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Tilda backed her pickup out of the driveway at Nicholas's farm spinning snow and ice twenty feet. She jerked the car forward as she turned around and headed for the main road. She was angry, and the voices in her head were screaming. Her hands shook so badly on the steering wheel the car jerked back and forth. She had almost reached the road when she slammed on brakes again and lowered her head onto the steering wheel and covered her ears with her arms. The voices had become her reality. KILL NICHOLAS, KILL NICHOLAS, KILL.
Tilda left the vehicle, got on her knees in the snow, and scooped handful after handful of the cold wetness, wiping each handful over her ears and head as she tried to freeze out the voices. Finally, they quieted, and the silence paralyzed her for an instant. Then she stood and went to the back of the pickup truck and opened the tailgate. Nicholas shook violently. She grabbed his feet, pulled him toward her, and tried to sit him up on the side of the tailgate. It was hopeless. Nicholas couldn't sit up; his injuries, particularly his shoulder, made it impossible for him to maintain his balance.
Tilda met his eyes and was stunned by the fear in them.
"Nicholas, Nicholas, what’s wrong?"
Nicholas stared at her, his eyes enormous with fear. He was shaking so hard he could hardly speak. "What are you going to do with me?"
Tilda gave him a sweet smile. "I'm gonna put you in the backseat where it's warm. Then, we're gonna go find Allison Massie, and we’re going to kill her."
"You're going to kill her?"
"Of course, I'm going to kill her, you idiot," Tilda snapped. "She knows way too much."
Nicholas shook his head, and his voice quavered as he spoke, "No, no, Tilda. Let's take her downtown to the port. Or we can call Dimitri. They want her. She’ll bring them a lot of money," he begged.
Tilda shook her head. “There’s no way. She knows us, and she’ll finger us to the cops and the FBI. Let me help you into the backseat, and we’ll find her. She couldn't be too far away. After all, she’s on foot." Tilda reached to pull him from the truck.
Nicholas shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. She’ll never set foot on American soil again in her life.”
Tilda ignored him and lifted Nicholas into the seat. The pain was excruciating, and Nicholas hollered with each movement.
“Just get in there, Nicholas. Don’t be such a sissy,” Tilda muttered angrily.
"No, no, please no seatbelt," Nicholas cried. "It will hurt too much."
“Okay.” Tilda rolled her eyes and packed snow in his groin area to stop the flow of blood trailing down his leg onto the truck floor.
“Wilbur’s gonna have a shit fit when he sees this truck.” She blocked her mind against the metallic stench of the blood. “I've got to stop the bleeding, or you’ll die," she told Nicholas.
Nicholas nodded as his teeth chattered and his shoulders shook, causing him even more agony.
Tilda started the truck and drove slowly toward the wood line, her headlights on low beam. The last thing she wanted to do was to bring attention to herself this late at night, especially with a brutally injured man in her truck, three bodies back in Richmond, and a dead state trooper. She shined her low beams into the snow and looked for tracks but didn't see any at all. She turned the heat on for just a moment to warm up her brain and spur her thinking. She didn’t want Nicholas too warm or his leg would bleed more quickly.
She turned and asked, "Is Allison injured?” she asked.
Nicholas was so cold he could barely speak. His teeth chattered, and he shook with cold. "I... I don't really remember. I think she is. I kept her unconscious with insulin and drugs most of the time, but I don’t remember if she is injured." he admitted, afraid to meet Tilda’s eyes.
Tilda nodded and looked around. She spied a barn located across the road about a hundred yards down from her truck. "I bet I know where the little bitch is," she snarled, her face contorted with anger.
Nicholas was silent. It was the first time he’d ever thought of Tilda as ugly or unattractive. Her face was a caricature of evil.
Tilda leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. "I’m going over to that barn, the one with the lights on and take care of Allison. Then I'll take you back to the office, get you cleaned up and figure out if we need to go to the hospital.
Nicholas gave her an uncertain smile and closed his eyes. He looked at the barn out of his window. “That’s a chicken hatchery. Two farmers own it together. It’s full of laying hens. I’m positive she’s not there.”
Tilda smiled happily. “Oh, good. It’ll be nice and warm. They gotta keep it warm for the chickens to lay eggs, and I’m sure all those chickens put off a little heat. And besides, I’ll break a few chicken necks while I’m in there... after I take care of the little bitch of course,” she chuckled.
Nicholas was silent.
“When we’re done, I’ll put the dead chickens in the back of the truck, and I’ll make my chicken casserole you love so much.” Her eyes danced with joy about the possibility of killing Allison and a few chickens.
Nicholas remained silent.