CHEYENNE
After Griffin ran out of the storage area to help TJ, Cheyenne unfurled her cane and hurried after him, searching for Jaydra.
First her cane found the car Jaydra had driven. Cheyenne ran her hand along its side. Her fingers recognized the scratch she had accidentally made with Phantom’s harness when she first got him. It was Danielle’s Escalade. On the other side of the Escalade, guided by the sound of breathing that sounded all wrong, she found Jaydra.
She fell to her knees. “Are you okay?” Already knowing the answer was no.
In the barn behind her, Griffin was yelling at TJ, telling him to move away from the post. TJ was still screaming, but now he wasn’t even using words.
“Are you okay?” Jaydra asked her own question instead of answering Cheyenne’s. “I heard a gunshot.”
“It didn’t hit anybody. It happened when I disarmed the guy who shot you. Dwayne. He’s Roy’s brother. And then I choked him out with my cane, just like we practiced. Griffin helped me handcuff him.” In just the few seconds she had been by Jaydra’s side, the fire seemed to have gotten hotter. How fast was it spreading? Or maybe she should be worrying about what Dwayne would do once he regained consciousness. Cheyenne decided she would think about those things in a minute. Right now her priority was helping Jaydra.
“Way to go,” Jaydra wheezed. “Good job.”
“I had a good teacher.” Cheyenne had to swallow back tears. “How bad are you hurt?”
For the second time, Jaydra ignored the question. Instead she said, “My phone’s in my back pocket. Call 9-1-1.”
Cheyenne pulled the phone free. Even though she tried to be gentle, Jaydra hissed in pain. She held the phone out so Jaydra could dial, then put it to her ear.
“Nine-one-one operator,” a woman said briskly. “Police, fire, or medical?”
What should she answer? Around the corner, Dwayne was unconscious, handcuffed, and maybe brain damaged. Griffin and TJ were caught in the flames crackling behind her. And in front of her, Jaydra lay bleeding from a gunshot wound.
“All of them!” she panted. “Police, fire and an ambulance. And hurry!”
“What’s the address?”
I don’t know where I am, she wanted to scream. “Can’t you tell that from my phone?”
“It looks like you’re on a cell phone in a rural location, so it will take us a bit to triangulate. Can you give us any clues to narrow it down? A landmark? A nearby business?”
“I think we’re somewhere south of Portland.” She remembered what Griffin had said. “There’s nothing but fields around us. We’re in front of an abandoned barn or stable or something. And right now, it’s on fire!” The heat pressed against her back like a giant’s flat hand. “I don’t know the name of the road it’s on.”
Jaydra murmured something. Cheyenne leaned closer, putting one hand out to steady herself. It landed in a shallow warm pool. A pool of blood.
“Ralston,” Jaydra said, and then coughed. “Ralston Road.”
“Ralston Road,” Cheyenne repeated frantically to the operator. “I’ve been kidnapped! And there’s a woman who tried to help me, but she got shot. And she’s bleeding a lot. So you need to hurry!”
The operator’s voice was not quite so neutral now. “Where’s the kidnapper?”
“There’s two of them. And they’re tied up in the burning barn.”
“And what’s your name?”
A spark landed on the back of her hand. Biting back a shriek, she shook it off her hand, then said, “Cheyenne Wilder.”
“How old are you, honey?”
“Almost seventeen.” The fire sounded louder now. The flat hand on her back had changed to a giant iron.
“Okay, I need you to stay on the line with me until the police get there.”
“I can’t. She’s bleeding. I need to have both hands to help her.”
“Then put the phone on the ground, but don’t disconnect. We’ve got units headed your way, but they’re a few minutes out.”
Cheyenne did as the dispatcher instructed, then leaned over Jaydra. “They’ve got people coming, but it feels like you’re bleeding a lot. How can I stop it?”
“Find the entrance wound.” Jaydra had to pause between words. “On my left side.”
Thinking of Octavio, Cheyenne slipped her fingers under Jaydra’s T-shirt. She found a hole about a half inch across on the left side of her ribs. Under her fingertips, blood bubbled. “Should I put pressure on it?”
“Not yet. See if”—Jaydra moaned, and Cheyenne reflexively lifted her hand—“if you can find an exit wound.”
Gingerly, Cheyenne began to pat the far side of Jaydra’s torso with her other hand.
Jaydra swore. “Just stick your hand up my shirt. Wipe it over my skin and feel for blood.”
Cheyenne obeyed. Jaydra’s torso was slick, but when Cheyenne rubbed her fingers together, they weren’t tacky. It was just sweat, a lot of sweat, but not blood. “I can’t find an exit wound.”
“Good. One less hole to worry about. Ball up the bottom of my shirt and press it against the hole.” When she did, Jaydra gasped in pain. Cheyenne started to pull back, but Jaydra rasped out, “Keep pressing.” Her breaths sounded more like groans.
Both of them were also starting to cough. The air felt thick. Cheyenne’s eyes were watering, and she tasted ashes on her tongue. “How come you didn’t bring the cops with you?” she asked, then hoped it didn’t sound like an accusation.
“Your dad thought you went on a joyride. He didn’t want to get the cops involved.” Jaydra paused to cough. “We thought it’d work better if it was just one of us at first, not a posse. So I came. I could see your location, and when it started deviating from where the car was, I thought you might be hitchhiking. I didn’t let them know, because I wasn’t sure. Of course, none of us expected this.”
“I thought I was coming to help Griffin, but Dwayne, that guy who shot you, was pretending to be him.” Cheyenne ran Jaydra’s words back through her mind. “What do you mean, you could see my location? How did you know where I was?”
“Your new cane. I modified it. It has a GPS tracker inside.”
The same cane that had allowed her to turn the tables on Dwayne. Cheyenne said, “So I guess it saved me twice.”
Someone ran out of the barn. It was Griffin, coughing, choking, struggling to breathe. He dropped something on the ground. It was followed seconds later by the sound of vomit splattering. He gagged and heaved.
“Griffin!” TJ howled from the barn. “Don’t leave me! Please! I can’t die like this!”
Griffin took a long, shaky breath. Then Cheyenne heard him say to himself, “TJ’s right. Come on, Griff. Let’s do this.”
“No!” she shouted. “Griffin, don’t!”
But then she heard him run back into the inferno.