He Could only Sob Harder
Max ran like he had never run before. He ran like all Hell. All he could think about was his wife and child. The things he'd never told his wife. He had to get to her in time. There were so many things they had to do; so many things he still had to say. He hadn't told her he loved her nearly enough times. His heart was pounding his blood was racing. Jessie and his son; they were all that flashed through his mind like snap shot pictures as he ran his damnedest He'd never taught his kid how to play baseball. No dad should be robbed of that. He had to teach his son how to play baseball. He had to tell Jessie all the things that were left to say. He had to teach his son how to play baseball. He had to get them a new dog. After theirs had been killed by those bastards. The only dog they'd ever have shouldn't be killed. There should be another. Man and his kid could teach the new one to play fetch while they played baseball. His wife, his son; he had to reach them. Adrenaline was pumping through him, blood was flowing at an alarming rate and his heart was pounding so hart his chest hurt. Max had been afraid before, but now he was truly, truly terrified. He'd been terrified of meeting the same fate as his best friend, of becoming like the gang that he was fighting. This was a new feeling of terror and horror.
Suddenly, his heart jolted.
The car was stopped on the road. That was a bad sign; that was very, very bad. Max stopped for a split second, his eyes wide with horror.
Then something made his blood run cold.
The old woman they were staying with. She was by the car. What was more, she was crying. This was even worse. What was worst of all was that she was screaming and crying for Jessie. That was bad. Max dropped his gun there and ran even faster than before.
As he ran, his heart stopped for an instant.
He saw the worst thing of all. Two heaps on the road. Those heaps were the bodies of his wife and child. He was too late. He ran to them. His two most beloved treasures bloodied battered heaps on the road! Run over by motorcycles! Max couldn't bear it. He felt his heart tearing itself apart as he screamed and fell to his knees sobbing over his child and his wife. He'd never tell Jessie all the things he still had to tell her. They were supposed to grow old together. She was too young; he was too young. They were only in their mid-twenties! Not yet; they weren't supposed to be torn a part by death yet. And even then, it was supposed to be old age, or some natural cause. It wasn't supposed to be murder, and a brutal horrible one at that. He'd never teach his baby son to play baseball. He was only two! He certainly wasn't supposed to die yet! He was healthy and young! He was supposed to get another puppy, supposed to play catch with his dad. Supposed to smack a tennis ball around with Max in a couple of years, supposed to find someone to marry, supposed to go to school. Two years! TWO YEARS! Max collapsed at the bodies of his wife and child, wracked with sobs. He'd gotten to them to late. He couldn't help them now. He'd failed. He hadn't saved them. He'd never forgive himself for not saving them. He should have saved them. He was a cop. He'd saved so many people. Why couldn't he save his own family? He'd never forgive himself that hel lived and his family didn't. He had failed them. He couldn't do anything now. All he could do now, was cry. Max wished he was on the ground with them. He didn't want to go on with out them. He'd rather die then go on with out them. But he didn't have much choice. He cried harder. The old woman cried by the van. Her mentally retarded son tried to comfort her and also cried. He probably didn't fully understand what was going on though. Max felt his heart being ripped out of his chest as he sobbed harder and harder for his wife and child. There was nothing he could do. He could only sob harder.