Page 62 of Survive the Night
Sarah started to shake. If they meant to hurt Bean, she wouldn’t be able to keep hiding. She’d have to do something to prevent it.
“Who cares,” another voice came. It sounded familiar, and Sarah wondered if it was a person she knew. How many times had they passed each other in the hallway or on the grounds? She might have greeted him cheerfully, not realizing that he would one day hunt her down…that he might possibly be the one to kill her. “Just leave it. Let’s search the place and go.”
“We’re going to just leave the horse in here? What if it starves to death?” The voice was closer, clearer, and Sarah started making frantic plans in her head. If they spotted her, she could run or fight or…do something. The stall itself didn’t have any escape hatch, except for the one sliding door. She’d basically locked herself in a cage. There was no escape if they found her.
“It’s not our problem,” the second, deeper voice said. “Someone’ll find it. Cops and feds’ll be all over this place tomorrow.”
“Nope. We’ve wiped out their systems. No phones, radios, cells, wireless… They’re not talking to nobody.” The first guy sounded almost giddy.
“Let it out, then, if you want.” The second man said in a bored voice. “It’ll survive on its own. There are wild horses all over the place out here, I’ve heard.”
“Yeah?” He sounded too close, too loud. “That’s awesome. It’s like the wild, wild West out here.”
She needed a plan, or at least a weapon. Why hadn’t she grabbed that sledgehammer when she had a chance? That did remind her of her knife, and she very gingerly unzipped the main pocket on the pack. The nylon fabric vibrated with Bob’s growls, and Sarah said a silent prayer of gratitude that the thunderous noises outside covered any sound from either the annoyed cat or from her attempts at quietly opening the pack. Finally, there was a hole large enough for her to slip her hand in. She felt around for the knife. It seemed to take forever, and she was afraid that the sliding door would open at any second. Finally, her fingers closed around the cool metal of the knife, and she almost sobbed in gratitude.
“I’ll let him out, then.” His voice was so clear that he had to be right next to the stall door. Sarah started breathing in quick gulps. “Hey, there’s a goat in there, too! Can I let the goat out? Are there wild goats?”
“Yeah, dumb-ass. Haven’t you heard of mountain goats?”
“Right. I’ll let both of them go, then.”
“You do that.” At least the second man was on the other side of the barn, judging by the faintness of his voice.
As she pulled the weapon out of the pack, Mort started leaning toward the sliding door. Sarah caught his collar, mentally begging him to stay quiet and still. Xena pressed against her, as if she could hear Sarah’s pleading thoughts. Sarah was concentrating so hard on Mort, so worried that he’d start to bark, that she wasn’t watching Bean.
When the horse charged toward the door, it startled Sarah so much that she almost shrieked, swallowing down the scream at the last moment before it escaped. Bean, ears pinned, snaked his head toward the door, striking out at it with a front hoof. The slam of metal on metal as the edging on the door hit the frame rang out, louder than the wind or the raging fire outside.
“Shit!” The man’s voice was farther from the stall, and Sarah started to shake, partially in relief and partially from fear. “That thing’s crazy!”
Bean struck the door again, the loud bang making Sarah jump.
“It’s a demon horse,” the guy said. He was still a good distance from the stall, and Sarah began to breathe more slowly. Good boy, Bean. Keep him away. “His eyes are glowing red. Hey, Shelton! Check it out. His eyes are all possessed and shit, like that statue at the airport.”
“I’m going to be all ‘possessed and shit’ if you don’t help me search and quit messing around with that horse.”
The man moved away from the stall, his grumbling about ungrateful devil horses getting fainter and fainter until Sarah could only hear the wind and fire again. Her hand dropped from Mort’s collar as the dog relaxed slightly, although she kept a hand on his back, stroking him lightly with her fingers.
Now that her heart wasn’t thundering in her ears, Sarah could hear the faint drone of Bob’s growls, but she hoped the men couldn’t hear or, if they could, they would just assume it was the wind. She patted the pack lightly where a catlike bulge was, but that only increased the growling, so she moved her hand away.
“It’s clear,” Shelton said, his voice just loud enough for Sarah to make out his words. “She must’ve been in the house. Let’s go back to town. One down; one to go.”
“Target practice!” the other man laughed loudly, making both Sarah and Xena start. “Boom!”
The roaring of the wind and flames was deafening for a moment until they shut the door behind them with a bang. Sarah sat in the stall for a long time, even after she heard the sound of what she was guessing was a helicopter. White spotlights lit up the barn, making Bean shift uneasily, his head high in the air. The whump-whump-whump that they’d heard before running for the bunker was almost unbearably loud, but it faded gradually until they were left with just the red glow from the fire and the howling wind.
Sarah climbed to her feet, her muscles protesting being held in such a tense, crouched position for so long. Peeking over the solid half-wall, she made sure no one else was there before straightening completely. A part of her remained terrified that the guys were still both there, waiting right outside the stall. She didn’t truly believe they were gone until she saw the empty barn.
Urgency flowed through her. She carefully lifted the backpack, sliding her arms through the straps and buckling the one around her waist to keep the pack as stable as possible. Poor Bob. He was such a good cat. If he’d yowled, even once, their hiding place would’ve been discovered. Sarah’s skin prickled with sweat at the thought.
Moving carefully toward Bean, she tried to push down her anxiety. He didn’t need her amping up his nerves. The aggressive display had freaked her out a little, though. Before, he’d seemed flighty, but Sarah hadn’t expected the charging and striking. He shifted, his ears flicking toward her and then to the sides, as if to take in as many sounds as possible.
“Hey, Bean,” she said softly, probably too quietly for even the horse to hear. Having to speak kept her breathing, though. “You feel like getting out of here? I know that your house didn’t get blown to bits like ours did, but I’d rather not leave you here alone. What do you say?” After a few tense seconds, he blew out a breath and lowered his head slightly. His ears were still swiveling around, but Sarah couldn’t blame him for that. She was jumping at every sound, too.
Moving slowly to his left side, she slid the halter on, buckling it with shaking fingers. As she pushed the stall door open and led Bean out, she glanced at the goat.
“Coming, Hortense?” If she had to lead the goat, too, that was going to take a hand—and a halter—she didn’t have. To her relief, Hortense snatched one more bite of hay before following them out of the stall. The dogs surged out last, staying clear of Bean’s hooves. Circling around, Mort took the lead again, heading toward the barn doors, while Xena walked close to Sarah’s left side.
Bean stared at everything, but he didn’t spook or yank away or crash into Sarah or do any of the hundred things that she feared he’d do. Sarah looked at the main barn doors, but her paranoia about someone waiting outside for them was strong—even more than when she was in the stall, scared to look around. Besides, there was a raging snowstorm happening outside. Her gaze turned toward the tunnel entrance.
