mark sessnatz
Tribune
Aftermath 2
The constable's whip cut ferociously across Michael's straining, tortured back for the twenty-fifth time. He choked out a strangled cry, spraying white saliva through gritted teeth onto the paving stones below. He had survived the beating, but it had drained every last ounce of his strength. His knees dissolved from under him and he hung limply from his wrists.
"Let me through! Please!"
From the gathered crowd, her voice stirred him. He weakly lifted his head.
"Michael, I'm here!"
He saw Brianna materialize from the crowd, a blur of blonde hair and a scarlet top. Then his vision went dark.
***
He woke up on the floor, stretched out on Brianna's soft rug. She was on her knees by his side. His shirt was still gone, and she was gingerly dabbing at the stripes on his back with a damp washcloth. He tried to relax, but even her gentle hands stung his wounded skin.
"Oh thank God," she breathed, "you're awake."
"You brought me back here yourself?"
"The cops gave me a lot of attitude about it," she said bitterly, "but the sentence had been served, so they couldn't stop me. How do you feel?"
"Bit tender," he winced. "How are the others?"
"Safe. Worried about you."
"I knew what I was doing."
"We didn't!" Brianna protested, wringing pink-tinged water out of the rag. "Letting yourself get caught like that! You're lucky they only whipped you!"
"Someone had to get caught so the rest could make it over the border!" Michael shot back.
"It was stupid!"
"It worked. OWW!"
A spike of pain lanced from his shoulder as the antiseptic sank into an especially deep gash. Brianna met his gaze, her brow furrowed, her eyes glistening.
"I love you," she said. "You moron."
The constable's whip cut ferociously across Michael's straining, tortured back for the twenty-fifth time. He choked out a strangled cry, spraying white saliva through gritted teeth onto the paving stones below. He had survived the beating, but it had drained every last ounce of his strength. His knees dissolved from under him and he hung limply from his wrists.
"Let me through! Please!"
From the gathered crowd, her voice stirred him. He weakly lifted his head.
"Michael, I'm here!"
He saw Brianna materialize from the crowd, a blur of blonde hair and a scarlet top. Then his vision went dark.
***
He woke up on the floor, stretched out on Brianna's soft rug. She was on her knees by his side. His shirt was still gone, and she was gingerly dabbing at the stripes on his back with a damp washcloth. He tried to relax, but even her gentle hands stung his wounded skin.
"Oh thank God," she breathed, "you're awake."
"You brought me back here yourself?"
"The cops gave me a lot of attitude about it," she said bitterly, "but the sentence had been served, so they couldn't stop me. How do you feel?"
"Bit tender," he winced. "How are the others?"
"Safe. Worried about you."
"I knew what I was doing."
"We didn't!" Brianna protested, wringing pink-tinged water out of the rag. "Letting yourself get caught like that! You're lucky they only whipped you!"
"Someone had to get caught so the rest could make it over the border!" Michael shot back.
"It was stupid!"
"It worked. OWW!"
A spike of pain lanced from his shoulder as the antiseptic sank into an especially deep gash. Brianna met his gaze, her brow furrowed, her eyes glistening.
"I love you," she said. "You moron."
