Page 47 of Obey

I aim again, but as I’m about to pull the trigger, the motor starts up and the boat lurches forward.

“Watch it!” I yell. “I can’t aim like this!”

“Well, fucking excuse meI” Knives shouts back.

Another gunshot, and I cry out when the bullet lodges itself in my shoulder.

The shotgun slips from my hand, and I have to fight to keep my hold on it.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Boar shouts. “You’re fucking dead! The gators will feast on your corpses!”

The roar of the motor drowns out the rest of his shouting as we ride out of gun range.

“Fuck,” Knives mutters, sitting down next to me. “Fuck.”

“You think?” I snap. “What the fuck was that back there? You nearly got us both killed! Why the fuck did I wait on your goddamn signal?” I burst out, my helplessness and rage making my voice high as I watch the blood flow from the bullet wound in my shoulder.

“What was your fucking plan then?” Knives snaps back. “We were in a tiny fucking shack, and the moment we fought, they’d have filled our bodies with bullets.”

“Not if we filled their bodies with bullets first! Or have you forgotten we started out this whole goddamn situation with guns? Before you decided we should just meekly go to die?” I shout. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have a death wish?”

“There were five of them! Two of us!” Knives growls and grabs the boat’s steering. “We could have gotten two of them at most, if we both shot perfectly, and in the meantime they unload their shotguns on us!”

“That still would’ve been better than this. In case you didn’t notice, they still did unload their shotguns at us.” I glance at the wound, grimacing when I see the bullet hole. It could’ve been worse, I guess, but I’m not going to tell Knives that and let him off the hook.

“We were able to run, which…” Knives trails off, glancing around me. “Fuck. They got you?”

“Yes, they fucking got me!” I realize I’m raising my voice again, and I struggle to bring it down a few notches. “Is there a first aid kit somewhere on this thing?”

Knives starts to move, but that jerks my good arm up. I swallow a whimper, and Knives makes a frustrated sound.

“Fine. Hold on.” Knives looks around, but there isn’t anything in easy reach. Finally, he reaches down for his shirt, and I watch as he rips the bottom of it.

“Your shirt is flimsy,” I say.

“You’re fucking lucky it is,” Knives answers. He maneuvers as best he can to my other side and ties the strip of fabric around my shoulder. “We need to get these fucking cuffs off.”

“We need to get out of this fucking swamp,” I retort.

We both look around us. It’s nothing but green, from the trees and plants to the water. The boat’s motor leaves a giant wake behind it, disturbing any creatures in the water.

And, I notice dimly, the sun is starting to get lower in the sky.

“Were you in the boy scouts?” Knives asks. “Because I can’t navigate the wilderness for shit.”

“Nope,” I answer. Even if I had been, the landscape back home is nothing like here.

Knives moves back to sitting next to me. He can’t move his hand more than a few inches away without jerking my wrist too.

So I’m in the middle of nowhere, with a bullet wound, the sun about to set…

…and stuck to Knives.

Fucking great.

TWELVE

KNIVES

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