Page 42 of Last Light

The one who spoke before laughs. It’s a coarse, ugly sound. “She’s a li’l fighter. Love me a gal with some spirit.”

“I’m not alone here,” I manage to say, backing up as they approach. “And I’ll kill you if you try to touch me.”

The man laughs again. “Looks like you’re on your lonesome to me. I’ll keep you company. It’s been weeks since I had me some pussy. What d’you say, Hank?”

Hank is the second man, and I haven’t heard him speak yet. He looks at his friend doubtfully. “I dunno. If she doesn’t wanna—”

“Haven’t you heard? The world’s all fucked up now. Don’t matter anymore if a bitch wants it or not.”

They’ve got me trapped now against the back of the Jeep, one on either side. Travis isn’t far away. I know he’ll help me. I try to scream to let him know I need him.

My throat is so closed up that I can’t make more than a squeaking sound.

It makes the first man cackle.

I try again with no more success. It’s horrible. Terrifying. That I can’t even force a sound out.

I need to do something. Now. Since I can’t scream, I rush toward Hank and slash his arm with my knife.

He howls and stumbles backward, and I make a dash toward the passenger seat where I left my gun.

I almost reach it before the first man catches up with me, grabbing me from behind.

“Feisty one, ain’t you?” His breath is horrible, wafting over my shoulder.

“Come on, man. Let ’er go. She don’t want it, and I’m bleedin’ out over here.”

“She’s gonna get it whether she wants it or not.” One of his hands fumbles with the bottom of my shirt.

The block in my throat breaks open, and I’m finally able to scream.

What happens next is so fast I can barely track specific moves. I writhe desperately against his imprisoning arms. He adjusts them to get better control of me, bringing one of them up toward my neck.

His forearm is close enough now.

I sink my teeth into it as hard as I can, bucking wildly against his hold.

I draw blood.

He bellows furiously and releases me, but before I can scramble away, he swings a fist. If it had connected fully, it would have knocked me out, but it just glances against the side of my face. It still hurts. And it jars me so much I fall down.

Even as I do, I’m reaching up for my gun.

Then there’s another sound. One I don’t even recognize.

It’s like a growl. Like a wild animal.

But it isn’t.

It’s Travis.

He’s moving at a dead run, and he barrels into the man who attacked me, tackling him so hard that he flies a few feet backward.

There’s a quick, ugly fight. I can barely see it through my bleary eyes. Travis is on top of the other man. At first he’s just using his hands, but then the other guy draws a knife and slashes out with it. Somehow Travis gets it from him.

Then there’s blood.

A lot of blood.

---