Donovar gets up and picks up his cantine, throwing it on the ground toward Allen. Conaway is left lying on the ground slowly recovering from the ordeal. Allen unscrews the canteen, and takes a drink. He wipes his mouth, and tosses the canteen at Donovar’s feet. Donovar shoulders his rifle and aims it down toward Allen, his finger slowly compressing the trigger. Donovar is jolted to the side, as a single shot rings off the walls of the small house. Conaway had managed to stand up and grab hold of the rifle’s barrel. Though the bullet missed its original mark, Allen is still hit.
“What are you doing?! I’m not trying to fight you Conaway! Don’t get in my way!”
“I’m sorry, but I promised Allen, he’s going to suffer with me as long as I’m alive!”
Conaway fights desperately to disarm Donovar. With his friend’s life on the line he refuses to give up. With this conviction he manages to free the weapon using all his weight to wrench it from Donovar’s grasp. Conaway quickly shoulders the rifle with his good arm. Donovar falls to the ground, the rifle now aimed at him.
“Come on Allen, let’s get out of here!” Conaway says, keeping his eyes on Donovar.
“Sorry Conaway… I swear I tried to dodge the bullet.” Conaway looks over, as Allen holds his stomach where the bullet had hit him.
“No, no, no, come on Allen. We can get out of here, just hang on a little longer.” Conaway unslings his bad arm, grabbing weakly onto the collar of Allen’s uniform. He drags Allen across the floor keeping the rifle pointed at Donovar, but the intense pain in his arm makes him let go. From the corner of his eye he sees Donovar moving, and quickly shifts his gaze.
“Don’t move!” Conaway screams
“Don’t do it Conaway.” Allen says weakly. “Don’t be like me.”
Conoway stops looking at Allen, and there is a moment of still silence between all three of them.
“I’m sorry your brother died. I really am… I shot him, but he would’ve died even if I didn’t… I still think you’re a prick, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry…” Blood begins to spill out of Allen’s mouth as he speaks.
Donovar stops for a moment and his expression changes. He looks lost as he stands in silence looking at Allen dying before him.
“Maybe It’s one of those things… When you see all the things you did, and you know you can’t make them right anymore.” Tears begin to form in Allen’s eyes. “I don’t like you, but I don’t blame you either. From asshole to asshole, maybe one day you could forgive me.” His words are labored as he gasps for air. He gasps, and he gasps, and then slowly his life leaves him.
Donovar doesn’t respond. What Allen had said, there was something there that he didn’t expect, but he did not want to go back and ponder those words. He looks up at Conaway who is still aiming the gun toward him.
“Just shoot me, so I can be with my brother.” Donovar mumbles.
Conaway’s intense expression slowly dissolves, but the bitterness still lingers. “If you want to die so badly,” Conaway throws the rifle at Donovar’s feet, “do it yourself.” Conaway goes over to Allen’s body, taking a moment to look at his dead friend. “I’m gonna miss you brother. But I’m glad you found the end of this war.” He grabs Allen from under the shoulders dragging him outside. The snow storm had stopped, but there remained a thick layer of white snow over the ground. Conaway spent the rest of the day digging a hole with one hand, to give Allen’s body a proper burial. After he had finished, he marked the grave with a plank of wood shaped like a cross. Donovar appears beside him, holding his brother’s necklace in his hand.
“I’m sorry brother, but I cannot join you yet. Mother is awaiting our return. I will miss you dearly.” Donovar places the necklace over the plank of wood.
“Would be a lot easier if we had just died at some point, no?” Conaway asks.
“The living carry the burden of the dead.” Donovar responds.
“Then for their sake and ours, I hope we both live to see the end of this storm.”