Danni was well aware that there were few things stupider than trying to sneak into a firefight. One stray shot was all it would take.
But it was an opportunity to turn the tables. She well remembered the slaughter at Bonanza Creek. Hiding, waiting for help, none of it had quelled the bloodlust of the rabid beasts. It only ended once they stopped running and fought back.
It was foolish to think it might be different now. She was outnumbered and against a persistent foe in woodlands they knew far better than she did. Her only advantage was that she was armed and the Lesterfields were currently distracted by some unknown third party.
From the sound of things, the response from that other group was desperate and scattered. They wouldn’t last long. But the thunderous reports as the Lesterfields peppered their location with gunfire were the perfect cover for Danni to make her move.
Keeping low, she spotted something through the trees ahead. At first she thought it was nothing more than a trick of her eyes, but then it raised a weapon and fired into the darkness beyond.
Danni leaned the single-shot rifle against a tree then crept forward. It was definitely one of those monsters. Not even the cover of night could completely hide that fact.
He never stood a chance. Between the shots he fired and those coming from elsewhere around them, he didn’t notice her sneak up from behind. She leveled her shotgun at his back and pulled the trigger – no words, no snarky comments, nothing but vengeful judgment against this family who so casually assumed they could do whatever they pleased to those they deemed weaker than themselves.
Danni took no pleasure in ending this mockery of a man, but she felt no pity either. Her mind kept going back to two things: Adam pushing her onto the bed, and Abigail’s shrunken form hiding away in her cell – no more than a shell of a person.
She was on the move again before the body even hit the forest floor, cutting a hard right through some bushes and heading toward another member of this inhuman family, one too occupied with trying to kill his intended target to know that death was coming for him instead.
♦ ♦ ♦
They were fucked and Eric knew it. He and Sullivan were pinned as bullets flew everywhere. Worse, they were unable to get a clear bead on anything, doing little more than firing randomly into the brush.
At least Sullivan had the good sense to douse their lights the moment they hit the dirt. Otherwise this would have been a very short, extremely lopsided gun battle. As it was, it seemed their only hope was to return fire blindly, so as to keep their assailants from charging in and gunning them down, but it was doubtful that would be a viable defense for long.
It was hard to tell how many were out there, but they were definitely outnumbered if his ringing ears were any indication.
Where the fuck are Hopper and Muellenberg?
For that matter, where was Jenner? Much as he hated to admit it, the man had saved their asses once. Eric wasn’t so stubborn that he wouldn’t take a second assist.
Probably still thinks I’m gonna arrest him. Well, screw that. At this point the governor could go fuck himself. Eric didn’t care about bringing Jenner in so much as he wished he’d turned back with Bob and Vasquez.
Unfortunately, wishes weren’t horses, and waiting for a cavalry that most likely wasn’t coming was a surefire way to make sure they’d be nothing but corpses come morning.
He reached over and tapped Sullivan on the arm, almost causing the other man to turn his gun on him in surprise. Eric wasn’t entirely unsympathetic to the concept of panic at that moment, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t bitch him out later, if there was a later. “We need to get out of here!”
Sullivan nodded and started to get up, but Eric pulled him back down. “Crawl, you idiot!”
Eric loaded a fresh magazine into his gun and began to fire while the other man took the lead, fanning his aim through the foliage and hoping to provide enough cover to buy them a few minutes. He then rolled onto his belly and followed Sullivan, praying their luck held.
Sullivan disappeared through a small stand of bushes and Eric followed, moving as fast as his prone position would allow. He just had to hope Marcus didn’t panic and open fire directly into his face the moment he was through.
Up ahead, Eric spotted Sullivan’s feet and legs working their way through the bushes. If they could reach something – a hollow, the trunk of a large tree, anything that could provide some cover – they’d have a fighting chance. They could more properly return fire and potentially cover each other’s retreat.
Sullivan continued to crawl forward, putting a little more speed into his movements.
