Dating After the End of the World - 39

“Dad!” I scream, running toward him, forgetting that there’s still a man with a gun pointed at me. My only concern is for my father, and I don’t care if I die right now, trying to get to him.

The leader looks down at the large body at his feet, blood already staining his white shirt. Dad gasps for air, covering the wound with his hand to put pressure on it and slow the bleeding.

“Looks like Daddy’s heroics were all for nothing,” the burner says, smiling. He kicks my father hard in the side with enough force to break his ribs. “And now I get to kill you while you watch your father bleed out. Payback’s a bitc—”

Blake plunges his knife into the unscathed-yet-still-ugly side of the burner’s face, the steel sliding just below the surface of the skin along his forehead. The blade slices down, filleting the flesh off like the scales of a fish. With one clean swipe, the burner’s nose and cheek separate from his skull, falling off like a half mask.

He screams, his one eye permanently bulged without the skin around it. The hollowed nose and lipless mouth give him the appearance of a bloodied skeleton. The pain is so intense, the burner tries to bring his own gun to his head and end it all, but Blake strikes it from his hand. He shoves him into the grave that my father dug before kicking burning embers into the hole. JJ runs over with the gas canister that Blake used to save him and pours the remaining contents into the grave.

Flames leap from the earth, like the mouth of hell itself has opened up. The fire almost licks the gas canister in JJ’s hands, and he recoils quickly from the blast of heat. Horrifying screams of agony emit from the inferno, as the burner’s hands flail at the sides of the grave, clawing at the soil he’ll soon call home.

There’s no time to relish this moment, because the man who gave up nearly everything to raise me in a way that would make sure I was protected may have given up the last thing he had to offer.

“Dad, no! Don’t close your eyes! You’re gonna be okay,” I say, grazing my hand through his hair, in an attempt to calm him, while pressing down on his own hand to help put pressure on his injury. “Get me towels! Get me something! Anything! We need to stop the bleeding!” I’m screaming to everyone, to anyone.

JJ takes off running toward the house, while Blake sinks to his knees on the other side of my father, helping to put pressure on the wound, which won’t stop bleeding.

“Dale,” Blake says, “I need you to hang in there. You’re the toughest sonofabitch I know, and a little old thing like a bullet isn’t gonna take you down. Right?” He’s saying all the right words, but his conviction tells me he knows the same truth that I do.

My dad looks up at Blake, cracking a grin. “Yeah, buddy. That’s right.” Tears fall onto my father’s shirt, and I glance over, realizing they’re coming from Blake. He squeezes my and my dad’s hands as they’re piled on top of one another, all trying to do the same thing—keep him alive, keep him with us.

“Sweetheart.” My dad’s gaze lands on me. His voice croaks, faint and weak, the smell of iron coming from his mouth.

“Dad,” I say, swallowing the sob that threatens to pour out. “Hold on just a little longer. I can save you.”

“You already did,” he says.

I can see the look of acceptance in his eyes, the look that a patient gives me after I have told them that final sweet lie. That everything is going to be fine. The look that says, I’m okay with this . I know he’s drifting away from me, but I don’t want him to.

“I can’t do this without you, Dad. Please, you have to stay.” My tears fall fast and hard, a torrential downpour of sadness. My lips stick together from the excess saliva mixing with the salty pain.

“You can. I know you can.” He smiles, lifting his other hand to brush away the hairs clinging to my cheeks.

I shake my head defiantly, saying no over and over again.

“I’m sorry for ruining your childhood.” He coughs a fine mist of blood mixed with his saliva. Speckles of red quickly stain his cheeks and beard.

“You didn’t.” I squeeze his hand and press down harder, willing him to stay alive, to stay with me. I feel the pressure from Blake doing the same.

“I did. I know I did. But . . . I just.” He coughs again, even more blood coming out, this time thick enough to emerge as full drops. “I just wanted you to realize that even when it feels like the world has ended, yours doesn’t have to.”

Tears fall from my eyes, dripping onto his shirt, getting lost in the sea of red. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Case.”

His eyes swing to Blake. “Take care of my girl,” he says.

Blake nods and whispers, “I will. I promise.”

Dad’s gaze returns to me, and he cups my face with his hand, gently stroking my cheek with his thumb. My body shakes with grief, but I’m trying to hold still and strong, so he will too.

“Your mother would be so proud of you,” he says, barely getting the words out.

His hand slips from my face and falls to the grass, his eyes staring up at the sky.

The sob rips through me, and I throw myself across my father’s chest, hugging him as tight as I can, willing him to come back.