I stared in disbelief, kneeling next to the lifeless Pat. He’s gone. Patrick’s gone. No. No, he can't be gone, he just can't... No no, he can't be. No! NO! I let loose a long, inarticulate wail. I buried my head in the crook of his neck, trying to memorize every feature of him.
Henry looked on curiously. He shook his head. “All that energy, just to try to save a cause he fought to keep alive,” he noted in curious awe. "The sheer exertion must've done it..." He paused for a moment. "Unless..." Silently he unpocketed a syringe, drawing from Patrick’s limp arm, then emptying its contents onto a PDA-like reader he'd slipped from his pocket. He waited a few moments, then his eyes glinted with mild surprise.
“Well, it wasn’t only exertion, but the lactic acid from the struggle combined with the amount of the paralyst in his system must've caused an averse reaction,” he observed nonchalantly.
“Wait,” I began, rising slowly, “you ordered to have him captured?”
He shrugged. "I was advised to do so by my superiors, but I gave the final order, yes."
"And you ordered to have the paralyst used?"
"I did, and I was told what dosage to order."
I seethed, absorbing this information. I took a flying leap towards Henry, pinning him to the wall by his neck. “Do you mean to tell me that you killed him?!” I hissed in his face.
“If you want to put it like that, in a sense, yes,” he gasped.
I shrieked, letting tears fall in a torrent. I didn’t care who saw me. Let them stare! I didn’t care who knew; let the whole world know!
I fumed. Henry was pawing at my arms and gasping in my hands, two seconds from going unconscious.
I barely noticed Ezra stumble in through a connecting storage hall door, half-limping towards me. I failed to notice what rough shape he was in.
There was pounding on the main door outside.
“Oy! What’s going on in there?”