One Second After [62]
John looked at the two as the door closed and realized when he made eye contact with Bruce, barely remembered but still a former student, there was one thing he could not do.
He saw Washington with Jeremiah and Phil and walked up to them.
"Washington, I need your help. God, do I need it," and John told him.
Washington nodded, saying nothing, and got into the car with John, Kate,
Phil, and Jeremiah squeezing into the backseat, Charlie up front with Washington and John.
The two vehicles set off and as they turned onto Montreat Road and then the side street over to the park, he saw people walking fast, heading for the park, others just standing there, staring.
"Killing is a sin!" someone shouted as he drove slowly, following the van that was dragging along at not more than five miles an hour.
It was like a damn procession out of the French Revolution, he thought.
They rolled down the steep hill to the corner of the park, a large crowd already gathered by the tennis courts and the concrete practice wall painted white, bits of paint flecking off.
The two were led out of the back of the van and all fell silent.
Swallowing hard, John stopped the car. He looked over at Washington.
"Just aim straight at the chest, sir," Washington said. "You try for the head and you're shaking at all you'll miss. First shot to the chest, he'll collapse. They don't go flying around like in the movies; usually they just fall over or sag down to the ground. Once he's on the ground, then empty the clip; just empty it. If you have your wits about you put the last shot into the head. Do you understand me, sir?"
Washington handed the Glock to him.
"A round is chambered."
John nodded.
He got out of the car and the crowd separated back, opening a lane, the two prisoners ahead of them. Bruce was crying, begging, Larry silent, Reverend Black holding Bruce's arm while Tom had Larry in a tight grip.
"This is wrong, Charlie!" someone shouted.
And there was an angry mutter, shouts back, arguments breaking out.
The condemned were led to the wall and placed against it.
More shouts from the crowd, some against, most for, a few yelling to string the guilty up rather than shoot them.
Sickened, John looked around, and before he even realized what he was doing he raised the gun straight up in the air and fired.
Bruce let out a scream of terror and collapsed to his knees. There were cries from the crowd and then silence, all eyes on John.
"I have been appointed to do something I never dreamed of in my worst nightmares!" John shouted.
No one spoke now.
"I will confess to you, one of these men I cannot bring myself to shoot;
he was once a student of mine. I have asked Mr. Parker, a former marine sergeant major, to do that task for me and he will do it."
"Our world has changed ...," and John's voice trailed off, but then he raised his head. "But this is still America. I want to believe this is still America.
"We are at war. Mr. Fuller will hold a town meeting this evening in the elementary school gym and share with you the latest news and information. This is a meeting for all of you, those born here, those who moved here like me, those whom circumstances now place here."
He paused again.
"All of you are citizens of our country. Mr. Fuller, who was director of public safety prior to this war and is thus now," he looked for the right word, "our temporary leader in Black Mountain, under martial law, will share with you the news we have from Asheville about what has happened, is happening, will happen.
"We are at war, and martial law has been proclaimed in this town. These two men have been condemned to death under the rules of martial law. They have been convicted and condemned for stealing vital medication, painkillers from Miller's Nursing Home, leaving the residents there to suffer in agony. Of that crime and the general crime of looting they have been found guilty beyond all reasonable doubt at a fair and open hearing."
"Fuck your trial!" Larry screamed. "This is a lynch mob!"
John was silent and no one from the crowd replied.