DISCLAIMER: I don't own Jericho.
Bonnie Richmond shoved rounds into the shotgun, fighting to keep her hands from shaking.
I shouldn't have gone outside. We should have hid, or run.
She thought she could fool those Ravenwood thugs, convince them Mimi wasn't around. She should have known better.
Now they were coming for them. How many? Five? Six? All of them trained killers. What chance did she, a little Kansas farm girl, have against men like that?
It didn't matter.
This was her home.
Mimi was her family.
She would protect them both.
Bonnie rammed home the last shell as the front door crashed open. She peered round the doorframe. Two black-clad Ravenwood men entered, guns drawn.
The shotgun thundered. Both men fell.
Another appeared and opened fire. Loud, continuous cracks echoed throughout the house. Bullets slapped against walls. Lamps and picture frames shattered.
Bonnie pressed her back against the wall and closed her eyes, praying Mimi was all right, praying Stanley or Jake would show up to help.
Praying she would get through this alive.
The firing stopped. Bonnie whirled around, sighted her target and fired. The man crumpled to the ground.
More automatic weapons fire erupted. Bonnie ducked out of sight, her heart slamming against her chest. She winced as splinters exploded off the doorframe and stung her face and hands. Every instinct screamed at her to run away. She didn't want to die.
She thought of Mimi. She thought of Stanley. How would he cope if anything happened to his fiancé?
Bonnie broke cover. She spotted another Ravenwood thug by the window. The shotgun boomed. Glass shattered. The darkened figure convulsed and disappeared from sight.
How many did that make? Four? Five? Maybe she could . . .
Another man stepped through the door. His automatic pistol crackled. Bullets zipped through the house. Bonnie fired. She racked the shotgun again . . .
A sharp pain pierced her chest. Her body went hot and cold in a matter of seconds. An invisible force ripped the strength from her. Her legs gave out. Bonnie crumpled to the ground, her eyes glimpsing an expanding patch of red on her shirt.
Her mind refused to accept it. She couldn't have been shot. She couldn't be dying.
She tried to rack the shotgun again. Her fingers refused to work. She stared up at the ceiling, the colors dissolving before her. Everything turned a dull gray.
Bonnie thought she'd be in pain, or she'd be terrified. Strangely, she was neither. If anything, she felt sad. Not for herself. Sad for her brother. How would he react when he came home and saw her like this? How would he feel the day of his wedding to Mimi when he looked around to find his little sister, and suddenly realized she wouldn't be there?
I'm so sorry, Stanley.
Darkness crept over her. An image burned in her brain. The photograph of her parents she kept on her nightstand for as long as she could remember. The two of them, arms around one another, and smiling.
Calm washed over Bonnie. She'd see Mom and Dad soon. And she knew they'd be smiling when they greeted her. She knew they'd be proud of her. Because despite overwhelming odds, she had protected her home. She had protected her family.
THE END –
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I was bummed when they killed off Bonnie, so think of this as my little tribute to a woman who went out in a blaze of glory.