Page 70 of Strength of Desire

“I did,” the man said, his voice perfectly calm. “But you asked who I was and what I was doing. Wouldn’t you like to have that—”

The words died on his lips mid-sentence. His eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head to the side, looking at me closely.

“You,” he said, and the word was equal parts surprised and delighted.

“Me what?” I demanded.

“Could it really be that easy?” he said. He sounded like he was talking to himself, not me. “I thought I’d have to search for days, maybe weeks. Did you really deliver yourself to me, just like that?”

A new wave of fear rushed to fill my chest. It was hard to get a breath in. There was no room for my lungs to expand.

“What are you talking about?” My voice managed not to shake. I was proud of that.

“You’ll see soon enough,” the man said. His eyes flicked back to Erika, her head tucked under his chin, the gun at her temple. “But first—”

I dove right at them. Time slowed down, the instant I spent in the air lasting a lifetime before I crashed into the two of them. I didn’t even know what I was trying to do. Push the man away? Pull Erika free? It was dangerous, and might end in my death. But I knew Erika was going to die if I didn’t do something. I had to try.

All three of us fell to the ground, and a gunshot rang out, shattering the stillness of the night. I landed on top of Erika, and when I looked down at her, her eyes were focused again. She looked utterly lost.

“Cory?” she said, her voice full of fear. “Cory, what’s happening?”

I scrambled off her, realizing I was crushing her chest. “Are you okay?” I asked, scanning her face, her body, for any sign that the shot I’d heard had hit her. Her left hand was still bleeding, but other than that, she looked unscathed.

“Y-yeah,” she said, shaking her head, panic plain on her face.

“Not for long,” said the man in the overcoat. He pointed the gun down at Erika.

I looked up to see him looming over us. Fear made a fist around my heart, squeezing tight. I’d actually forgotten about him for a second, in my relief about Erika. Stupid, stupid me.

The man shifted his stance, and I swung my legs out, tangling them with his and knocking him over. As he fell, a second shot rang out, and the gun flew from his hand.

I scrambled on all fours in the direction it had gone. I was dimly aware of him doing the same thing, but I couldn’t let myself think of that. I just had to get to it first.

I didn’t like guns. My dad had kept three in the trailer at all times, loaded. A Glock, a Derringer, and a Smith & Wesson shotgun. He’d also kept two rifles in the back of his pickup. For hunting, supposedly, but he hadn’t been hunting in over a year before he died.

I suspected he knew I didn’t like the guns, and that was half the reason he kept them around. He definitely knew I didn’t like hunting, but he used to make me come out and shoot at deer all the same.

I’d ended up learning way more about guns than I’d ever wanted to, and I was pretty sure the man’s gun was a 9mm Glock, which meant it had plenty of bullets left. I needed to get to it before he did.

There. I spotted it right at the edge of the clearing, a dull and deadly lump of black sunken into the blue-shadowed snow. I rushed for it, and the man must have seen it too, because suddenly his hands were on my ankles, dragging me back in the snow.

I kicked and flailed, hoping I’d connect with his face, or at least crush one of his hands hard enough to make him let go. I wouldnotlet him beat me, wouldnotlet him reach the gun first.

My foot made contact with something, and I heard a satisfying, “Fuck!” behind me. I pulled myself forward again and managed a few more feet in the snow. But my satisfaction was short-lived, because the next thing I felt was the man on my back, lying his whole body on top of mine.

Panic surged through me. No, no, no, no, no. Not this. I would not give in. I would not give up without a fight. I squirmed and writhed, fighting like mad to get out from under him. But he had me pinned.

I struck backwards with my hands, hoping to reach an eye or his nose, but it was hard to aim when I couldn’t see. And it was getting hard to breathe. The man’s weight was crushing my lungs. I wasn’t getting enough air, but I couldn’t pass out. Erika needed me.

Desperately, I inched forward, dragging the man’s weight with me, my stomach sliding in the snow. The gun was only two feet in front of me, three max. I could reach it. I could get there. I just had to drag myself a little farther forward. I stretched out my hand, reaching, and pain blossomed from the center of my face.

I was blinded, and for a moment, all thought left me. The pain was searing, all-encompassing. A hot blade and a dull ache at the same time. I blinked, seeing stars, and then droplets of dark liquid that splashed into my eyes.

Unbidden, my right hand abandoned the search for the gun and moved to my face. I touched my nose, recoiling instantly. Even the gentle brush of my fingertips brought more pain. The man had elbowed me in the nose. Maybe broken it.

And now that I’d stopped struggling, he was moving past me. He was going for the gun, going to get it before I could. I reached out blindly, my hand catching his trouser leg. I pulled on it, but the next instant, his foot slammed back, making contact with my face.

I screamed, falling back into the snow. I couldn’t see. Couldn’t think. I couldn’t even breathe. I was alone in a world of pain, falling ever deeper into an abyss.

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