Page 41 of Sawyer’s Mistake

Not today.

Sawyer crouched lightly until his fingertips touched the side of his right boot, focusing on the slim blade he kept tucked inside the lining. He gripped the metal between finger and thumb. It was cold to the touch. He straightened with his arm at his side, the substantial weight of the blades familiar in his grip.

The whole move took just over a second, but by the time he was done, Paul was only seconds away from the door. Thankfully he only needed one second. He bent his knees slightly and brought his right arm out until his upper arm was at a ninety degree angle to his body. The blade was loosely balanced between his thumb and middle finger, his pointer finger on the spine of the knife. As he exhaled he brought his hand out and down in a quick, fluid motion. It was an instinctive throw.

The best kind there is.

The blade flew out of his hand and straight towards Paul, embedding itself deeply in his neck. Paul howled and fell out from behind the table. Paul sank to the ground in a growing pool of blood. With nobody holding it, the table rolled a couple more seconds then collapsed on its side.

Sawyer shifted his attention back to the woman, kneeling by her side. She was growing paler by the second, and her eyelids fluttered in a way that let him know she was beyond help.

“Jake,” she whispered. “I’m sorry … I wish everything had … been different.”

He gripped her hand. “It’s going to be okay, Miranda,” he lied, thinking of Saoirse.

She died moments later. Sawyer held onto her hand for an instant longer.

Zander called out from beside Paul’s body.

“He’s dead,” the medic pronounced woodenly. He took the knife out and cleaned it on Paul’s trousers before walking over to Sawyer, who placed it back in his boot before standing to his full height.

Storme turned from the dead bodies to the living people who huddled together, wearing shocked expressions.

“Go pack quickly,” he said, as if speaking to children. “We’ll go find those vehicles for you and bring them closer. That’s all we can do for you. You all need to be out of here by tomorrow morning.”

“What about me?” Amélie asked. She seemed to have aged a decade in the last minute. “Are you going to kill me?”

“We’re not going to kill you,” Sawyer said. He rubbed the pressure cast absentmindedly. “You get to live with the knowledge of what you’ve done.”

“Come with us, Amélie,” Marie asked, tugging on the older woman’s sleeve.

Amélie’s shook off Marie’s hand, her expression went hard. “I think I’ll stay here,” she decided. She went over to the buffet table and started filling her plate.

Storme and Sawyer looked at each other.

“It’s your choice, Amélie. But if you’re here when the Remur get here, they’ll kill you.”

The bearded man was the first to react. “You heard the man. I for one am not going to wait here like a sitting duck for the Remur to come for us.” As he got close to the door, Kopf moved his large body aside to let him through.

The man’s actions rippled through the crowd. The mother with the toddler and the preteen girl came up next.

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. One by one, people started filing out of the dining room.

Marie stopped when she and her husband reached Jake. “Is Saoirse okay?” she asked. Sawyer nodded. “Please tell her we didn’t know.” Then she ducked beside him and left.

Sawyer was the last to leave the room. He hesitated for a moment before closing the door, looking at the older woman, who sat at one of the tables, sipping her dark red wine. She never looked up from her glass.

Chapter 17

Saoirse

Thanks to Prado, who’d rigged the solar panels in the vehicle to the old factory’s well, she’d had three real showers in the last three days, more than in the previous three months. There was even a stash of simple, fragrance-free soap in one of the upstairs maintenance cupboards, which she’d been using liberally. She loved the clean smell. She thought she’d gotten used to washing herself with a damp cloth to get rid of the day’s sweat and grime, but it turned out she’d simply forgotten what real showers felt like or how her curls felt when her hair was squeaky clean.

She knocked softly on Eva’s room. Ever since the others left, Eva had been spending more and more time in her room.

“Are you okay, Eva?”

Eva opened the door a crack. She looked uncharacteristically wan and faded.