There came a lull in the gunfire, their unseen foes probably reloading for another volley, and then Eric heard a strange noise from up ahead. There came the snap of a stick, then a strangled gasp, followed by the sound of leaves being disturbed. He watched as Sullivan’s feet were suddenly dragged forward and out of the bushes.
What the fuck?!
Ignoring the danger all around him, Eric pushed himself up enough to get a clear view and found that Sullivan had triggered another trap, this one a snare. Except, rather than his leg, it had closed around his neck.
Sullivan’s feet hung about two feet off the ground while his hands desperately clawed at the rope strangling him.
“Shit,” Eric hissed.
He began to clamber to his feet when a light was shined in their direction, illuminating his struggling teammate. Their pursuers immediately opened fire again. Sullivan’s body jerked as multiple rounds hit home. His arms fell slack to his side even as he continued to be peppered with bullets.
Marcus was dead and, Eric realized with even greater horror, their attackers now knew where he was.
He was trapped like a rat against enemies he couldn’t possibly hope to overcome.
Eric glanced back in the direction he’d come from. He could see lanterns shining through the brush, coming his way. Whoops of unearthly laughter could be heard between the shots that continued to hit the body of his teammate.
All at once, Eric understood why the others hadn’t come to his aid. They were, in all likelihood, already dead.
He was truly alone.
But not for long.
Someone, or something, pushed through the bushes to Eric’s right and held up its lantern to Sullivan’s body. In the dim illumination Eric could see the leering grin, the leathery skin, and the three-fingered hand which held its light source.
Though he’d seen one of those things’ corpses, it had seemed almost surreal at the time, lifeless as it was. But here now, seeing this creature in the flesh prodding his teammate’s body with the butt of its rifle, the true horror of the situation finally dawned on Eric.
He aimed and opened fire, emptying the magazine into the creature before it turned and noticed him.
It went down as the last of the bullets left his gun, but he wasn’t fooled. More were coming. He could hear their cries of outrage and anger even as they opened fire again.
They knew this forest better than he. Even if he managed to run, they’d find him. What then? He glanced once more at Sullivan, his mind awash with whatever horrors these things might have in store for him.
Suddenly, everything else – his job, the governor, all of it – seemed so insignificant compared to escaping this nightmare in any way he could.
Eric ejected the magazine and loaded a fresh one, his last.
That was okay, though. He just needed to be careful with his count. Depending on how the next few minutes went, he would have to make certain he kept one bullet in reserve.
♦ ♦ ♦
“We need to get back, report this.”
“No,” Derek replied. “You need to shut up and do what you’re told. I’m not playing your boss’s game anymore. I’m here to find my people and I don’t give one flying shit about the governor, politics, or the goddamned law. Either suck it up, or you’re free to find your own way back.”
“I’d think hard on that one,” Julia said, pushing past Kyle. “The woods are not a friendly place tonight, and they’re going to be even less friendly for anyone standing between me and my sister.”
Kyle Muellenberg wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into. This crap definitely wasn’t in his job description. A part of him wished he’d ignored his cell phone earlier when Bob had called him in, but he needed the overtime. The divorce had drained him financially, leaving him in no position to be choosy.
Broke was better than dead, though. More and more, that latter choice seemed the most likely outcome of this ill-fated outing. He’d been half-certain he was going to be shot when he first came across Jenner’s crew, at least based on the bile Eric had been spewing. He’d instead been conscripted. On the upside, they appeared to be far more adept at being out here than Eric and the others were. The downside was they didn’t seem inclined to leave.
The only question now was how to spin this once it was all over so that he didn’t get fired, but that was definitely a worry for later. For now, staying alive was at the top of his list. Finding his teammates was secondary, but that seemed to be more in the hands of fate than in...
“Jesus!”
Kyle had fallen a bit behind in his wool gathering, but the cry from up ahead jolted him out of his reverie.
He raced to catch up and stepped into a small clearing, finding his new, and quite temporary, teammates standing there stunned at what was before them.
It took Kyle’s mind a moment to wrap around what he was seeing. Two men, one straddling the other, his hands around his throat. The one on the bottom lay limp and unmoving. The one on the top ... there was something off about his face.
