing came from Charley, still.

John stared at him, walking up on the gun. “Do it, Charles! Shoot me!”

That’s where John crossed the line. “Yeah, I was weak! I let you push me around in business! We always did it your way! You murdered for land! Land, John! You forced me to keep my mouth shut! You got me drunk and convinced me that Miranda had been with you! With others! That she was an adulterer! You told me the only way to avoid the shame was to cover it up! To kill her! Yeah, John I WAS weak, but no more lies! No more manipulation, John! This ends Now!”

At that, Charley pulled the trigger, shooting John in the chest. As soon as the bullet touched him, he vanished. Elliot grabbed his chest, a grimace on his face. He hit his knees and I could hear him whimpering.

Like Charley said, this was it. The final bullet. The final part of his soul. I couldn’t imagine what he was feeling, nor did I want to. I knelt down next him and whispered, “It’s alright, Elliot, I’m here. I will always be here”