THE LAST MAN: part Forty-one

Desiree and I are led from the building. My steps are weighted with stone, each one more humiliating than the next. I am impotent, struggling for a rationalization as to why I do not fight back. There is a part of me that believes an honorable death resisting would be better than a fool’s pointless and passive death. That part of me is a hostage to moments that wash one to the next, fluid like waves. I am suspended in them, unable to do anything but be carried forward towards death.

As we are leaving I spy two other ministers jut arriving. I could perhaps find something sinister in their presence. By their appearance I could believe they are too well prepared for all this. The Woman from Security and Resource does not notice me. The man from Efficiency and Entertainment seems surprised to find me here. His eyes follow me before they disappear inside.

Around the corner is a small alley. It is bounded by tall buildings on two sides, and at the back by the sea wall. There is a sewer near the sea wall. I have a mind to through myself over the edge, with full realization I could be seriously hurt. Still, despite that, it might prove my last chance for escape. I fear that I may never see the ruins, but I cannot and will not abandon Desiree, not so long as I can still draw breath.

“Stop there,” says the Minister. We turn, pausing to meet one another’s eyes, as though saying goodbye. I take her hand in mine. She squeezes it tightly and takes a deep stuttering breath. I cannot breathe, my throat growing dry. The minister comes forward and raises his pistol at Desiree. I pull her my chest, bringing her head to my chest, my gaze filled with contempt for the commander.

“If you shoot we die together,” I say bitterly. My intention is rob him fully of even the slightest satisfaction. With that I close my eyes, fully expecting the burning hot stab of the bullet. Desiree and I pull her tightly to me, and breathe in the dusty scent of her hair, savoring that smell in the face of eternity.

“Makes no difference to me,” he says.

There is a sudden volley of shots from beyond the alley. The shot from the Minster’s bullet explodes, but I am already pushing Desiree to the ground. The round goes wide, slapping against the seawall. I cover her with my body. More shots thunder in the alley, the air momentarily alive with bullets.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the shooting stops. I look up cautiously, still shielding Desiree. The air in the alley swims and is bitter with spent gunpowder. The bodies of Section Twenty-one men litter the ground. There is more fighting in the distance near the command center. Beside me the Minister is all but dead yet. He lies on his stomach, a bullet through his neck. He gurgles and chokes out his final breaths. Life runs away from him like the river of blood to the sewer.