Page 77 of Blackwood

“Pete, come on. Give me a shot. I’ve been working out and practicing and—”

“Oh, for the love of Christ.” He released his hold on my throat, and I choked down huge gulps of air. “Make it quick. We have to bury Rory and her, and we don’t have that dumb fuck Danny to do it for us anymore.”

“Okay. I can do it.” Mayor Freeman pulled his gun off his shoulder and rested it against the front of his camouflage coat. “Run.”

Sheriff Crow stepped back and put his hands on his hips. “Get going. Might as well use you for target practice. Waste not, want not.”

“Fuck you.” My voice barely cut through the cold stillness.

“Run or I’ll put a bullet in your face.” The sheriff pulled out his service pistol and aimed it at my forehead.

An idea took root in the chaos of my mind. “I’ll run.” I coughed, and agony streaked through my body. “But you have to give me a head start.”

Sheriff Crow smiled and slapped the mayor on the back. “We can do that, right Len?”

“I’d rather not. We’re in a hurry, and—”

“You want to shoot her in the back after she’s taken three steps? That’s not very sporting of you. We can do better than that.” Sheriff Crow grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me forward. “Give her the full Lodge experience.” He shoved me, and I managed to stay upright from sheer will.

“Twenty minutes.” I took a step backwards.

Sheriff Crow laughed, real mirth crinkling the skin around his eyes. “Five.”

“Ten.”

“Think you can handle stalking a wounded bitch after ten minutes?” Crow glanced at the mayor.

“Yes.” The mayor puffed out his chest and snugged his rifle tighter in his arms.

“We’ll see. If you can’t, then I’m going to do it with my hands.”

“Deal.” Mayor Freeman smiled, like a child given a chance to impress a grown-up.

Sheriff Crow took his hat off and waved it at me. “Run, rabbit, run.”

I turned and stumbled away through the undergrowth.

“Need to go faster than that.” Sheriff Crow laughed.

I didn’t look back, just kept moving through the woods, back toward the road, toward the SUV with the shotgun inside.

One foot in front of the other, I stepped as quickly as the pain in my stomach allowed, each footfall sending a jarring misery through me. But I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t.

I passed through the clearing and tried to avoid looking at Rory. Until I didn’t. Until I realized Rory had a gun.Fuck.I yanked his coat up, but his holster was empty. Sheriff Crow must have already taken it. My fingers had lost feeling, but I shoved them into his pockets looking for anything I could use as a weapon. In his right pocket I found a small knife. No keys, nothing that could get me out of this frozen hell.

I could stay here. Just wait. The end was coming—either a bullet, bleeding out, or the sheriff’s hands around my throat. The row of graves blurred as I swayed on my knees.No.I pressed my palm against the wound, the pain dragging me back to the present, to the cold eventuality of my death if I failed to move.

How long?I didn’t know how much time had passed by the time I forced myself back to my feet and began stumbling toward the road. My forward progress took all my effort. One step, another step. If I was moving, I had a chance. So I kept pushing forward, even as my vision began to dim and my legs felt as if they were fighting against quicksand.

I saw the glint of the truck up ahead when the Sheriff’s voice cut through the woods. “Ready or not, here we come!”

Step, step, step. After an eternity, my feet hit gravel, and I fell against the truck. With what was left of my strength, I yanked the passenger door open. Leaning across the seat, I grabbed the shotgun and tried to pull it free. I couldn’t feel it, couldn’t tell if I had even moved it. My knees hit the running board just as the back passenger window shattered, a rifle shot roaring through the trees.

They’d caught up. It was only a matter of moments. I didn’t have time to cry. And all I could think was that I’d finally found what I’d been looking for, but the price of knowledge had turned out to be far too high. I pulled myself into the passenger side and closed the door. Curling into the fetal position in the floorboard, I stared at the sun-dappled woods through the driver’s side window as my eyes began to flutter closed.

Another slug lodged into the side of the truck. The faint sound of gravel crunching beneath boots told me I was done. All done. And I was…relieved. I let my eyes close as more shots rang out. So many shots. Someone yelled my name.

No, not my name. The color that soaked my shirt, my coat, my hands. Red.

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