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Genna didn’t want to move. She wanted to close her eyes. Maybe this would all go away. Maybe the looping footage wasn’t real. Maybe this time the man on the screen would make a different decision. Maybe this time he’d live.
She didn’t know how many times the loop had played now. Fifty? A hundred? Enough that it was burnt onto her mind, visible even if she did close her eyes.
So she forced herself to watch. She saw the man approach from the left, and the troopers appear from the end of the street. She saw their lips moving, and the man gesticulating. His coat was unfastened, and it flapped around him.
The troopers raised their weapons. They spoke, the lower gap in their facemasks moving harshly. The man said something in return, some phlegm-speckled vitriol.
The weapons flas
