Chapter 7
Quill
Clearly, I should have walked out of Campbell’s experiment a long time ago.
That’s the one good thing to come out of this situation. Most soldiers would get shot or, at the very least, severely disciplined for such an act of insubordination. Meanwhile, I get a fucking holiday.
Tragen called to confirm Dad’s words—that I was no longer on Campbell’s team—and added that I could stay in and rest instead of going to training on Thursday night.
Sometimes, I wonder if Tragen’s relative kindness is due to him worrying I could blow a fuse.
But that would be ridiculous, because Tragen is far more bloodthirsty than me.
At the same time, I doubt such a hardened soldier as he is actually has it in him to care, especially about anyone as fucked up as me.
He probably sees me as a good future asset, and is very careful not to ruffle my feathers, so that I, along with the rest of the soldiers, make it out of this training program in one piece.
Whatever the case is, I’m feeling pretty well-rested today as I grab my gun and loop it on my belt so it hangs against the back of my jeans.
Then I head out on my bike, but not in the direction of school, even though it’s Friday and I have class.
I go a few blocks to my right and park right outside the Campbell home.
I know Ray has a free period this morning, so he’s probably sleeping in. And I see two cars in the driveway, which means both his parents are still at home, probably eating a leisurely breakfast, without any awareness of the absolute shitstorm heading their way.
I’ve never killed a man before, but I know I absolutely have it in me as I kick in their door, using so much force it splinters under my foot.
I hear a woman scream, chair legs scuffing the floor, and feet shuffling down the staircase.
The staircase being closest to me, I see Ray Campbell first.
The asshole stops, frozen, in the middle of the stairs, staring at me. I had come to see his dad, not him, but when my eyes take in his stupid jock appearance, suspicion rankles in my chest.
“What’d you do to her?” I growl.
His eyes fall to my gun, widening, then slowly lift toward me. “Uhm…” He swallows. “Who?”
“Who do you fucking think?”
I take a few steps toward him, stopping only when the barrel of my gun presses into his chest.
“Fuck… fuck, Quill…” he gasps.
“Quill!” calls out a voice I recognize as Al Campbell’s. “Come on in here, son. Let’s have a chat.”
I ignore him, as well as the terrified sobs of his wife, my attention entirely focused on Ray. “What did you fucking do to Piper Day?” I insist.
“I… I… nothing, Quill… nothing… I fucking swear…”
Liar. Fucking liar. I can smell the bullshit emanating from his pores.
Maybe I’m slow, in a way, because up till now I hadn’t thought about why Piper wanted revenge against Ray, only that she’d gotten it in the worst way possible.
But seeing the asshole in front of me is enough to make me forget why I came here in the first place.
And that was to kill his dad.
Or something.
The truth is, I didn’t exactly have a plan before barging in. All I knew was that I had to neutralize the threat to Piper, and violence was going to be my answer.
I lift my gun from Ray’s chest and he breathes in relief, only to let out a strangled cry when I instead push it against his forehead.
“Quill,” says Al Campbell again, his voice louder now that he’s walked into the entrance hall, “I’m calling Tragen.”
Yeah, well, fuck you too.
His words only make me that much more determined to shoot his fucking son and make him watch. Does he really think I’m scared of Tragen? Or does he think I’m just some lab rat he and his piece of shit colleague can fucking control?
I’m going to show them. I’m going to fucking show them.
I put my finger on the trigger, causing Ray’s eyes to bulge out of their sockets. And I hear his dad’s shaky voice as he says, “Yeah, uhm, Tragen? Your soldier has his gun to my son’s head. Uh huh. Quill Nelson.”
“Last words,” I hiss to Ray, and I have the satisfaction of hearing, and smelling, the asshole piss his pants.
Useless piece of shit.
“Well?”
He opens and closes his mouth helplessly, as his mother leans against the bannister, sobbing.
“Please, Quill… please, whatever the problem is, I’m sure Ray is so sorry… please…”
It’s not her words, though, but his father’s, still speaking to Tragen, that have me putting my gun down.
“It’s about some girl, I think. Her name is—”
Fuck!
I whirl around so fast all three of them shut up from sheer surprise. There’s a dead silence as I walk toward Al Campbell, my gun now on him.
“Shut up,” I growl. “Shut up, hang up the phone, no one dies today.”
He hesitates, his eyes glued to the barrel of my gun.
“I’ve never broken a promise before,” I insist. “Put the phone down, and no one dies.”
