Page 73 of Obey

His friend very pointedly turns his back to him. “Yeah, yeah. You done there? We can get some more tequila in you. That’ll make you feel better.”

Pyre nods and zips up, then stumbles a few steps in my direction. I hold my breath and keep perfectly still.

Pyre looks at me and frowns.

“Pyre, come on! The tequila’s waiting!” his friend shouts.

Pyre shakes his head and keeps walking. “Okay. More tequila.”

I wait until they’re both gone again, then let out a long, shaky breath. Shit. I hope Pyre’s alcohol-addled mind will gloss over what he’d seen.

I make quick work of the rest of the tires, then grab the gasoline canister and start pouring it over and around all the bikes.

I quietly walk back to where Knives is waiting in the long grass. He’s holding one shotgun and hands me the other.

“That was close,” Knives whispers. “Did they spot you?”

I grimace. “Pretty sure Pyre did. He looked right the fuck at me.” I mutter another curse under my breath. “He didn’t out me, though, so I don’t know. He was drunk, and they were about to pour more tequila down his throat. I don’t think he’s the only one who’ll be drunk, either.”

Which is good for us.

I square my shoulders, looking at the bikes. “All right. You ready?” The scent of gasoline is heavy on the air, and if we wait too long, someone might notice.

Maybe.

Knives nods at me. “Let’s kill some gators.”

For some reason, that strikes me as impossibly funny, and I have to fight not to laugh. I shake my head, though, fighting my amusement. There will be time for that later—after we get out of this alive. I pull out a lighter and strike the sparkwheel, then toss it onto the gasoline-soaked ground.

It instantly catches, whooshing up into a massive flame, and I hiss in discomfort at the proximity to the heat. Knives gets his finger on the trigger, and I move a few feet so I have a different vantage point for my own shots.

It doesn’t take long for the Gators to notice the blaze. There’s a lot of cursing, and they come rushing towards the bikes.

“Jesus fuck!” one of them shouts. “Quick! Water!”

Water is not going to help much with a gasoline fire—and they figure that out fast when all they do is cause the sparks to fly higher. It’s funny how they’re running around like headless chickens, trying to figure out just how to put out the blaze on their precious bikes.

Until somebody comes out with a fire extinguisher. I take aim—but Knives shoots first. The guy with the fire extinguisher screams and falls forward into the flames.

There’s no point in waiting anymore. I aim for the closest guy and take him out too. Knives gets three more shots in, and I shoot to cover him while he reloads.

We take out five of the guys before somebody shouts, “Get away from the fire, you fucking dumbasses!”

That’s Boar. His voice is etched into my mind after that incident in the swamp, and I feel the anger churning inside me.

He’d wanted to string us up and leave us to die painfully.

Maybe I’ll aim for his gut and grind my foot into his wound to return the favor.

The remaining Gators scatter, and now that they aren’t hovering around the fire it’s harder to see them. Knives shoots a few more times, but he only gets one guy.

“Whoever the fuck you are, you’re going to regret messing with me!” Boar shouts from behind a decrepit vehicle.

No, you fucker. You’re going to regret messing with us.

I glance in Knives’s direction, but it’s too dark to see him. I’ll have to trust that he knows what he’s doing, too… just like he’s going to have to trust me. I start moving, slow enough to avoid rustling the grass too much. Not that they’d be able to hear us with how loud the fire is and how they’re all still shouting, but there’s no sense in being careless.

If I can get around to the other side without being spotted, I’ll be able to shoot Boar from behind.

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