Walking in the Rain (Book 4): Dark Sky Thunder Read Online Free

shortly after, but we could all tell Lori still carried a burden of guilt.
    “Sis, if I would have just stayed in the car, none of this would have happened,” Summer insisted, leaning forward on her crutches to make her point. I knew she was still a little scared of me, of my temper, and things just weren’t the same between us after I woke up in the armory recovery room. I tried to reassure her that we were still cool, but she still had her doubts, I guess.
    My father finally spoke, his voice carrying in the morning gloom. “After the shooting stops,” my dad intoned with quiet authority, “we can all point to something we could have done different, or some action that, in hindsight, might have saved a life. That’s all in the past, and if we are going to move forward, you have to leave it back there. I’ve lost men, Marines I considered as close as brothers, and I always had to fight the doubt that comes after the shooting stops. Woulda, coulda, shoulda. Eats you alive if you let it. So you have to learn to set it down and somehow move on.
    “Now, can one of you tell me how my son got shot? And no, that does not mean you, Lucas. You’ve proven to be an unreliable source.”
    I sighed, knowing instinctively that this was going to get ugly. I was right. I never wanted my family to know what I had turned into out there. My dad, okay, he would understand. My grandfather probably would have as well. Uncle Billy? Couldn’t say, but I figure losing his father to the same kind of people who killed Lori and Summer’s folks would keep him from questioning my motives. Or sanity.
    But Mom and Paige. Or the Elkins? Or Mr. Sheldon’s family. Isaac Sheldon was a big, scary-looking man to people who didn’t know him, but he was actually one of the kindest, gentlest people I knew. The horses could sense it about him, which was one of the reasons he made such a good trainer. How would Mr. Ike react if he ever overheard this story? So, I was terrified to hear what would be said next by my friends.
    Then I heard the door creak one more time and my buddy Alex came ambling out onto the porch. Six feet, six inches tall at only fifteen years of age. Alex was a few shades lighter than his father and had his mother’s high cheekbones, but his father’s physical presence. We used to give him grief at school about getting a job as a male model if the basketball career didn’t pan out.
    “What’s goin’ on, guys? I heard you all out here talking. Are we finally going to hear what really happened on the trip?”
    Yep. I was doomed.

CHAPTER
THREE
    Suffering in silence, I let first Lori, and then Amy, and finally Scott, spin the tale of my anger-fueled rampage in the neighborhood around the Thompson home. The entire time, I was aware of my father’s eyes as he listened without comment. When Scott was finishing his part of the story, describing how they managed to manhandle the three of us into the SUV for a frantic trip back to the armory, I finally saw my father was ready to speak.
    “How much of it do you remember, son?” he asked.
    I nodded. Good question. “Pretty much all of it, until I fell out in the garage. I was in control the whole time, if that’s what you mean. I’ve had it happen before, but I don’t lose it every time I go into battle. I’ve fought plenty without going all Viking warrior, you know.”
    “But when he goes, Mr. Messner, you don’t want to get in his way. We counted up fifteen bodies that day. He killed every one of them. Shot, stabbed, and just blew up. And at Saw Creek, well, Lori said she heard he killed six men with just a knife, and then shot another half dozen at close range.” Scott said this with conviction, and I knew in his mind, it was a good thing to have such a monster fighting on his side.
    “No,” I said with a sigh, “that’s not right. I only killed three, maybe four with a knife there. That’s how all these tall tales get started.”
    I heard a hiss behind me, and I turned