‘What will pacify them?’
‘Nothing other than your resignation, and even then.’ She left the sentence hanging.
‘What do you mean? They want me dead?’
‘A lot of them have lost loved ones, they want to see equal justice.’
‘I did it for them,’ he roared. ‘To protect them. To protect our country.’
He slumped in his chair. So this is how it ended. They were all gone, the generals who had brought him to power, the advisors, the ministers, he had either fired them or they had left or they had been killed. He had outlasted them all.
A sergeant burst through the door. ‘Sir, they are trying to storm the palace gates. We should go.’
He started to rise, then stopped. ‘No, you go,’ he motioned to her.
‘They will kill you.’
‘I will stay and face them. I have nothing to be ashamed of. If my death is all that will pacify the country, then I will sacrifice myself for the good of my country.’
‘You are being foolish and proud.’
‘Perhaps, but I am an old man and my time has gone.’
She looked at him and then followed the sergeant out the door. There was a loud roar and bang from the courtyard and he heard the surge of people storming towards him.
‘One last show,’ he said to himself. He carefully opened the drawer and picked up the hand grenade from the drawer. He remembered his best friend who advised him to always keep a grenade close by, just in case.
He would pacify the angry mob one last time.
Written for #FOWC, hosted by Fandango on his blog This, That and the Other. Today’s prompt word was: Pacify. Click on the link to read contributions from other writers.
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