by Lucas Coon
"He's right though Kayla. You know she won't go out there. You know that she would stick around. He has a point that it may be easier to just do it now." Mitchell didn't want to agree, but he had to.
"So we're just going to shoot her? We're just going to take her outside and put a bullet between her eyes?" She started to cry again. "We're just going to stoop to the level of murderers and call it a mercy killing?"
"Would you rather she die quickly from us, or slowly from that parasite as it eats away at her brain?" Darren offered the ultimatum. Kayla stopped sobbing for a moment. Mitchell guessed that she realized a quick death was better than the other end of the spectrum.
"I'm not doing it." She stated the obvious. "You want to be a murderer, then you do it Darren. I'm not killing anyone."
"I'll do it Kayla. I don't want to, but we have to protect each other and letting an infected person stay with us or wander outside of our door will not end well." Darren wiped his face in frustration.
"No, I'll do it." Mitchell spoke up. They both looked at him puzzlingly. "I don't know her. I have no personal connections to her. It would just be easier on all of us if I do it. I'll take her down to the second floor, and I'll do it. That way when we leave nobody has to see it, nobody has to even think about it." Mitchell couldn't believe he was volunteering to be the executioner to a woman that had committed no crime other than being alive. His thoughts were a whirlwind of what exactly he was getting himself into.
"Mitchell I can't expect you to do it, it wouldn't be right. I will take care of it." Darren's sentence started out with confidence, but drifted into a blended mix of anger, sadness, and anxiety. Clearly he didn't want to do this, nobody did. Mitchell couldn't figure out how this situation could be easy on anyone. If Kayla did it, she would have to live with knowing that she killed one of her friends, potentially her only remaining living friend. If Darren did it, then he would have to live with the tension between him and his wife. Mitchell had no connection to this woman, nor really any connection to the couple fighting over who was going to put the bullet between the eyes of the poor old lady. He was the only person that could do it and get away with minimal negative impact. The only person that would hate him would be himself.
"No. I won't let either of you do this. I'm going to be one to take care of this situation. None of us want to do this, but we all know we have to.” Mitchell put his hand in his pocket and felt his pistol. His hand nudged something else but he wasn't entirely sure what it was. He felt it over and quickly remembered. "Kayla, you get Lilly in here and talk to her about what's going on. Clearly don't tell her what we're doing, but, dammit, tell her something. Darren, you stand by the door and wait for me." He looked the two over and waited for any indication of understanding. They both looked around sheepishly. He ignored this fact and stepped toward the door. He looked for Claire and found her standing in the same area that she was standing in before. He continued to survey the room and saw Lilly on the other end of the room playing with some toy that she had deemed as Mr. Candy. From what he could see, the doll was a colorful robot that had moving arms and legs. He wasn't sure why she would have named it Mr. Candy, but he decided that the name fit. He stood in the middle of the two and thought about his situation. To his left; an older woman, hitting the end of her life, everything brought to a grinding halt by the infection. To his right; a young girl with all the potential in the world, but with the same fate. The opposite ends of the spectrum were standing within a couple hundred feet of each other, one knowing all too well the reality of the situation and one completely unknowing. The guilty and the innocent.
He walked over to Claire and looked back over his shoulder. Kayla motioned to Lilly to join her in the office and she shut the door. Darren stood directly behind Mitchell looking forward, staring into nothing. Mitchell looked directly at the frightened woman, and decided to explain to her what was going on.
"Claire, we've talked it over and decided what has to be done. You are infected with a currently incurable parasite and, based on what I saw, you are well on your way to a full infection. Assuming that we are not mistaken, you have less than twenty-four hours until you lose control to the parasite. We can't let you leave here without risking our own lives and there's nothing we can do to help you at this point, other than to end it for you." Mitchell made this statement with a painful lump in his throat. Claire refused to look at him through the tears still streaming down her cheeks. She knew that he was right but didn't want to accept it.
"I will be the one to..." He cleared his throat. "Escort you out." This caused her to turn her head to look at Mitchell. This man that she didn't even know was going to kill her. She'd known him less than a day, and he had handed her a death sentence. On top of that, he was going to carry it out. She couldn't bring herself to say anything to him. She wiped her eyes and stood straight. Mitchell understood that this was his cue to get it all over with.
They both walked to the door with Darren following close behind. They got to the door and Darren stopped them.
"Mitchell, are you sure that you're going to be able to do this?"
"Yeah. You stay here and I'll do what needs to be done." Mitchell was still having trouble getting his words to come out. "Second floor, so it's out of the way." This sounded terrible coming from his mouth. He felt like he was taking out trash or discarding an unwanted item. He started to feel sick to his stomach.
"Right. I'll, uh, I'll be here waiting. Three sets of two when you knock. You know the drill." Was this what had to happen? Was this what they had to do?
