Page 72 of Bull Rush

When I get to the door, I hear the sound of something rustling around inside, furniture shifting and scrapes across the floor.

“It’s probably just an animal,” I say in a low whisper. The place wasn’t exactly as airtight as it should be, and it wouldn’t be unheard of. His frown gets heavier, and he shakes his head, pointing for me to listen. Then I hear it—the low sound of a man’s voice talking to someone on the other side of the building.

I rack my brain for who it could be. Kell and Elliot are both in the bunkhouse; I already saw them duck in for the night after talking about going into town for a drink later. None of the guests from the inn would have wandered out this far, that I know of, and none of the boarders renting space would be here this late, even if they got confused about the barns.

My frown matches Bo’s now as we listen to try to hear what they’re saying.

“Look over there,” I hear him say.

“Can’t see shit without a light,” another guy answers louder, and he’s much closer to where we’re standing.

“Shut the fuck up,” the other hisses.

All the hairs stand up on the back of my neck, and I flex my fists as Bo and I exchange looks of understanding. He nods for me to take one side of the door, and he takes the other. We do a silent count, and then he moves in before me. We walk slowly around the edges of the room, and I make my way to the left,looking for the barn gun I saw in here the other day and praying it’s still loaded if I need it.

I watch Bo disappear behind a large, old bookshelf, and I crouch when I hear the guys talk again. He wasn’t kidding about not being able to see. Without the overhead lights on, it’s damn near impossible. The only ambient light is coming from the far door, where the earliest rays of moonlight are barely creeping in to illuminate the space.

When I step forward to get a better look around the room, I hear the scurry of a mouse under my feet. The skittering attracts their attention, and I see one of their shadows freeze.

“The fuck was that?” Number Two whispers again.

“Probably a bird or a mouse. It’s a barn,” Number One growls low, still annoyed that his partner won’t shut up.

There’s the sound of footsteps again, moving in my direction, and I reach my hand up on the desk, feeling around for the gun. It rustles the heavy furniture cover that’s draped over it, and I hold my breath, waiting to hear if they heard it, and letting out a sigh of relief when I hear them continue to talk.

I feel around one more time, and finally, my palm collides with the buttstock. I wrap my hand around it—and thankfully, just in time.

“Hey, asshole!” I hear Bo call out, and a second later, there’s a loud smack and a groan followed by the sound of a body collapsing against the floor.

“What the fuck? Shane?” Number One calls out for Number Two, and there’s only another muted groan in response. “Who’s there?” he calls out, the anxiety reverberating through his words. They didn’t anticipate being found.

Number One steps out of his corner, and he’s illuminated by the door. I can see his silhouette aiming his gun wildly, trying to find the source of the noise.

“Put the gun down,” I call. Grabbing the gun off the desk and aiming it in his direction.

“Fat fucking chance of that, you prick,” Number One returns. “Go fuck yourself.”

“You first.” I hear another sound, like a blunt instrument against flesh, and this time, I hear the distinct sound of metal clattering across the concrete floor. I see Bo’s silhouette next to the other man, and the gun is missing from his hand.

They both drop to the floor a moment later, scattering to find it in the darkness and tussling with one another in the process. I pull myself out of my hiding spot and run over, hitting the guy on the back of the head and forcing him back to his knees.

“Let it go, or you’ll get one in your head.” I’m desperately hoping I can make good on that promise.

“What are you doing here?” Bo asks the guy, grabbing him by his collar.

“I’m not telling you shit.” He spits on the ground and shoves back at Bo. It elicits another smack on the back of his head from me, which he meets with disdain. Something about his voice hits me as familiar, and I’m racking my brain as I hit him again with the buttstock of the gun.

“You’ll fucking do what he—” Before I can finish my sentence, I feel the searing heat of pain across my cheek and face. It’s like being hit with a tackle with no helmet. So painful that I drop to my knees.

Bo turns to me, trying to make out what happened to me in the dark. The guy he’s holding hostage takes advantage of his distraction and shoves him so hard he falls back against the bookshelf. I grip the gun tightly. It’s the one thing I can’t afford to let go of as I try to clear the pain and my mind to refocus my attention back on the situation.

“The door. Let’s go!” the second guy yells to the first,grabbing his shoulder and shoving him forward as he looks between us, before he turns to run. They race for the door, but they’re slowed by the maze of furniture and tripping hazards that are in here in the dark. One of them hits his knee and screams out in pain as he tries to run on it.

“Ramsey?” Bo calls to me to make sure I’m okay.

“I’m fine. I’m coming. Go!” I yell to him to get a head start, and he takes off after the intruders. I climb back to my feet, setting the gun down, and rub the side of my cheek; it feels tender where he hit me, but I don’t feel any blood. I roll my shoulders as I step over the furniture, and then I take off after Bo as soon as my feet are under me again.

The light out in the field is only slightly better, illuminating the silhouettes of the guys as they race across it. Bo is on their heels, but he’s not in the same shape he was when we were kids playing ball, and while he can more than pace them, it’s not enough to catch them. I reach him, but the guys are over the far fence where they’ve left a car, and they tear off in it across the field.

---