we’re gone, you understand that?”
“Okay,” Jim said.
“Wilson, me and you are going to move up with Jim and keep him covered until he gets the girl in the car.” LaRouche slid out of his seat. “And for the record, I still think this is a horrible idea. I just don’t have the time to talk sense into you.”
“Okay,” Wilson cranked the truck out of gear and yanked the emergency brake.
LaRouche looked back at the convoy, held up his hand, palm out: Stay put.
Jim and Wilson piled out. The three of them moved forward, Jim in front, with Wilson to his left and LaRouche to his right. Jim stepped quickly, his rifle slung onto his back, his hands open and exposed to the girl to show that he meant no harm. He put a finger to his lips, trying to tell her to be quiet, but here in the thin morning air her wail bounced from woodline to woodline.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
LaRouche cringed, forced his eyes off of the little girl. He scanned back behind her, then all around them and into the surrounding woods and pastures. Watched for movement. For things rustling through the trees, slipping through the grassy fields.
This is a fucking mistake.
As they pulled up closer to the little girl, she stopped moving forward, but her feet still stamped restlessly, as though she couldn’t figure out what to do with herself. LaRouche edged passed her, giving her only a cursory glance, but noticing how her entire body trembled so violently. From fear or from cold, or both.
Jim knelt down with the girl. “Hey, sweetie…”
“Daddy!” she continued to wail. “I want my daddy!”
“Can you come with me? You’ll be safe with us.”
“Daddy!”
LaRouche glanced back and raised his voice over the girl. “Jim! Grab her and let’s go!”
Jim reached for her. “Okay, sweetie, I’m gonna pick you up and take you back to our car so you can be safe. It’s okay, we’re the good guys. No one’s gonna hurt you.”
She didn’t resist it. Like she was frozen. Like she had no control over herself.
Jim picked her up, cradling her against his shoulder. He turned back for the Humvee and began jogging.
“They’re hurting Daddy!” the girl screamed.
LaRouche looked down the road but couldn’t see anything but the triple columns of smoke. He and Wilson began to move back, following Jim. The girl yelled something else now, but between his rattling gear and huffing breath, LaRouche couldn’t make it out. He turned to Wilson as they ran. “What’s she saying?”
Wilson just shook his head.
Jim reached the vehicle first. He shifted the little girl on his arms and opened his door. LaRouche and Wilson pulled up right behind him and just before Jim set the girl in the Humvee, she yelled again, and this time LaRouche heard what she yelled.
“They’re gonna hurt Daddy on the cross!”
Jim put her in the vehicle and closed the door.
With the girl in the car, LaRouche could hear something he hadn’t been able to hear before, but it was short lived as though the sound had been carried to him on the wind, and it died as quickly as it registered with him. Coming from the direction of the columns of smoke, LaRouche heard people screaming.
Then nothing.
He brought a hand to his head, raked his fingers along his scalp.
“LaRouche…” Jim said.
“We gotta do something,” Wilson jumped in.
LaRouche didn’t argue with them this time. He felt shaky. Liquid on the inside. He just hissed through his clenched teeth and looked back down the road. He knew this was going to happen. He fucking knew it . That’s why he didn’t want to mess with the little girl in the first place. You couldn’t just mess around with parts of the problem. You had to tackle the whole goddamned thing.
Jim put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s the right thing to do.”
Without responding, LaRouche turned and opened his door. He leaned in and snatched the radio handset from its cradle and brought it up to his mouth. “Lucky and Joel. Up front.
“Okay,” Jim said.
“Wilson, me and you are going to move up with Jim and keep him covered until he gets the girl in the car.” LaRouche slid out of his seat. “And for the record, I still think this is a horrible idea. I just don’t have the time to talk sense into you.”
“Okay,” Wilson cranked the truck out of gear and yanked the emergency brake.
LaRouche looked back at the convoy, held up his hand, palm out: Stay put.
Jim and Wilson piled out. The three of them moved forward, Jim in front, with Wilson to his left and LaRouche to his right. Jim stepped quickly, his rifle slung onto his back, his hands open and exposed to the girl to show that he meant no harm. He put a finger to his lips, trying to tell her to be quiet, but here in the thin morning air her wail bounced from woodline to woodline.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
LaRouche cringed, forced his eyes off of the little girl. He scanned back behind her, then all around them and into the surrounding woods and pastures. Watched for movement. For things rustling through the trees, slipping through the grassy fields.
This is a fucking mistake.
As they pulled up closer to the little girl, she stopped moving forward, but her feet still stamped restlessly, as though she couldn’t figure out what to do with herself. LaRouche edged passed her, giving her only a cursory glance, but noticing how her entire body trembled so violently. From fear or from cold, or both.
Jim knelt down with the girl. “Hey, sweetie…”
“Daddy!” she continued to wail. “I want my daddy!”
“Can you come with me? You’ll be safe with us.”
“Daddy!”
LaRouche glanced back and raised his voice over the girl. “Jim! Grab her and let’s go!”
Jim reached for her. “Okay, sweetie, I’m gonna pick you up and take you back to our car so you can be safe. It’s okay, we’re the good guys. No one’s gonna hurt you.”
She didn’t resist it. Like she was frozen. Like she had no control over herself.
Jim picked her up, cradling her against his shoulder. He turned back for the Humvee and began jogging.
“They’re hurting Daddy!” the girl screamed.
LaRouche looked down the road but couldn’t see anything but the triple columns of smoke. He and Wilson began to move back, following Jim. The girl yelled something else now, but between his rattling gear and huffing breath, LaRouche couldn’t make it out. He turned to Wilson as they ran. “What’s she saying?”
Wilson just shook his head.
Jim reached the vehicle first. He shifted the little girl on his arms and opened his door. LaRouche and Wilson pulled up right behind him and just before Jim set the girl in the Humvee, she yelled again, and this time LaRouche heard what she yelled.
“They’re gonna hurt Daddy on the cross!”
Jim put her in the vehicle and closed the door.
With the girl in the car, LaRouche could hear something he hadn’t been able to hear before, but it was short lived as though the sound had been carried to him on the wind, and it died as quickly as it registered with him. Coming from the direction of the columns of smoke, LaRouche heard people screaming.
Then nothing.
He brought a hand to his head, raked his fingers along his scalp.
“LaRouche…” Jim said.
“We gotta do something,” Wilson jumped in.
LaRouche didn’t argue with them this time. He felt shaky. Liquid on the inside. He just hissed through his clenched teeth and looked back down the road. He knew this was going to happen. He fucking knew it . That’s why he didn’t want to mess with the little girl in the first place. You couldn’t just mess around with parts of the problem. You had to tackle the whole goddamned thing.
Jim put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s the right thing to do.”
Without responding, LaRouche turned and opened his door. He leaned in and snatched the radio handset from its cradle and brought it up to his mouth. “Lucky and Joel. Up front.
Similar Books
