Page 2 of Harvest Brew With the Mountain Man
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” I yell.
“Oh, fuck yeah. A feisty fresh cunt? Even better.”
I twist my torso, kicking the one holding my arms.
Cursing, his grip loosens. I turn and run into the trees. I don’t get far. A heavy weight slams into my back, taking me to the ground, face-first. I’m flipped around as another catches up and fists my hair at the top of my head, pulling. The one who knocked me down unbuttons my jeans.
My body floods with ice.No, no, no.
I try clawing his face as he pulls my jeans down quickly—too quickly—while ripping off my boots.
I scream even though my vocal cords are raw and painful.
“Fuck, I deserve this,” he grunts, undoing his pants.
I look up at the asshole pulling my hair, who’s darkly laughing. The rain is like small knives hitting my eyes. I see his weapon peeking from inside his patch jacket.
He’s distracted enough. I reach in and pull his gun out from his holster with both hands. I don’t second-guess. I shoot his torso, look down at the one by my feet, his dirty dick already displayed, and shoot it.
Guttural cries rip out of their throats as I’m released. I roll over, get to my feet, gun in hand, and run.
The others who stayed by the road come running. I hear their screams echo behind me as I continue sprinting into the woods. My body protests, aches blooming head to toe, but I can’t think about that. Adrenaline fuels me to run.
I duck as a bullet whistles by my head. I scream instinctively, point the gun behind me, and blindly shoot as I keep running, stumbling, and slipping on roots and branches in my thick socks that tear, poking my bare feet.
Black rock by the willow tree.
I know where I am.
I almost cry with relief, but focus on working out the back paths that only those who grew up in Eden Ridge would know. If I bank left, hop across the stream, then dive down the drop off, which from the top looks dangerous, I might get away. I’ve slid down that grassy hill so many winters as a child with a tarp.
The gun is out of ammo. I toss it, following the plan, while I ignore my lungs that want to explode. They feel so tight and heavy.
Tears obscure my vision, especially in this pitch darkness, but muscle memory propels me forward as their heaving grunts,vulgar calls, and continued gunfire urge me on to find someone, anyone in town at this time of night.
I slide down the divot on the far right that’s safe to maneuver and tuck under the brush at the bottom. I wait to hear them pass. I cover my mouth, but no matter how hard I try, my breathing sounds so loud. I’m too scared to get caught.
Forget waiting.I take off toward Main Street.
I can’t stop.
Oh, God. I can’t go home like this. I can’t draw them to my parents. And Drew. I can’t go to him. He’ll start a full-on MC war over this, risking his life. No. This is fucking Brian’s fault, and Brian is my problem. No one else’s.
I helplessly cry out when I finally burst through the forest edge into a back alley on Main Street. I lean against a brick building, keeping to the shadows. My body sags as I cover the sob that stutters my aching chest. I watch the forest edge, listening carefully for signs that they’ve found me. It’s hard to hear when the rain is battering roofs and pavement.
I can’t stay here.
I scan the streets. Everything closes early on Main Street. It’s gotta be past ten by now. I limp closer toward the sidewalk.
“Ridge Dive,” I whisper, eyes wide as relief renews life in my body.
The lights are on inside. It’s the local bar, so not surprising, but it’s also a Tuesday. If I remember correctly, they close early Monday through Thursday. I have no idea who’s there, but I have to get out of the open.
I carefully take the back areas of the businesses until I have to run across the street and around the building. My feet skid to a stop, seeing the huge pile of charred planks and furniture piling high by the back door.
A motorcycle revs up in the distance. My body startles, and I don’t think. I race to the back door that’s thankfully proppedopen and rush inside. I meant to find the storage room to hide out in, but adrenaline has my body continuing, almost reaching the front area, when I catapult straight into a strong, large chest.
Hands take hold of my arms, and fear steals all reason. I fight against my captor.