Mitchell grabbed the door's handle, and turned it. The sound of the door opening was a painful one. The high-pitched creaking of the door's heavy hinges was dizzying. It was the sound of the first step towards him being a murderer. If everything ever went back to the way it was, how would he live with himself? Would he be legally pardoned for killing someone that was infected but hadn't turned yet? Did the laws of our modern society apply to the current situation, or was this the purist form of anarchy possible? There was no one to enforce laws and nobody was going to come to haul him away for what he was about to do, but once order all came back, would he go before a judge and jury and be condemned for life for the slaughter of one Harold Barnes, and the planned murder of the nice older lady known as Claire. Well, if he was thrown in jail, at least he'd probably share a cell with Darren.
Claire and Mitchell exited the door of the third floor. It shut tightly behind them and the lock made its loud clicking noise. The second step of the murder plot. Claire walked down the first set of stairs, turned face and walked down the second set. She stopped at the landing of the second floor. She took a deep breath in as she tried to pull herself together. Mitchell was wondering how she remained calm and collective when she knew she was about to die. He assumed it was less remaining calm, and more so acceptance of the situation. She knew that she was going to die regardless of how it went down, it was just a matter of time.
"Do you want me to go into the room?" Claire inquired to the location of her demise.
"Right here is fine." Mitchell answered with a straight face. He attempted to remain emotionless as Claire turned and faced away from him. She took another deep breath in and held it for a couple of seconds. "Claire, what is your last name?"
"Barnes." She wasn't sure why he was asking, it really didn't matter at this point in time. She assumed that he was just making small talk to make the job easier. She didn't want to keep going with it. "Just get it over with Mitchell." She took yet another deep breath and thought about everything that she had done in her life. She had a long marriage that was great. She and Harold had been together since they got out of high school. They had three great children, two daughters and a son, all of which had grown up and moved on with their lives. She had three beautiful grandchildren that she loved with all of her heart. She had held her job with Medical Technologies United for longer than almost anyone there. She wasn't in a high position, but she had been offered promotions
several times. She always declined and suggested someone else to get the position. She never wanted to be a big name in the company, she was just happy to work with the people she did. At this point, she had none of it, so she had accepted that it was her time. She heard the clicking of a handgun being prepared to be shot and she clenched her eyes shut as tightly as she could. Within seconds she heard the sound of the trigger clicking, the explosion of the firing mechanism and the sound of a bullet flying out of the chamber.
For a few seconds everything was quiet. Mitchell lowered his arm and continued his forward emotionless glare. He looked in his hand at the metal object he was holding. He wiped his face of the collection of sweat and tears that had started to gather on his forehead, in his eyes and down his cheeks. He sniffled in and coughed. The smoke was still billowing from his gun, he could see it out of the corner of his eye. He guessed that putting it back in his pocket would be a bad idea. He looked up and saw a hole in the door where the bullet had traveled. 'Darren's going to notice that.' he thought to himself. He cleared his throat and attempted to shove the lump back down.
"Officer Harold Barnes is your husband, isn't he?" He looked forward at Claire, who was still standing completely tense. She opened her eyes.
"Wh...Why didn't you shoot me?" She turned around and looked at him. "What are you doing?"
"Claire, I know you're infected and I know what's going to happen to you, but I can't do it. You've done nothing to deserve being murdered. I understand why this all had to happen, but I can't end another person's life like this." He held the badge out to her. "Harold Barnes. He's your husband right?" She looked down at the badge, then back at him. "Here, take it." He offered it to her.
"How...why do you have Harold's badge?" She gripped it tightly and looked at Mitchell confused.
"Well...I..." Mitchell stopped for a moment. 'Should I tell her he's dead? I can't tell her that I killed him. Maybe I should tell her that we found it on him at the diner.' He tried to decide what to tell her, then it came to him. He told her what he would want to hear about his loved ones if he were in her situation.
"I ran into him out there. He was helping people and I think he dropped it at some point. I couldn't find him to give it back to him, so I just kept ahold of it hoping I could find him to give it back." Mitchell smiled. 'Yeah, that'll work.'
"You mean my Harry is still alive out there?" Her face lit up. He knew that she was well aware of the short amount of time she had left, but this was a beam of hope. Even if she passed, knowing that he was out there was something to hold on to. Mitchell could easily identify with this.
"Yeah, he was helping out with evacuations. I didn't go with him because I was looking for my wife, but, yeah, he was out there helping people. I'm sure that you're the only thing on his mind right now. I'm sure he's sitting somewhere thinking about you and hoping to find you." He was trying to put himself in her place and Aria in Harold's. It worked, although it got him emotional. He could feel himself starting to drown in his own tears. "Yeah, he's out there. I'm sure he's somewhere out there."
"That's so great to hear. Even though I won't see him again, it just feels good to know that he's out there and saving other people. I guess that's something to hold on to as I die, huh?" She brought up her impending death.
"Maybe you won't change. Maybe you'll get out there and you'll be immune or something. You never know..." He looked at the ground. How many more lies could he tell her? "I bet he went east." He pointed her in the opposite direction of the diner. "I heard that's where they were evacuating people." He smiled at her again, trying to force some sort of optimism through his pain. "But, Claire, you need to leave and not come back. You know that right? If you do turn and you are still here, I can't stop what happens. I suggest you just go east and keep going. Don't look back."
