Just a Little Series (Part 1)

by Tracie Puckett

“Hannah, no!” Derek yelled, “Put the gun down.”

  “Not until she’s dead,” Hannah said, eerily calm. “Not until I finish what Daddy started.”

  “Hannah!” her brother said. “Don’t talk like that.”

  Luke pulled me back slowly, shielding my body with his. He took a step backward, lightly forcing me against the far wall and covering me completely from Hannah’s aim.

  My body shivered behind his, and I could feel him gently pressing himself against me to assure me, as much as he could, that I was safe. He reached back and took my hand, squeezing my fingers for a brief moment before letting go.

  “Hannah,” Luke stepped forward an inch.

  “Stay back,” she yelled, waving the gun higher.

  “Hannah,” Luke continued, and he was just as calm as she’d been when she walked in a few minutes earlier,“you don’t want to do this, right? Put the gun down.”

  “Listen to him,” Derek pleaded with his sister.

  “Stop it!” she yelled at both of the men, taking a step to the side to get a better view of me. “You,” she said, still aiming the gun, “step out here. I want to see your face when I kill you.”

  “Hannah,” Derek tried to reason with his sister, “she’s an innocent girl. She’s a victim, just like us. She had nothing to do with what happened.”

  “She’s his daughter,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “I was born without my father because of what he did.”

  “He was doing his job,” Derek argued. “You know Dad was messed up, Hann—”

  “I had to live my entire life with my father behind bars,” she said, meeting my stare. “So you’re not a victim. You had your dad.”

  “Hannah,” I stepped out from behind Luke. He reached out to pull me back, but I stopped his hand. “This is my fight.”

  “You hate your dad for not protecting your mother,” Luke whispered. “I’m not going to let you hate me for not protecting you.”

  “I’m okay,” I said, and I turned back to her immediately.

  Even with the weapon still aimed in my direction, I was surprisingly composed. I saw the pain in her eyes, but pain didn’t equate to violence. Part of me had trouble believing Hannah had it in her to harm another human being. But when I considered that Dad had thought the same thing about her father, I felt my heart sink a little.

  “Hannah, please put the gun down. We have much more in common than you might actually believe, and I really think it would do us some good to talk this out.”

  “Talk this out? I don’t want to talk this out with you,” she said. “I want to kill you.”

  “What good would that do?” I asked. “What problem would that solve? My dad arrested your father, your dad killed my parents, and now the playing field is level, okay? Both of our parents are at fault for what we’ve lost, so why carry this any further? You can’t let your life be ruled by this, Hannah. You have to live your life in spite of tragedy.”

  A tear slid down her face, and as she lowered the gun, I took a step forward to continue. “Your dad wouldn’t want you to make the same mistakes he made.”

  “Don’t—tell—me—what—my—dad—would—want,” she screamed, raising the gun again. “He’d want me to kill you.”

  The room fell silent, and I felt Luke’s hand grasp my wrist. He stepped behind me, and his body ran along the backside of mine: strong, firm, and completely unwavering. If he had lost his cool, there was no indication.

  “Jules,” he whispered, almost so quietly that I didn’t hear him, “when I say go, go. Get out of this house, and don’t look back.”

  “No,” I cried, and my voice shook, “she’ll shoot you.”

  “What are you saying to her?” Hannah asked Luke, now pointing the gun at him.

  I felt him tap one finger on my back. Then two. When his third tap came, he yelled GO, and I ran for the door.

  Before my hand had time to grasp the knob, an explosion of gunfire stopped me dead in my tracks, followed by a loud thud as something shook the floor beneath my feet. My ears ached as the sound of a second shot enveloped the room.

  I turned to see Derek fighting his sister for the gun, both of them rolling on the floor. He pinned her on the ground and struggled to keep her finger from the trigger, but Hannah wasn’t going down without a fight.

  She shot the gun again, this time the bullet zipping past Derek’s head and embedding itself in the living room ceiling. I turned to yell for Luke to interfere, but he was no longer standing where I’d left him. I surveyed the room, but it was like he’d vanished into thin air.

  My eyes fell to the floor, and I suddenly felt my world start crashing down.

  Luke was lying on the carpet near the struggling siblings, unresponsive as blood spilled from his chest.

  “Luke!” I screamed, running to his side, no longer concerned about the fight happening between Derek and Hannah. I fell to my knees and took his face in my hands, tears falling from my eyes to his as I wept uncontrollably over his motionless body. “Luke, please. Oh, God, please Luke—”

  “Julie,” Derek screamed, still fighting his sister. “Call 9-1-1.”

  I left Luke long enough to run to the phone and dial the number; most of my screams were slurred, incomprehensible sentences, but I stressed that Officer Reibeck had been shot and was unresponsive. I gave the address, threw the phone, and fell back at his side.

  I held his head in my lap, weeping over his body and pressing down on the wound. Hannah’s first bullet had been aimed to stop Luke from charging her, and it’d hit him in the chest just short of missing his heart.

  “Luke,” I cried, watching his blood seep through my fingers as I applied more pressure to his chest. “Luke. Please, please don’t leave me.” Through jagged breaths and tears, I tried to find the strength to stay calm. “I love you, Luke. You can’t leave me. I need you.”

  The seconds ticked by, each one slower than the one before and just when I’d given up hope for any sign of life, Luke’s eyelids flittered open and he looked at me through the half-open slits.

  “Jules,” he whispered, but his voice was raspy and his breathing was jagged, “I’m sorry.”

  “Luke,” I said, still holding him, “stay awake. There’s an ambulance on the way. They’re going to be here any second to take you to the hospital. Just hang in there, okay? Please.”

  “Jules,” he said again, his voice weak as his consciousness faded, “I’m losing a lot of blood.”

  “Stay awake,” I said again. “Just listen to me. Try to keep your eyes open.”

  “Julie,” he managed to lift his right arm. He cupped my face with his hand and squeezed as tight as he could, but his strength was simply gone. He whispered something again, but I couldn’t make out his words. He closed his eyes, but his mouth still moved. I leaned closer to him, hoping to decipher his barely audible whispers. His eyes opened again, and I leaned in as close as I could.

  “Luke,” I said, my tears falling onto his cheeks, “I love you, do you hear me? And if you die…”

  “I’m not going to die,” he whispered. “I promise.”

  He lifted his head far enough for his lips to brush mine. With tears streaming down my cheeks and across our lips, I reluctantly eased into his kiss. When I felt his strength slipping away, I tried to pull back, but he held me as close as he could and parted his lips, allowing for our kiss to deepen.

  When he couldn’t find the strength to carry on, I pulled away from him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes again and managed a faint smile.

  The sound of crashing filled the air, and again it was the gun. But it hadn’t been shot. Derek stood over his sister’s unconscious body, wielding the handgun as tears filled his eyes.

  “Derek?” I watched Hannah’s body for a few long beats, noticing only a slight movement in her chest.

  “I knocked her out,” he said as if he couldn’t believe what he’d done. “She’s unconscious.” He dropped the gun to the floor and r
ushed to my side.

  Luke turned his head away as his breathing became more and more shallow. The warmth of his breath subsided. The heavy movement in his chest desisted. But the blood kept pouring, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  As I heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance, I ran my fingers through Luke’s hair, crying over his still body.

  “Luke, please,” I begged, “please don’t leave me.”

  Derek kneeled next to Luke, grabbing his wrist and feeling for a pulse. He leaned down and pressed his ear to Luke’s bloody chest, and after a few faint seconds, looked back at me with tears welling in his eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Julie,” he said. “He’s gone.”