Something in my eyes must reassure him, because he slowly takes the phone from his ear. I hear Tragen’s confused voice on the other end before Campbell presses the button to hang up.
“Okay,” he says, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face. “Okay, Quill. Now, go. You said no one would get hurt.”
I train my gun toward his left thigh.
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t say that.”
“Quill.” Campbell’s voice comes out strangled. “You did. You promised.”
“I said no one would die. And I always keep my word.”
As I speak, I pull the trigger, and a window-shattering detonation has him careening backward, clutching his thigh.
“Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck, Quill? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
His wife is back to screaming, and his son looks more dead than alive as he sees the bullet lodged in his dad’s thigh that moments before seemed destined to find its way to him.
“Forget that girl,” I warn. “Forget she was there on Wednesday. Forget every single fucking thing about her. If I ever hear her name in your mouth—if you ever so much as fucking think about her, I’m coming back to shoot you again. And this time, I won’t aim so fucking low.”
I sling the gun back in my belt and walk out, feeling absolutely giddy with adrenaline.
Goddamnit. If this is how it feels like to shoot a real, live person… well, fucking sign me up.
_
By the time evening rolls around, I’m not feeling quite so happy.
Not that I regret shooting Campbell, but I wonder if somehow I’ve made the situation worse. Would things have blown over for Piper had I not inserted myself into the situation? Did I just make the target on her back even bigger?
I decide not to head to school after my morning visit at the Campbells’. Fridays feel a little pointless anyway, since they’re the one day of the week I’m not in any of Piper’s classes. No matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t fix it so we shared classes on Friday.
So I spend the day lounging around my room, trying not to wonder about just how badly I might have fucked things up. I only get up when I hear Dad pull into the driveway. There’s no way I should be able to tell just from the sound of his car engine how pissed off he is, but somehow, I can.
Well, I shot one guy today. Guess I might as well shoot another one.
I grab my gun and hurry down the stairs, reaching it just as he bangs it open.
“Quill! Quill.”
The first time, he thunders my name; the second sounds like a polite greeting, as his eyes land on my weapon.
“Yeah?” I growl.
“Quill,” he repeats, licking his lip. “Tragen told me about, uhm, your little altercation with… with Campbell…”
“Right.” I wave my gun around, and his eyes bulge as he follows the movement. “Did he say what it was about?”
“Uh…” He dabs at his forehead with his hand. “About a girl, I think.”
“Uh huh. What girl?”
He clears his throat nervously. “He didn’t say anything about that. I don’t think he knows.”
I hesitate a moment, then let the gun fall to my side.
I’m not sure I should believe that he doesn’t know about Piper, but why would he only give me half the story?
This tracks with Campbell hanging up on Tragen before he could get Piper’s name out.
Tragen doesn’t know. He can’t know, because I have no fucking clue what I’d do if Piper Day ever got on his radar.
Probably fucking burn him and all of Devil Tower along with him.
Good thing I don’t have to do that, because I’m not sure how I’d even start. I walk around Dad, intending to open the door and head out. Then I pause.
“Keys.”
“Huh?”
His confusion turns to anger as I reach out a hand at him.
“I’m taking the car. Keys.”
“It’s my car,” he hisses. “Are you out of your fucking mind, Quill?”
“Keys,” I insist, waving my gun around at him again. “Give me the fucking car keys.”
I don’t know why my bike isn’t cutting it right now, except maybe I don’t want anyone seeing me with Piper.
Which means I guess I’m planning to find Piper.
Dad’s face goes through all of the colors, from red to blue to green, before settling on light grey. He fumbles in his pockets, throws the keys at me, and grunts, “Now fuck off.”
I’m drunk with power as I slide into his Maserati, turning the key in the ignition. Fuck, I should have started threatening Dad with a gun a long time ago. It makes life so much easier.
I drive toward Piper’s house, so laser-focused on finding her and—well, I’m not sure what’ll come after that—that I don’t even notice Liam and Dane until I’m practically running them over.
“Holy shit!” laughs out Liam. “Hey, man!”
He’s wearing a white paper plate that he’s cut out so it resembles the masks soldiers wear when they’re carrying out contracts, with two slits for eyes and a very long, curved blood-red mouth. So is Dane, and the latter is dangling a third paper plate mask in front of me.
“What the fuck?” I mutter, as they walk toward me.
“We’ve been looking for you,” declares Liam. “Sick, man, you’ve got your dad’s car! Let’s go!”
Before I even have time to react, he invites himself into the front seat. Dane enters more slowly, watching me for any sign that I’m not okay with this.