The Border Part Eight by Amy Cross Page A

quite able to move. More than anything, he wanted to get out of the farmhouse and run forever, he wanted to run until his legs fell off, but he knew he couldn’t leave just yet, not if there was a chance that Packer would recover. The old man was evil through and through, and while Ben felt sick to his stomach at the thought of actually killing him, he also knew that Packer was the kind of man who’d enjoy his revenge.
    Slowly, Packer reached further until his fingers brushed against the door-frame, as if he was trying to crawl away.
    Ben reached down and picked up the bloodied brick.
    He watched for a moment as Packer’s fingers tried to gain a purchase on the door-frame. The old man shifted slightly, finally getting a grip, but as soon as he began to drag himself along he let out a cry of pain and stopped.
    “I have to do this,” Ben whispered. “I can’t leave you like this.”
    He took a step forward, and then another, until he was standing over the dying man.
    “I’m not a killer,” he stammered, his voice already breaking with fear. “I was just defending myself, if you hadn’t…”
    He paused, feeling a tightening sense of fear in his chest. Staring down at the back of Packer’s head, he could see that a significant chunk of skull had been cracked open during the first impact, and he felt more certain than ever that it was brain matter he could see beneath. A shiver passed through his chest as he crouched next to the old man and leaned over to look into his eyes; sure enough, both pupils were massively enlarged, although a moment later he realized Packer’s lips were moving and he seemed to be whispering something.
    “What’s that?” he asked, leaning closer.
    He waited, and after a few seconds he realized it was nonsense, not even words. Packer was just spilling out a series of sounds, albeit punctuated in a way that made it sound as if he was trying to say something.
    “This isn’t my fault,” Ben continued, holding the brick out, preparing to strike. “The first time was self-defense, and this is just finishing you off. This is me being kind. I can’t leave you this way.”
    He paused.
    Packer continued to whisper. Occasionally, it almost sounded as if an actual word was coming from his lips. “Bird” was one of them, and a few utterances later came “Elevator”, followed by a rising tone that seemed to suggest a question.
    “I’m not a killer,” Ben whispered, taking a deep breath as he tried to work out where to aim. More than anything, he knew he had to strike hard and fast. This time, he had to get the job done, if not for his sake then for the old man’s.
    He paused.
    All of time seemed to come to a standstill around him.
    Finally, with as much force as he could manage, he smashed the brick down into the back of Garland Packer’s head for a second time, and this time blood sprayed up into his face, filling his own eyes and mouth and forcing him to pull back.

I
     
    Today
     
    “Ben? Did you hear what I just said?”
    Blinking a couple of times, Ben realized he’d been staring idly at his own hands for a few seconds. His mind had been empty, or as empty as he could manage. Even when his thoughts were silent, there were always plenty of shadows at the edges. Looking across the room, he saw Jane standing in the doorway holding two shotguns.
    “These are for us,” she continued. “You know how to shoot, don’t you?”
    He paused, with his mouth hanging open, before slowly nodding.
    “Good,” she muttered, stepping over to the kitchen table and setting the guns down. “I’ve got some other weapons in the car and more than enough ammunition. Hopefully we won’t need this stuff, but I’ve got a feeling the people at the Border are going to fight back. The last thing we can do is go in there unprepared, we need to be ready.”
    She took a moment to check one of the guns, before glancing over at Ben again. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
    “Me?” His