The Green Rising

Chapter Thirty-three

Panic set in as the gunman pushed the barrel deeper into my temple. I was certain that if I survived this, I’d have a temporary circular tattoo. At this rate, it had the potential to be a permanent hole in my head.

“I said, ‘Drop your gun.’” His voice meant business, but it sounded tired, and perhaps a little weak. The man definitely had a cold.

I wasn’t going to drop it. He’d have to shoot me first, and for some reason, I didn’t think he wanted me dead. Disarmed, yes. But dead, well, being on the “Capture, Not Kill” list had its perks and I planned to use it to my advantage. “No chance. You want my gun? Take it, but it'll be over my dead body, and some people might not be very happy about that.”

I spun to the left and jabbed my elbow to his ribs. He let out a huge harrumph as he wobbled backwards. I kicked at his feet until he crumpled to the floor. His gun fired before it fell out of his hand, the bullet shearing the top of my coat as it grazed my shoulder. I took aim.

I kept hearing Luc telling me that shooting should come as a last resort, that I should ask questions first. This man wasn’t a threat at the moment. I at least wanted to know his identity.

I shined the flashlight onto his face. Deep-set hazel eyes stared back at me as I towered above him in a state of disbelief.

“Lils,” he said, “is that you?” He lifted himself onto his elbows.

“Dad?” I rushed to him and helped him up. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were going to kill me and when you pressed the gun to my head, I reacted—almost killed you.”

I hugged him tightly, my reach stretching most of the way around his body. Though he was never on the heavy side while he worked as a police officer, he was easily fifty pounds lighter than when I’d seen him last. His salt-and-pepper hair had gone bald, and his cheeks were on the verge of sinking into his face, but his smile remained the same, radiating warmth and happiness. Grime covered his jeans. The parka he wore was tattered in the sleeves and hung loosely over his wrists.

“So you got my text?” I said once Dad pulled away from our embrace.

“Yes, a few weeks ago. I wasn’t sure it was you, but it was worth a try,” he answered. We were silent for what seemed a few minutes, just studying each other. “Lily, why’d you let us believe you were dead?”

“I was scared after the explosion. Rosy was dead. My boyfriend died too. I knew they’d keep coming after me and you and Mom wouldn’t be safe. At the time, making everyone think I was dead felt like the only real option. Now, I’m not so sure. If I’d just gone to you, the greenies wouldn’t be in control of our country.” Tears streamed down my face as I admitted my mistake.

“The greenies were the ones who killed your sister?”

“Yeah. They meant to kill me. It was only because I’d gone inside that I didn’t burn in the car with Jack and Rosy.”

“We looked for Rosy when we discovered her car was missing. When that turned up in Chicago, we thought for sure we had a lead, but the trails went cold from there. No one would talk back then, but we were looking for the wrong daughter.”

“I’m so sorry, Dad. I thought I was doing the best thing for everyone, but we can see how that turned out.” I wanted to change the subject, not dwell on the past. “How did you escape the greenies? You should have been one of the first people on their list.”

He remained quiet, then said, “The weather saved us, that and being so far from town. When your mom and I saw the State of the Union and what was happening, we packed our bags and walked to the old farmhouse. Thought that was our best chance of surviving. We camped out there until the weather cleared. Took one of Mark’s farm trucks, filled it with gas when the power flipped on, and made plans to drive a couple hours each night on back roads. We arrived to the area late last night, but decided it might be stupid to show up in the middle of the night, so your mom and I waited until a few minutes ago.”