"I'll do that." She smiled at Mitchell through her tears. "Thank you. I'm going to, um, leave." She turned around and started to walk slowly. Mitchell watched her head down to the front door and out the front of the building. He hoped that she would keep her word, otherwise it would be hard to explain to Darren why he didn't do it.
Mitchell took a deep breath and turned around. He exhaled as he started his trip up the stairs.
Chapter 10 – The Next Step
"So, Mr. Swartz, why do we fight so many wars?" The first day of class and the curiosity was already beginning. This was the way Mitchell had loved for the years to start. He could tell, typically within the first week, who was going to actually care about what he was going to teach in his lessons.
"Well, that depends. Do you mean us as in the United States or we as in people?" Mitchell wasn't sure that the answer would change regardless.
"I mean people in general. I don't understand why we kill each other over stupid things?" Mitchell thought this question over for a moment.
"That is actually a fantastic question. Why do we kill each other? Class?" He walked to the front of the class and uncapped one of his markers. He wrote "Reasons for war" on the board in front of him and turned around; no one had their hands up. "Come on guys, let's get some answers." He kept his eyes on the young adults in the room. This was his midday freshman class and, while he may have diverted from his expected lecture, he preferred the open discussion. Looking over the fourteen-year-olds, he could almost smell the nervousness. Was no one in this class outspoken? Not even the kid that had asked the question?
"Alright. Since no one wants to have this discussion, go ahead and open your books to page seventeen and we'll read the introduction." He grabbed the eraser and moved to erase what he had written.
"Money?" A young girl’s voice shot towards him from the back of the room. He turned to see who said it. He saw a girl sitting in the back, almost blushing. She had long dark blond hair and glasses.
"What's your name again young lady?" Mitchell knew that it took courage to be the first to speak in these cases, and wanted her to be properly congratulated.
"Um... It's Madison." He voice broke in the middle of her sentence.
"Well, Madison, congratulations. Since you opted to speak out first, you get a pass on tonight's assignment." She smiled widely and he smirked back. He knew that this would always get the class riled up enough to respond to him. As expected the rest of the class moaned in a disappointed manner. "Well, maybe if you guys spoke up it could've been you. Now, does anyone want to continue this, or is money going to be the only answer?" He turned and wrote money under the title, and turned back to see if there were any other responders. He called on the first student he saw with their hand up.
"Oil." The young man's voice chirped in.
"Isn't that the truth?" He wrote it.
"Greed."
"Well...” He thought about the answer. “...that goes with money, but it's technically different." He drew a line between money and greed.
"Poverty!"
"Yes!" He wrote poverty and drew a line between it, money and greed. "Let's move away from money though. Why else do countries wage war?"
"Freedom."
"That is an incredibly perfect answer." He wrote revolution and freedom on the board.
"Jealousy."
"Fair enough. There have been cases of war when one country wanted what another had." Mitchell wrote it. “That's leaning back towards greed though.”
"Just because." This answer perked Mitchell's ears. He turned back to the class.
"Who said that?" A young man raised his hand. He had tightly cut brown hair. He was thin, and looked like he would be lanky if he stood erect. "Could you elaborate on what you mean? You said that we fight wars just because. What do you mean by that?"
"Oh, uh, nothing. I didn’t mean it." He withdrew himself.
"No, no, no. You're not wrong. In fact, despite all of these answers being correct, you may have the only one that's right. I just need you to better explain what you mean." Mitchell pulled a chair up and sat in it looking directly at the young man.
"Well... I...” The boy sheepishly
stuttered. “I don't really think that there's a good reason to ever fight a war. I mean, it's just stupid to kill another person over money, or their freedoms. Isn't it?" This was what Mitchell had hoped for.
"Precisely, war is stupid. I can't make a political statement to you guys, but I think we can all agree on that. Now, I asked you for reasons for war and all of these are perfect, but now I want to know, is there a good reason for war? Is there ever a justifiable reason to engage in war?"
"Self-defense." The girl sitting next to the boy that originally asked the question chimed in. "I think it would be OK, only if they were attacked first."
"So, war is OK if a country is attacked first? That would make the initiating country wrong on all counts, is that correct?"
"Well, yeah. I mean if you are attacking someone, then you're a bad person. So it's only OK to attack back if you are attacked first." She tried to express her thoughts thoroughly. Mitchell knew what she meant.
"OK, I get what you mean." He sat there looking the class over. This was a bright bunch. This conversation alone had proven to him that they were willing to discuss the current state of affairs and were more than able to engage in stimulating conversations. He liked this group. "This was a great conversation guys. Please, always feel free to ask a question if you think that it will become a discussion. I don't want you all to be bored in my class just because it's a social studies class. If you guys have something to bring up, current events, history questions, please do so." He looked them over once more. "Alright. We still have to read though." The class collectively moaned. "I know, I know. It'll go quick I promise. So, on page seventeen, we'll start where it says "Throughout history". Tyler, if you would please start for us." Tyler began reading the paragraph as he was asked. Mitchell smiled over the group of young teens. 'There is a lot of potential in this group.'
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