Page 35 of Searching Blind

Why wasn’t she reacting?

“I asked you a goddamn question,” the voice hissed.

He willed himself to stay calm. “I don’t know.”

The knife pressed down harder. “Liars bleed, Murphy. Just ask Maya. Now tell me where Pierce is.”

What the hell did Maya have to do with Pierce?

“I don’t fucking know,” he spat out, the pain making it hard to control his breathing. The blade’s pressure eased against his skin, and he exhaled in a rush.

“Bullshit,” the voice whispered. “You’re his best buddy, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Sawyer replied evenly, the sharp edge of the knife making his words come out more like a huff than actual speech. “But I haven’t seen him.”

There was a pause, then a soft, barely audible chuckle that made Sawyer’s stomach twist. “Funny. You’re a funny guy. You haven’t seen anyone in years.”

The grip on his arm slackened just a fraction. He took the chance, jerking free and lunging for the assailant even as pain ripped through his neck.

Everything was still for a moment, as if time itself was holding its breath. Then, without a word, his attacker withdrew the blade and vanished as abruptly and silently as they had appeared.

Darkness was everything and everywhere as Sawyer grappled with the shadowy figure. His fingers gripped onto a narrow wrist, the pulse beneath his fingertips erratic and thrumming. He was rewarded with a hissed intake of breath, and the figure recoiled, working to regain their balance on the uneven cabin floor.

Sawyer used it to his advantage, shoving hard against them, launching himself towards the table where he knew there were still two cans of bear spray. His hand slapped onto a canister just as a body hit him full force from behind.

The impact sent a jolt of pain through his already battered body, but he held tight to the bear spray. His vision was a useless morass of color and shadow, but his hearing, amplified by adrenaline, could pick up on the ragged breathing of his assailant. He twisted, aiming for where he thought they were, and pressed down hard on the canister’s trigger. The spray burst forth in a cloud of pressurized liquid, and Sawyer prayed it hit its mark.

A guttural cry followed by violent coughing confirmed that it had.

“What the hell?” Joel wheezed between coughs. “Why did you spray that shit in here?”

Wait.

Joel?

No. The kid couldn’t walk. There was no way he’d be able to attack a full-grown man twice his size.

Sawyer scrambled to his feet, his own eyes burning from the spray. “Did you see anyone just now?”

Joel coughed hard. “What? No! I heard you crashing around and woke up to find you spraying bear repellant like it was air freshener.”

“Someone was just in here.” He winced as pain radiated through his back. Fuck. He definitely pulled something. He raised a hand to check his neck and could feel the sticky warmth of blood smearing across his fingertips, but the wound didn’t seem to be too deep.

Joel let out another violent cough. “Oh my God. Are you sure it wasn’t just a bad dream?”

He held up his bloody hand. “When was the last time a dream made you bleed, kid?”

Footsteps pounded outside, and a second later, Chuck burst in. “What the fuck did you do to my boy?”

“I-I’m fine, Dad,” Joel managed, still choking on the residual spray. “Sawyer just… he didn’t know what he had in his hand. It was an accident.”

Sawyer clenched his jaw and pulled off his T-shirt to press it to his bleeding neck. The kid was making him sound crazy. Or, worse, incompetent. Still, he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t trust Chuck. Hell, for all he knew, the bastard had been the one to attack him.

Sawyer felt Chuck’s glower, and, for a moment, he seemed like he was going to say something, but instead, his footsteps moved around Sawyer and went to Joel.

“Jesus Christ,” Chuck muttered. “Your eyes. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I’m fine,” Joel repeated, still coughing a little. “I told you it was an accident.”

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