Phin gets off of Wyatt’s dead body, tries to stand, almost falls, and then staggers over to Jack.
He feels for a pulse.
It’s there, but faint.
He looks around, searching for help, and sees movement.
A penguin.
And next to it.
The woman that Jack shot in the head. She’s struggling to reach inside her boot.
Phin walks over, slaps her hand away, and fishes a gun out of her ankle holster.
A derringer. Phin opens the breach. Two rounds of .22lr.
The woman rolls onto her back, reaching up for the weapon, a fake finger falling off.
“I’m sick of you assholes coming after my family,” Phin says.
A head shot is risky with a twenty-two. The bullets could deflect off the skull. So Phin reaches down, tears her shirt, and tugs the Velcro off her bulletproof vest.
Then he shoots her twice through the heart.
Throwing the gun away, he hurries back to Jack.
“Phin…” she whispers.
“You’re going to make it, babe,” he tells her. “We’re going to make it.”
He kisses her, so softly, and then the next words that come from her beautiful lips tear him apart.
“I can’t feel my legs, Phin. I can’t feel my legs…”