Page 71 of New Year

Zack.

Zack had found him, by some miracle, but now he was walking into an ambush. Nat looked out the other side of his hiding place. Another pair of shoes, shiny work shoes, moving his way. He wasn’t being careful, he was running, because he thought Austin’s modified shouts were coming from Nat.

Austin was going to kill Zack.

Fuck!

“Zack, stop!” Nat screamed as loudly as he could with his raw throat.

A gunshot echoed in the quiet, and the dirt erupted by Nat’s hand. He yelped and jerked away. Then two men shouted, thudded, and the scuffle boomed like thunder in Nat’s ringing ears. He scrambled out of his hiding spot. Zack and Austin were tumbling around on the ground, snarling and grunting, trading furious punches. Neither of them seemed to have the gun, and they were struggling for control of a baseball bat.

Nat cast about for the gun, which wasn’t easy to spot, all black in the darkening forest, its ground covered in last year’s leaf fall and broken branches. The knife. He reached back under the log, feeling for the knife he’d left. His fingers closed around the handle, and he sat up. Turned. Austin drove the bat into Zack’s stomach. Zack gasped and bent. Nat screamed when Austin clipped the side of Zack’s head with the bat.

Zack hit the ground with a sickening thud.

A brand-new, sweeping rage filled Nat, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. He barreled toward Austin, who wasn’t prepared for Nat to slam his shoulder right into Austin’s gut, sending them both sprawling to the forest floor. Something snapped where they landed. Nat rolled left, right on top of Austin’s arm. Austin screamed and released the bat. Nat twisted his upper body and raised his right hand, prepared to plunge the pocketknife into Austin’s throat.

Austin’s lower body lurched, and Nat couldn’t avoid the solid kick to his back from Austin’s booted foot. It must have connected with his existing wound, because the jolt of agony that tore up Nat’s spine made his vision blur. He lurched sideways, away, and fell on his left side. Austin was immediately on him, prying the knife from his hand. Nat’s left hand was trapped awkwardly beneath his own body. Austin punched Nat with his own left hand, the blow grazing his chin, but Nat fought.

He fought for his life.

Austin punched him again, right in the ear, and Nat shrieked. “Zack!”

Nat was losing. Austin ripped the knife from him. The silver blade glinted in a small shaft of sunlight for a fraction of a second before Austin plunged it at Nat’s chest. Intense pressure stunned Nat into relaxing all limbs. He stared stupidly up at Austin’s wild-eyed, open-mouthed face, unsure. Until Austin pulled and the white-hot agony of the blade sliding back out tore another shriek from Nat.

“Goddamn you!” Zack.

Austin moved out of sight. Shouts, thuds, threats. Zack made a distressed sound.

No.

Nat wanted to crawl under a pile of leaves and sleep, but not yet. Not until Zack was safe. He skimmed his fingers through the brush, seeking, hoping. Maybe it was nearby. He had to try. He rolled and crawled, desperate to find it, uncaring of his body’s overwhelming exhaustion. The battle continued nearby, like two gladiators fighting to the death. He couldn’t let Zack die, not for him.

He brushed something smooth and metal. Closed his fingers around the butt. All except the finger he slid into the trigger guard. Rested over the trigger. With more energy than he thought he possessed, Nat sat up. Focused.

Zack was on his back, using both hands to fend off Austin’s downward attack, that bloody knife pointed at Zack’s throat. Nat had only fired a gun one time, when Zack took him to a gun range two weeks ago. He’d hated it then, and he hadn’t been a great shot. Today, he didn’t have a choice.

He used his bandaged left hand to steady his right, did his best to aim with slightly blurred vision, and squeezed the trigger.

* * *

Zack had panicked, and it was about to cost him his life.

He’d searched the woods with no real sense of direction, other than following the distant voice that came intermittently. The acoustics of the forest made it difficult to be sure if he was heading the right way, but Nat was out there. His gut was screaming at him that Nat was in trouble, and if he waited for the sheriff, Nat would die.

Then a shaft of sunlight glinted off something red, and Zack froze. A smear of fresh blood on the leaves of a waist-tall bush sent his adrenaline into overdrive. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from yelling, “Nat!” The lone word bounced around him, the forest mocking him for his stupidity.

The forest surprised him by answering back. The word was indecipherable, and he strained to hear more. Another shout, higher pitched, yelling for help. “Nat! Where are you?” He started running in what he hoped was the right direction

“Nat!”

“Zack, stop!

Yeah, he’d fucked up. The gunshot had startled him into freezing, and Austin had tackled him. Gotten control of the bat, and before Zack could reach for the pepper spray or Taser, he’d been clocked in the head. Zack had been too stunned to move, until he’d heard Nat scream his name. He’d sat up in time to see Austin stab Nat in the chest.

Zack used to pride himself on being logical, on thinking his actions through, and never reacting in anger.

All those traits flew out the door.

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