"Ah, gentlemen. Just who we were coming to see," an older man with a shaved head addresses us before extending his hand. "Jim Bradford, governor of this here establishment."
If he intends to impress us with the announcement of his position, then Governor Bradford's certainly failed, but we reciprocate the introductions. I notice that like the others, he also has a gun holstered under his arm.
"I wanted to personally thank you for agreeing to deliver us those two ships," he continues while steering us toward the exit. Jed, Nelly, and another man follow closely – and silently – behind.
"It's not like we have much of a choice, sir," Ray responds succinctly.
"Of course you do, son! That's the beauty of life. It's full of choices. Now some may certainly be more appealing than others, but I'm glad that we could all come to an agreement on this specific issue."
What a smug bastard, I think to myself, but I play along. "And you're sure that my sister's going to be all right?"
"Absolutely. I've been told that she should be good as new by the time you return." He slaps me on the back in emphasis. "Speaking of which, I think it's just about time for you to set off."
We've reached the glass door, but before proceeding, Bradford pulls out a handheld radio and gives an order. "Lights out, over."
Almost immediately, the hallway goes dark and Jed draws the curtain open.
"Perimeter status check, over," Bradford continues and I absent-mindedly wonder who's on the other end of this communication.
"Roger that, sir. Perimeter appears to be clear," the response soon comes and after unlocking the glass door, Jed steps outside.
"Give him a minute," the governor puts his hand against my chest, stopping me as I begin heading toward the door. I know I'm young, but I'm still used to being dealt with more respect; however, I'm on his turf so I keep my opinions about where he can shove things to myself. So instead, we all watch as Jed runs out into the moonlit night and disappears around the corner. As promised, he's back a short time later.
"They're good to go, sir," he reports back, but as we prepare to leave, the radio breaks the silence.
"Unknown subjects at ten o'clock. I repeat, unknown subjects approaching at ten o'clock. Hold your positions until further notice, over." The voice is agitated and the sentiment affects the group around us.
"Roger that," Bradford responds before quickly re-locking the door. We all take a few steps back, but the shades remain open so we can see what's happening outside. For a few minutes, it amounts to a big, fat nothing until we finally see a dark figure slowly approaching through the parking lot. It's moving at a labored pace and I can't even make out its species until it gets about fifty yards in.
It's human. More specifically, it's a man carrying another person, cradling the limp body in his arms.
I glance at my companions and apart from Ray, they're expressionless – perhaps even to the point of boredom. My friend, however, is watching every move as intently as I suppose I am, squinting his eyes to discern every detail.
When the newcomers are just a few feet away, the man begins yelling and his muffled words send chills down my back.
"Please, help us! Let us in! She's dying. Please don't let her suffer," he begs and I can see that he has tears flowing down his dirty cheeks.
We remain motionless in the shadows and even when he approaches the glass, I'm fairly certain that he can't see us.
"Open up, please! I swear I won't tell anyone. You don't even have to take me - just take her!"
I don't know how the others can stay so disconnected, but I for one am slightly shaking from . . .. What am I shaking from? Is it sympathy? Fright? Disbelief? There are so many emotions running through me, I'm not quite sure.
I know that it's not my place to say anything and if nothing else, that definitely makes me angry. I continue to watch silently as the man puts the woman down.
She briefly stirs as he gently sits her propped up next to a column, but her eyes remain closed. Even then, I can tell that she used to be pretty in spite of the dark circles under them.
The man carefully brushes a wisp of her shoulder length, dark hair from her hollow cheekbone, whispering something to her in the process. I suddenly feel like I'm intruding on something very personal, so I try to focus elsewhere. But everything I see is just sad and depressing. Although he's still able to stand, even his own hair is so thin that the scalp's visible underneath and his hands resemble those of a skeleton more than of a live person.
He slowly returns to the glass door and starts banging on it with both fists, reminding me of myself from just this morning.
"I know you're in there! I know you can help her! Please take my wife's pain away and let her die with dignity," he continues to plead.
I look at Bradford, but he shakes his head.
What is wrong with you? I want to scream, but I know it's useless.
After a few more pounds on the door, the man turns away. I almost believe that he's given up, but he walks past his unconscious wife and heads back toward the parking lot, disappearing into the darkness.
"What's going on?" Ray asks from beside me, but the governor once again raises his hand to signal silence. It's as if he's anticipating something more to happen and a few seconds later, it turns out that he's right.
The gaunt man with the tattered clothing is now holding something above his head. He's walking toward the building, but he's slowly picking up speed as he gets closer. I now see that he's holding a cylindrical object, probably one of the metal trash bins lining the lot. I realize his intentions of breaking down the door just as the governor lifts his radio and mutters a brief, but decisive order.
"Proceed at will, over."
The man is only about twenty yards out when a bright, red dot appears in the middle of his chest. There's just enough time for him to look down and notice the light before a shot rings out.
In a fraction of a second, his knees buckle and he crumples to the ground in front of us.
"What the fuck?" I whisper, not knowing whether to trust my eyes. But even after blinking a few times, I see that the man is still there – not moving and most likely dead.
It's confirmed when the voice on the other end of the radio gives the all-clear.
"Open 'er up, son. We can't be wasting any more time," Bradford instructs Jed, who once again unlocks the door.
I know we're free to go, but I feel like my feet are rooted to the floor when Nelly walks up next to me. I've completely forgotten that she's here too, but as she passes me, she whispers in my ear. "I'm nineteen."
It takes me a second to realize that she's answering my question about her age from this morning, but I can't believe that she thinks that this is a good time to continue that conversation. Before I can grab her, she steps out the door, unholsters her gun, and puts a bullet through the sick woman's head right between the eyes.
It's as clean as they come: an unmistakable kill shot.