A Better World

CHAPTER 22

“Wake up.”

Ethan’s eyes snapped open.

A shotgun was pointed at his head.

His brain was still swimming up from sleep, and his first thought was, Jesus, not again with a gun pointing at me.

He moved without thinking, starting to sit up.

Jeremy racked the shotgun.

It was a horrifying sound, one he’d never heard in real life, and it made his fingers tingle and his belly go cold. Beside him, Amy gasped.

“Quiet.” Jeremy swiveled the shotgun to her. His face was tight, lips squeezed white.

“What is this? What are you doing?”

“Get up.”

“Jeremy,” Amy said, “what’s going on?”

“I said get up. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will.”

Slowly, Ethan slid a hand down to his waist, touched the butt of the pistol. It was warm from contact with his skin. He thought, Ease it out, aim upward through the sleeping bag, and . . .

What? Blast away like a gangster? He’d never fired a gun in his life. The inaugural occasion was going to be at a human being, one who seemed quite comfortable behind the shotgun pointing at Amy?

What if you miss?

He let go of the gun. Nodded. “Okay. Easy.” Ethan stood slowly, making sure the hem of his shirt draped to cover the gun. He reached down and helped Amy to her feet.

Violet made a snorting sound in her sleep, and they all jumped.

If he so much as glances in her direction, pull out the pistol and fire.

“Now what?”

“Get your girl and go.”

He had a moment of pure relief. “Okay. Give us one minute to pack our gear, and we’ll be out of your life forever.”

“No.”

“What?”

“Leave everything. Just walk out of here.”

“You’re . . . this is a robbery?”

“Told you, these are the last days. World’s falling down around us. Money, sleeping bags, a tent, whatever else you have, it might save my family’s life.”

“You’re not serious,” Amy said. “Where’s Margaret?”

“In the morning I’ll tell her I found you looting our cabinets, ran you out.”

“What will you tell her if you shoot us?”

The man’s expression hardened. He turned and spat the toothpick. “Same thing.”

“You’re a piece of shit, Jeremy.” Amy’s eyes blazed. “A coward. You’re what’s wrong.”

“I’m a man looking out for his family, that’s all.”

“No,” Amy said. “My husband is a man. You’re a—”

“Honey,” Ethan said gently. “Let’s go.”

She looked at him, fury shining in her. Ethan flicked his eyes downward to where Violet slept. Amy caught the gesture and swallowed whatever she’d been about to say.

“Can we put our shoes on?”

“Coulda. Before you mouthed off. Now you just get your little one and get out.”

Amy shook her head, then bent down and picked up their daughter. She squirmed and started crying. Ethan’s right hand tingled, the gun seeming to pull at it.

You’re not a criminal. All the man wants is stuff. If you can walk out of here without violence, do it.

Jeremy followed them up the stairs, the shotgun leveled.

At the front door, Amy turned to him. “You said grace last night.”

“So?”

“So God damn you.” She turned and strode out the door. Ethan wasn’t sure if he’d ever been more in love with her than he was at that moment. It made him want to yank out the gun and blaze away, to shoot until he was out of ammo and then stand over Jeremy’s body and keep pulling the trigger.

Instead, he followed her into the night. Thinking, It’s not about you. It’s not about feeling like a man. It’s about being one.

That means doing whatever it takes to protect them. Whatever it takes.