Fool." Clay's dad whispers and staggers back. His eyes are wide and he glares at us gasping for air, grabbing his chest,
"We need to go, now!" Clay grabs Flynn's arm, and my hand pulling us down the corridor away from their dad,
"What now? Dad was there for a reason. Why was he there?" Flynn mutters aloud and stares at Clay in desperation,
"He was looking for us." Clay stops for a moment and frowns at Flynn,
"No he wasn't. He didn't even have a gun. It was like, like, he wanted to die."
"Don't be stupid." Clay snaps. I think back to the way their dad had staggered backwards clutching at his heart. Usually when someone is shot, you see the blood instantly. He had been wearing white, surely we would have seen the puddle of blood. I finger my flack jacket under my shirt, and then my body
