Winning His War

33

Now that one of his friends was back, his usually monotone voice was back while he attempted to hide his panic again.

"I wouldn't have just fought, I would have hopped into the back of his car when he wasn't looking and dealt with the consequences when all of this was settled."

"And what would you have done if the house was attacked because you left? Jem might like us and all but he would have killed you if something happened when he told you to stay and you didn't."

Barrett looked like a very nasty word was about to leave his mouth but he must have thought better of it since all he did was shake his head again with a sigh.

No one bothered to say a word after that. Dev continued to twitch and fidget but did so in one place behind the couch as he stared at the TV. Barrett kept himself busy by cleaning a random gun he had magically pulled from underneath the coffee table; another pistol was still pressed against his side though. Patrick moved between picking his nail beds and worrying his bottom lip until both of them were rubbed raw and he couldn't stand to touch them anymore.

I'm sure I was fidgeting just as much as the others but my own nervous tick was a mystery to me and my mind was too busy thinking of what all could be happening to try and solve the mystery at the moment.

All I could think about was the fact that Jem could be dead right now and we wouldn't even know until his body was found; and that's assuming he was dumped somewhere visible.

Before long three cars pulled down the long driveway at an alarming speed. I expect for Devon and Barrett to jump into alarm mode the second they caught a glimpse at the cars but they only sighed in relief.

"That's Jem's car. Thank fucking God," Barrett praised as he closed his eyes and made a silent prayer.

Devon didn't bother muttering a prayer. He was out the door before Patrick and I even had a chance to stand up but by the time Barrett's quick praise was over, the four of us were racing to the living just to make sure we would be looking at a healthy Jem and not a version of him bleeding as he dragged himself inside.

Sadly by the time we made it, there were already people swarming and running around the house at random, making it nearly impossible to see anything that was going on but as Dev began pushing himself through the thickest part of the crowd, Barrett sucked in a loud breath before turning around and stepping right in front of Patrick and I.

"Don't even bother looking," he said as he mirrored me while I tried to get around him. "It's not Jem."

"Then what is it," Patrick asked before I had the chance to. With both of us being taller than Barrett we looked over the top of his head. Patrick went still beside me while I physically felt my jaw drop.

Body after bloody body was being carried down the hall as others began making room so the injured could be carried farther into the house. Some looked so pale they were nearly gray and all but unresponsive, thankfully most of them were, while very clearly in pain, up and talking as they limped quickly to follow the train of dying people.

"Where's Jem," Devon asked loudly, his deep voice commanded everyone who didn't know the answer to go silent, forcing the once panicked and noisy room into one full of order.

"Still at the warehouse."

The answer came from a skittish younger boy who stared down the hall that lead to the left wing, clearly wanting nothing more than to follow the parade of people helping the injured.

"What happened?"

As he told the story, both Devon and Barrett listened closely for any piece of a secrets message but when they found nothing they grew even more frustrated.