Free Omega Plague: Collapse by P.R. Principe

side, avoiding the brunt of the mob’s force, but the other,
with arms flailing, fell backwards, like someone who’d been pushed without
warning into a pool. A tangle of limbs kept Bruno from seeing who was on the
bottom.
    Bruno pointed his pistol and pulled the trigger, aiming over
the heads of the crowd into the stone building across the street. Bruno’s ears
rang. Another officer, too, had shot over the heads of the mob. The mob pulled
back, piling up into the ones behind them, the front line now seeing the downed
officers and pile of bodies and retreated, fearing for their own lives.
    Bruno turned to his left and saw shattered glass where there
had once been a window. After the din, the silence itself felt oppressive.
People were on the floor of the store. One got up, clutching at a bleeding gash
on his head, looking stunned. A second officer sat staring at the shards of
glass in his shoulder and arm. The other lay on his back, behind the remnants
of the window. The downed officer was quiet, yet Bruno could see his legs
trembling.
    Bruno moved out of the doorway toward the fallen officer. A
jagged shard of glass stuck out the left side of Veri’s throat and crimson
blood poured onto the tile floor.
    Bruno dropped to his knees, laying his pistol by Veri. He
pulled Veri’s mask down to help him breathe and cupped his hands around his
neck to staunch the blood flow, applying as much pressure as he dared. Bruno’s
hands trembled as he looked into Veri’s eyes. They were bright and piercing against
his pallid skin. The pain and fright Bruno saw made tears spring to his own
eyes. Bruno was aware of movement around him and heard someone call for an
ambulance, but he couldn’t break eye contract with Veri.
    “It will be all right,” Bruno reassured. “An ambulance is
coming.”
    Two other officers approached with gauze and pads they had
taken from the pharmacy shelves and handed them to Bruno. Bruno pushed them
against Veri’s neck gently, not wanting to make anything worse. The whine of an
ambulance filled the air. Veri spluttered, as if to say something, and Bruno
bent down closer. Frothy blood coated his lips and splashed onto Bruno’s face
as Veri tried to speak.
    A fierce tremor rocked Veri’s body and his eyes rolled back
into his head.
    “No, stay with me—” Bruno said.
    After a few seconds, Veri’s rigid body went limp. His eyes
were wide open, glassy. Bruno let go of Veri’s hand and it fell to the tile
floor. A halo of blood now surrounded his friend’s head.
    Two paramedics kneeled on either side of Bruno and Veri, and
a third gently moved Bruno to the side. They began to work on Veri, but Bruno
knew it was too late.
    Bruno scooped up his pistol, stood up and surveyed the
scene. Bloody glass was strewn about the floor. The paramedics hunched over
Veri’s body were still working. The crowd had begun to disperse, though some
were detained by officers who were trying to take statements from witnesses.
Bruno had no hope that anyone would say anything of value. No one saw anything,
no one knew who pushed whom, and everyone would blame someone else, some
unknown troublemaker.
    Bruno didn’t much care who in the crowd had done what. His
eyes fell on DeLuca, standing two or three meters from Veri in the middle of
his store. DeLuca simply stood there, staring at the tiles on the floor,
fidgeting with the keys in his pocket. Then he started scratching his arm. To
Bruno, DeLuca looked like he wanted to sink into the floor, to hide, but didn’t
know how. A detached part of Bruno noticed that DeLuca looked like he was in shock.
Bruno couldn’t have cared less about DeLuca’s mental state. He stiffened and
moved towards DeLuca, but one of the municipal police officers put a hand on
Bruno’s arm, as if to lead him away. Bruno shrugged it off. DeLuca stared at
his own feet, at nothing.
    “I—I’m sorry.” DeLuca’s voice sounded flat and emotionless.
    Even though DeLuca slouched as he stared at the