Page 94 of Into The Light
"Fuck," Riley growls. “Looks like we found him."
Another shotgun blast rings out, and I scream. "Bear!"
Riley's truck skids to a halt, just in time for a third concussing blast to shudder through the still, warm night. The trailer is long and low, once white and now a dirty off-white, with cinderblock stairs, a leaning fragment of black metal railing, and filthy, grime-smeared windows. A gray, twenty-year-old sedan is parked in front, the lights on, the engine running and the driver’s side door open, the chime dinging repeatedly. Light sprays upward in narrow, pin-thin streams from the ceiling of the trailer; a fourth blast creates more holes.
Felix's truck halts an angle near Riley's, and Felix jumps out. Riley hops out too, glancing back at me. "Stay in the truck."
“Bear," I whimper as yet another blast goes off, more holes appearing in the ceiling.
A split second later, a shotgun sails through the front window of the trailer and lands in the dirt at Riley's feet.
Despite Riley's instruction, I get out, but I shut the door to keep Panzer inside. "Do something!” I shout.
A bellowing roar shudders the trailer—Bear. Pain. Anger. Animal rage.
Riley and Felix trade looks. "I'm not going in there. My money's on Bear," Felix says.
"He'll kill him!" I scream. "Stop him!"
Both men stare at me. "How the hell are we supposed to stop him?" Riley asks.
A crash shakes the trailer.
Another.
A man howls—Duane. The already shattered window splinters out of the walls as an entire Lay-Z-Boy recliner flies through it, bowing the wall outward and causing the whole structure to lean precariously.
"Holy shit," Riley mutters. "Glad I'm not Duane."
A pistol goes sailing through the window to land in the dirt—it's bloody.
Bear's roar of rage echoes again, and Duane himself staggers past the opening where the window used to be. Bear follows, reaching for him.
"Bear!" Riley shouts. "Stop!"
No answer.
The door of the trailer, already hanging askew, smashes backward, hits the exterior wall, and falls to the ground. Duane flies backward through the open doorway, slams hard into the dirt with an agonized screech, and rolls another six feet, flopping to a stop nearly a dozen feet from the door.
Bear appears in the doorway. Hulking, chest heaving, his face a rictus of murderous rage, his once white T-shirt is tattered and crimson-stained. A knife handle protrudes from his back near his shoulder. His nose is broken, sluicing blood down his front, and his torso leaks blood from several wounds to his chest and stomach.
He stomps out of the trailer and leaps off the porch, striding with grim intent toward Duane's prone, sobbing, pleading form.
Riley's arm circles my waist, hauling me back. "You can't get near him in that state, Noelle."
"LET ME GO!" I screech, thrashing. "BEAR!"
I fight against Riley's hold as violently as I did to get away from Duane, if not harder.
Felix rushes at Bear, grabbing at his arm—Bear doesn't seem to see him or recognize him. He brushes Felix off as if he's no more than a buzzing fly, shoving him absently aside; Felix, all six-two and two hundred pounds of him, goes sprawling in the dirt.
Bear reaches Duane, fists his shirt one-handed, hauls him to his feet, shakes him once like a rag doll, and then takes two spinning steps like an Olympic hammer thrower and hurls Duane six or eight feet into the side of the trailer. Siding cracks, the frame splinters, and the roof caves in where the structure has been compromised. Duane lands heavily in the dirt at the base of the trailer, sprawled awkwardly, limp.
Desperate to stop Bear before he kills Duane, I bite into Riley's arm. He lets me go in shock, and I sprint across the dirt lot.
I grab Bear's arm and haul on him. "Bear!STOP!It's me. Stop. Stop. Please stop. Please stop.”
He registers my presence, at least, his eyes flicking to me, recognition fluttering in his gaze. "Move." His voice is ragged and raw, guttural and grating.
