by J.P Jackson
*
Taylor and Donald moved together through a corridor of rocky walls and halogen light. Wertz followed at a safe distance, gun trained on their backs.
"Did Lanza leave me anything?” Taylor asked, picturing Penelope. “A letter? A note?”
Donald shrugged. “All he left was a big mess.”
"Penelope is out there somewhere, Donald. I just needed more time.”
Donald patted his brother's back as they reached the cafeteria. It was quiet and filled with children, fast asleep on made up mattresses and sleeping bags.
"What's the hold up?” Wertz asked, suspiciously.
Taylor looked back. “Give me a minute. Please.”
Wertz saw Taylor's sincerity and rested his back against the rock. Taylor returned his eyes to the cafeteria and smiled when he spotted the red headed Michael Hopkins and the others from the school bus. What warmed Taylor's heart however, was the peaceful sight of his sleeping nephews, Cameron and Lucas. Sylvia lay between the boys, with faraway eyes as she held them close.
"You want me to wake them?” Donald whispered. “They'll want to see their uncle.”
Taylor shook his head. “I want you to join them. You go no further.”
Donald was ready to argue when Taylor interrupted. “Your future is here, with those boys. Mine is outside.”
Tears filled Donald's eyes and Taylor pulled him in close. “Thanks for looking after me,” he whispered, rubbing his brother's cheek.
With that, Taylor sucked in his own tears and set off for a waiting helicopter, a revenge filled lion, and a world under arrest.
