Page 51 of Not This Place

"Rachel," Ethan's voice was strained. "Backup's almost there."

"Nothing here," she muttered into the radio. "No traces, no IDs..."

Her voice trailed off as her gaze drifted to Leroy's lifeless form in the passenger seat.

She moved around the car to the passenger side and opened the door. The smell of blood and guts hit her like a punch, but she swallowed down the bile that rose to her throat. She had seen worse.

Leaning in, she began to check Leroy’s pockets —shirt, pants, jacket— methodically. It was a long shot, but it was all they had now.

Her fingers closed on something small and hard in his jacket pocket. She pulled out a tarnished rock from his pocket.

Just a stupid rock kicked up by the car and the crash.

She flung it at a cactus, striking the thing.

“Ethan,” she said. “There’s a third.” She held the radio tight. “A third gunman. He ran. He won’t have any car. On Barker’s property. If we can get to him…”

“Where are you? Oh, shit… Rachel, I see you. Dammit, what the hell happened?”

She spotted a car veer off from the procession of emergency vehicles, recklessly skipping over the rough terrain as it came straight at her.

Her clothes were stained, her hands slick with dirt and blood. She stumbled over to the still form of Mattie, prodding his body with her boot. His glazed eyes stared back at her, lifeless and vacant. A pulsating red stain spread across his chest, soaking through his shirt to pool around him.

The car speeding towards her veered off, a lanky, sandy-haired figure lurched from the seat.

Ethan’s eyes fixated on her, wide and panicked.

He sprinted, leaving the car in gear, but indifferent to the vehicle slowly idling forward.

"Ethan," she gasped out. "Ethan, I need you." Her voice was raw, layered with exhaustion and urgency. There was a beat of silence before Ethan reached her side, footsteps thudding against the ground.

"Rachel?" His tone was filled with alarm. "Rachel! What happened? Are you alright?"

She exhaled in relief. "Ethan," she repeated. "Leroy and Mattie... they're dead." The words tumbled from her lips like bricks, heavy and unyielding.

Ethan's voice returned softer, steadier. "Alright Rachel, we need to get you out of here.”

His hand wrapped around her shoulders.

"No," she interrupted, her voice reverberating through the emptiness around her. "No! The boss... they have a boss... we need to find him."

"Rachel," Ethan's voice held a certain firmness now, a desperate plea wrapped in authority. "You're injured.”

"I'm not!" she said, but she didn't push his hand away.

For a brief moment, Ethan was like a crutch. She leaned on him, recovering, allowing her breathing to regularize.

But she pushed off him, shaking her head. "There was a third gunman," she said. "He ran on foot. If we find him…"

Ethan shot a look towards the open trunk, wincing at the two bodies in the back.

“Barker,” she said softly. “His wife. I think.”

“And the thugs?”

“I didn’t do it. Well, not on purpose. Driver silenced the other before he could give up his boss’ name.”

She didn’t mention the fact that she’d been playing fast and loose with her duty to render aid. She thought she’d had time. Thought she was bluffing. The paramedics were already pulling up, even as they spoke.

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