My Sister's Keeper

Chapter 55

What was it all about? Why was I even born?

"If only I could have gotten that gun," I sighed.

"It wouldn't have mattered," Sydney panted. "It didn't w—"

Our vessel abruptly lurched forward and plunged several feet before smacking the water of the canal bashing us against the walls of the drum like a baseball meeting a bat. The centrifugal force of our weight carried the tank deep into the water before it popped back to the surface bobbing like a cork. The side of the drum became cooler giving me a trace of comfort, a smidgeon of hope.

"Hey!" Scott called from a short distance away. "You say it's getting a little hard to breathe in there, Sydney darling?"

"Don't answer him," I panted.

"Maybe you could use a couple of air holes." He sounded delirious.

The first shot caught the corner of the drum ripping through the thick plastic creating a circle of light near my face, the impact reverberating through the drum. The glowing, red hot lead buried itself in the wall melting the plastic and sliding down the wall burning the flesh on my arm.

"Go ahead! Shoot me! Please!" Sydney screamed wrestling for room, for air, for cool. "I can't take it!"

The second bullet thumped into the drum and Sydney flinched. "Oh, God, that hurts," she moaned holding her breath.

I felt trapped. Powerless. Castrated! Rage swept through me like a hot wind on a wild fire. "You hit Sydney!"

"Don't," she hushed me as she drew short labored breaths, her body trembling against mine.

A volley of four more rounds smashed into the barrel and molten lead seared into our flesh as cold water mercifully spewed in behind it—so cold that it, too, burned.

"Oh, Sydney, I'm so sorry. I just wanted to get a picture. I thought that maybe for once something would work out in my favor." I choked back tears. "If I'd just...gotten my hands on that...gun."

"I told you," she panted, her voice growing faint. "The gun didn't work. I tried it."

"The gun under the barrels?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Right after he knocked you out...when he reloaded his gun. I pointed it at him and pulled the trigger, but it wouldn't work. I tried it three times before he turned around."

Outside, we heard shouting. "Shhh. Listen." Men's voices, shouting. Through the hole in front of me I could see lights flickering through the tree tops. Blue, red, white. "Sydney, the police are here!" We shouted and beat the drum. A shot rang out, then more shots. Hand guns. Shotguns. Tear gas launchers. As the tank bobbed in the canal, I watched the scene unfold through my tiny window and relayed it to Sydney. I saw an officer take a hit, heard the faint crackle of fire igniting, and watched the barn as it went up in flames.

They couldn't hear us and no one knew we were there.

As the oxygen diminished, I had difficulty thinking. I tried to get my mouth closer to the hole in front of me to suck air through it, but couldn't reach it and choked on what filled my lungs. The cold water had reached my knees and the euphoria I'd felt when the police arrived evaporated.

Sydney whispered, "We're going to die, aren't we?"

I shuttered and gasped for air. "Ironic isn't it?"

"What?" she breathed.

"I finally have something to live for."

She whispered, "Me, too."

Of all the unjust tragedies I'd witnessed in my life, this was the most unjust. Sydney was so innocent. She had molded a fabulous life for herself...had a...successful...business...and...

Starving for oxygen, I drifted in and out of consciousness.

Think!

"Sydney? What'd you do with that gun?" I coughed.

She panted rapidly. "I...hid it...in...my..."

"Where?"

"It's..." She fell silent.

"Sydney, where is it? Where's the gun?"

"It's...it's..."

"Do you have it? Is it here?"

"What?"

I must have been getting some oxygen through that hole. I wasn't thinking too well, but at least I could still think. "The gun. Is it here?"

"It's..."

"Where, Sydney? Where's the gun?"

Her voice was faint. "Under...my...shirt."