CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“You bitch!” scoffed Kyle. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but this proves nothing.”
“You really are delusional, Kyle,” said Jennifer softly. “You are surrounded by the best man and God, has to offer.”
“You won’t kill me in a convent. They wouldn’t allow it,” he sneered. The scraping sounds of an old wooden door could be heard behind him. It creaked open, as if Dracula himself were going to emerge into the light. Three nuns stepped out, all staring at him.
“Are these your back-ups?” he laughed. One of the little nuns launched forward, shoving a dagger near his heart. It was a relic, probably belonging to the convent, kept in some storage locker or keepsake cabinet.
She pulled the dagger from his chest as he stumbled backwards. She’d missed his heart but he was bleeding all the same.
“You don’t remember me,” she whispered. “But I remember you.”
Another lunged forward with a standard butcher knife from the kitchens plunged into his back. He howled in pain as everyone watched.
“Is your memory returning?” asked the second nun. “The orphanage in Mozambique. Eight years ago. You killed the mother superior, slaughtered the boys, and then you and your men used my sisters and I. You thought we were dead when you left with the children but we weren’t.”
“We survived,” said the third nun stepping forward. She carried a baseball bat and swung it at the side of his head and then at his knees. He cried out in pain, falling to the worn stone pathway. “We survived because of Jennifer. She rescued the children and got us home.”
“B-but you’re nuns! You’re not allowed to harm others,” he cried out in agony, trying to stop the blood from his wounds, while simultaneously gripping his knees.
“An eye for an eye,” whispered the first little nun. The three turned to Jennifer and smiled. “Mother Superior asks that you ensure the mess is cleaned up when you’re done. We have dug a hole about a mile that way. Far enough from the convent that we won’t ever see it again.”
“We could have done that for you, Sister,” said Gunner.
“It was our pleasure,” said the young nun.
It was then that they noticed the long scar along her jaw, down her throat, and disappearing inside her habit.
Jennifer had been right. She wasn’t the only one that needed revenge and peace.
How many more were there? How many more had suffered under this man?
“Who the fuck are you?” he said staring up at Jennifer.
She took three steps forward, closer than Grayson would have liked, but he would allow her this moment. She pulled the long Bowie knife from her leather sheath and Kyle gasped, swallowing back what was left of his saliva.
“After today, we will never think of you again. You will be buried in an unmarked grave. No one will pray for you, not even your parents.” His eyes went wide and his breathing quickened.
“I did them the courtesy of offering. They didn’t want you buried anywhere near them or their farm.
Even they didn’t want you. You’ve lost every contact, every friend, every enemy because you will no longer be alive. They knew that. You did not.”
“Wh-who the fuck are you? I deserve to know that!” he screamed, the echo of his screams causing the birds to scatter. Gunner stepped forward with Striker, and Hunter.
“We are REAPER-Patriots.” Moose, U-Jin, and Conor stepped forward next.
“We are Voodoo Guardians,” said U-Jin calmly. The other men, dressed in their military camo all stepped forward. Grayson leaned down, inches from the man’s face.
“We are the mother-fucking United States Marines and you are about to die.”
“No! She has nothing to do with any of that! She’s not one of you!” he yelled in a pleading voice. Grayson kicked the man in the mouth, knocking him to his back. Jennifer stepped closer, stepping on his hand.
“Wrong. You see, those men are all my family. And him? He’s my future husband.”
His face paled to nearly a whispery, paper-thin gray. His wounds were bleeding.
“Kyle Lacroix, you have been found guilty of crimes against humanity. There will be no hearing. No courtroom appearance. No plea for leniency. You will die today,” said Jennifer. She bent at the waist, still standing on his hand, leaning closer and she whispered.
“I hope you burn in hell.”
She stood and walked toward the three nuns standing in the doorway. Smiling, she hugged them and they walked inside, closing the door behind them.
Grayson kneeled on Lacroix’s chest, blood pulsing forward at an alarming rate. Gunner and U-Jin lay out a body bag, then casually tossed his nearly dead body on top, slowly zipping it shut.
Lacroix had no breath to speak. He had nothing left in him, nothing at all. When they threw the bag into the small truck used by the sisters for gardening, they disappeared up the hill and found the well-dug hole the sisters had made.
“Sisters are damn good at digging graves,” frowned Rowe.
“I think that means don’t piss them off,” grinned Sonny.
There was no sound and no movement from the body bag as they tossed him into the hole. With all of the men working, it was filled within thirty minutes.
They patted the ground evenly, then noticed the potted plants nearby. The sisters intended this to be truly unmarked. The plants would grow with the rest of the hillside, and no one would ever suspect.
They all smiled at one another, carefully planting the pots on the top of the grave. In a year, no one would know that it was anything except wildflowers growing here.
“What now?” asked Brunson. “I mean, for us.”
“I’m out. This was my last mission,” said Grayson. “Most of you have a few more years in you, if you want it.”
“And if we don’t?” asked Iggy.
“If you don’t,” said Moose stepping forward, “there’s a place for you back home. Just say the word.”
“Word!” yelled the seven men. Gunner laughed, nodding at them.
“I fucking love Marines. Volunteering for shit before they even know what they’re getting into.”