My finger was on the trigger.
The sights were still trained on the man—on the red mass spreading out from his chest, covering the place where his heart should have been. He lay so still, as if he might be resting, the knife still glistening—shiny and clean—in his outstretched hand.
“Cammie!” It was Liz’s voice. “Cammie, Bex…Cammie!” she yelled. I heard her running up the hill, and then she came to a sudden stop. “Oh my gosh,” she said, staring at the body at Bex’s feet. I heard her begin to gag and vomit, but I didn’t look away from the man who lay lifeless on the ground.
There was a weight on the rifle, a tug, but I held it steady, kept the assassin in my sights.
“Cammie,” Zach said, pulling harder on the barrel. I didn’t know where he’d come from or how long he’d been there, but his voice was in my ear, sounding worried and afraid. “Cammie, give me the gun.”
“Give it to him.” Abby and my mother were running along the ridge toward us. Abby yelled, “Now!”
And only then did I feel like it was okay to let the rifle—and my defenses—fall.
Abby walked to the body and called to my mother. “Rachel, any others?”
“No. I think he’s alone.”
“Well, he might not be alone for long.” Abby took the gun from Zach and yelled, “Everyone, get to the van.”
“Cam?” My mother was looking at me. “Cammie, sweetheart, are you hurt?”
I wasn’t hurt. I was numb. And I liked it.
Mom shook my shoulders. “Cammie, you need to—”
“Rachel,” Abby snapped, cutting her off. “We have to go. Now.”
Bex walked to the body and started digging through the gunman’s pockets.
“He’s clean, Bex,” Zach told her. “He wouldn’t make the mistake of coming here with anything he couldn’t be found with. He was too good for that.”
“I’ve got to check—”
“He’s clean.” Zach shook his head and turned to Liz, put his arm around her, and started up the hill. “Liz, we have to go.”
“Cammie killed him,” she said, the color gone from her already pale face.
“He’s not a good man, Liz,” Zach said, turning her around. He made her stare into his eyes. “He is not a good man. It’s good that he’s dead.”
“It’s good,” Liz repeated.
“I don’t know who he is,” Zach told her. “I don’t know why he’s here, but I know Abby’s right. We have to go.”
“We know something.” My voice was frail, as if it were just a shadow who was speaking.
Liz looked at me. “What?”
“We know they don’t need me alive anymore.”
Chapter Fifteen
What I said to my mom: I’m fine.
What I said to my aunt: It’s okay.
What I said to the doctor: It doesn’t hurt.
But I wasn’t fine. It wasn’t okay. And it did hurt. Everywhere. Even in the darkness of the suite, hours later, I could feel my roommates watching me. So I closed the bathroom door and turned the shower on high, the pounding of the water drowning out the pounding of my thoughts as I gripped the sink and leaned closer to the girl in the mirror.