The impasse was broken a mere second later as the man with the strange face leapt to his feet and bolted into the woods, just as Julia raised her gun.
“Son of a bitch!” She fired, the noise deafeningly loud this close, although he doubted she hit anything.
That seemed to spur the others to action.
The one in the lead, the medic, ran to the downed man. The leader, Jenner, turned to him and the reporter. “You, help Mitch. Do whatever he tells you to. Julia, you’re with...”
He was too late. She was already speeding off in pursuit.
Kyle, still trying to process what was happening, said, “Are you sure it’s a good idea to split...”
But Jenner had already disappeared into the forest after her, leaving him behind.
♦ ♦ ♦
Ezekiel winced as he pulled his hand away from his side, feeling the wetness seeping through his shirt. It was too dark to see, but he knew it was blood. Thankfully, it only seemed to be a scratch – painful, but not enough to slow him down as he ran for his life.
He still wasn’t sure what had happened. One moment he was certain he’d heard Noah close by. The boy had clearly heard it, too. He’d used the distraction to rush him, thinking his kin would step in to end their scuffle quick and clean. But that hadn’t happened.
Instead, Ezekiel had wrestled with the boy, each clambering for purchase with neither finding it. The young man had been no fighter, that much was obvious, but then neither was he. His strength had always lay in his mind as opposed to his arms, but he’d been in more than one scrape in his life and at least knew how to take a punch.
His opponent was sloppy, unsure of himself, and ultimately stupid.
The boy had broken free at one point and made a mad dash for his gun. That was his undoing. Ezekiel wasn’t particularly strong, but he was a survivor – smart enough to know you didn’t turn your back on an enemy who still had his wits about him.
He’d tackled the boy to the ground, managed to pin his arms, and then wrapped his hands around the young man’s throat. He’d squeezed with everything he had, pressing his thumbs into the intruder’s windpipe until his hands went numb. By then it was all but over. The young man’s eyes had rolled up into his head and his struggles had become little more than errant twitches.
He’d won, proven his will to survive was superior, but there’d been no time to celebrate his victory. Just as he was about to let go and claim the boy’s weapon as his own, more trespassers had stepped into the clearing.
That wasn’t the worst of it, though. Far from it. The worst was that one of them had been a ghost. Though their lights had been in his eyes, he’d seen well enough. One didn’t easily forget the face of a man sentenced to death. It was impossible – he’d seen the TV host and his companion both die.
Alas, it had seemed a poor time to stick around and ask questions. He’d bolted but one of them had opened fire first, managing to nick him in the side.
Now he raced through the woods as quick as he could, relying on his memory more than his sight – thinking of nothing except putting distance between himself and them. He needed to find the rest of the family and direct them back the way he’d come. The intruders would think twice once they were faced with the full might of his kin.
Even better, he’d caught a glimpse of long hair just before he’d fled. That meant the possibility of welcoming a new Sarah into the fold. That would make up for things. One for Noah and one for the rest to share.
Speaking of his nephew, though, he planned to have words with him. Where the hell had he gotten himself off to?
The gunfire up ahead had fallen silent. That meant his kin had made the kill, were probably even now divvying up the spoils of war. That was good. Less trespassers to divide their atten... “UGH!”
A dark shape leapt from the trees ahead and slammed into him. In the gloom of the night, it was little more than a shadow, a shade, and for a moment Ezekiel was certain that God’s reaper himself had come for him.
But then a fist, cold and wet, struck his jaw, momentarily stunning him.
He staggered back, dazed, and the shadow fell upon him, tackling him to the ground. He looked up and found the stars above blacked out by a mass of darkness. The only thing visible were two eyes, devoid of mercy, that stared down at him.
“Remember me, asshole?” Sarah’s voice asked him, seemingly dredged in hatred itself. “Here’s your wedding gift.”
Before Ezekiel could so much as open his mouth to question why God had sent this angel of death to him, seven inches of cold steel was plunged into his chest, making it all a moot point.