Excerpt: Fall of Glory

The Monarch was perched on a high plateau, an old back road that sat up against the back of the Green River. The three men stood up at the edge, peering over to the rough autumn waters below. The squat one, Kemp, was speaking into a cell phone, his hands flailing animatedly. The other two looked hungrily towards the vehicle, ready to do the deed.
Before Graham could even react, Sieg let out a growl. Graham swore as he realized he’d forgotten to put the dog’s muzzle back on. He lunged for the big dog, clamping his hands around his snout. One of the men looked up.
Graham couldn’t hear the man’s voice, but he heard the inquisitive tone carry over the river. The man who had been wearing a turtleneck the day before shook his head. Kemp kept on talking into the phone, oblivious to all.
How was this possible? What were the chances of the goons meeting here, at the precise time Graham happened to be walking by? Slim, he decided. He considered pushing on, trying to make it to Aubrey’s address by noon. The alternative would be to wait to see the fate of his hard work; a project that had taken a year out of his life. He took the latter. Quietly, a muzzle was slipped over Sieg’s short nose. Graham looked directly into the dog’s brown eyes. He think he understood.
Together, they crouched down low and waited. After several minutes, Kemp got off the phone. He looked angry. The other two men looked awkward, standing still as the older man yelled at them. Graham couldn’t make out words. Just tones, as before. Finally, Kemp gave the order. Graham’s stomach churned harder than the river below. The three men disappeared behind the four-door, and for a moment, he thought they might have just gone and left it there.
No such luck.
The Monarch rolled forwards slowly, a man walking to the gallows. Graham watched helplessly as it crawled closer and closer to the edge of the road, where an ancient wooden barrier stood. It had no chance. Finally, the car caught some momentum. Faster, faster it rolled until…
Graham bit his lip.
The Monarch rolled through the barrier and, for a moment, seemed to fly before plunging down the sheer face of the banks of the Green River. It made a colossal splash, sending small geysers of water into the bleak grey sky. He watched in horror as the million-dollar research was swallowed whole, its burnt orange body slipping beneath the surface of the raging beast.
Gone.
Gone, felled like the one-proud leaves of autumn.
He stood up, suddenly, standing on shaky legs. The Glock was out of his pocket before he knew it. Pointed crazily up at the other side of the bank, the barrel was headed straight for the fat man. Graham wanted to pull that trigger.
Do it.
Do it.
Do it.
His neurons screamed at him. He was angry, hurt, restless. He wanted revenge for what they had just done to him. What they had done to that symbol of light in his life. The Monarch had been his means of legacy; having no children and no other connections, it was his only choice. He had been immensly close to saving the world much stress. And now, it lay dying beneath the surface of a river. Contaminating it, no less. A river that had been damaged by man so many times before...
The gun shook in his hands as he held it up.
Do it.
Do it.
Do it.
His finger cocked the safety catch at the back.
Three.
Two.
One.
Nothing. His index finger sat against the trigger, pulled tightly against the moist metal of the body of the gun.
He regarded it with new eyes, as if he had suddenly been woken from a dream. He popped out the magazine. He realized his problem -- he hadn't loaded any bullets yet. He would have laughed, had he not been so shocked at what he had been about to do. Sieg whined at his feet. He looked down at the dog, back up to the mill road, where the three men were walking back to an SUV.
His legs gave out and he fell to his knees, next to Sieg, muzzled and helpless as he.
Graham threw the gun down and cried.