"Don't fucking move!" I call out just as he breaks through the trees. The lights come on. I don’t hesitate. I fire. Of course, momentarily blinded, I fucking miss. But the warning shot was enough to get his attention. More blood and dirt cover him from eyebrows to the toes of his boots. Blood covers the small knife in his hand.
"Well, well. She made it to civilization. Guess our little game is coming to an end." He eases closer.
"Please." A delicate voice whimpers behind me. "Shoot him."
"You stop and I bring you in alive," I yell. "You take another fucking step and I'll blow your fucking head off."
He raises his hands in surrender and a sick smile spreads across his face. "We could share her, man."
I’m done trying to bargain with the psycho. I mutter a prayer to myself and pull the trigger.
* * *
The adrenaline is still pumping. My priorities slide into clear focus. I keep Titus from making the situation worse by either licking this injured woman sitting on my floor (more than he already has) or by making a chew toy out of what is left of her attacker. It takes some work, but I corral him into my bedroom and lock the door.
When I come back into the great room, the woman is passed out in the threshold of my cabin. Still bleeding from a gash on her forehead, but still breathing. I grab a dish towel and my first aid kit from under the sink and do the best triage I can manage on her head and right hand, but it’s clear these wounds are just a couple of many. I have to get her to the hospital.
Jad Tierney calls my house phone as I search for my keys. I tear the cordless phone off its base when I see his name flash across the caller ID.
“Were those shots I just heard?”
“Yeah. Fuck. Shit. Sorry, yes.”
“You okay?”
“Yes, no. Yes.I’mfine. I don’t know what happened. I have this woman here. She’s pretty beat up. I shot the guy who was chasing her.”
“Is he dead?”
I swallow, a sick sense of pride clouding my thoughts. “Yeah, he’s dead. I didn’t miss the second time.” I find my keys on my kitchen table. “I can’t wait for Reva or Kevin to get up here. I’m taking her down to QER myself. You gotta call Jerry.” There was no time to wait for an ambulance crew to make it up to my place.
“Should we come over?” I hear May-Bell in the background.
“No! Absolutely not.”
“Okay,” Jad says, trying to call me down.
“Just stay at your place and call Jerry. And—fuck, tell him to bring backup. He shouldn’t handle this by himself.”
“Okay, son. Okay.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I can.” I hang up and rush back over to the woman again. Still knocked out, but a quick check of her pulse tells me she’s still kicking. I throw on my jacket—it’s balls freezing outside—and then carefully pick her up and walk her out to the passenger side of my truck, doing my best to shield her view from the body sprawled out lifeless in my yard, even though her eyes are closed.
I don’t drive carefully. The adrenaline is still flowing. I reverse out of my driveway, stopping only to throw open the fence at the end of my property, then I gun it down the dirt road until I reach the paved rural route. I know these mountain roads of the Paluma National Forest like the back of my hand and I know as we pass the two county cruisers, blue and whites blazing halfway down the narrow mountain road, we are still twenty minutes away from the ER in Quinten.
She moans beside me, then groans even louder when her head lolls to the side and smacks the passenger window.
“Shit.”
“I… what… my head?” She reaches up and touches the makeshift bandage.
"Stay with me, okay?" I glance over at my passenger then back at the road. "We're gonna be there soon."
That doesn’t seem to help. She starts shaking. Blood loss or shock or just straight-up fear, I have no clue, but I’m going to get her help. She says something. It sounds more like a squeak than actual words.
"What was that?"
"My brother," she whispers, then lets out a guttural sob. "They killed my brother."