Page 81 of Wilderness Daddy

“Landon, what’s going on?” I ask. I need to hear his voice again. He helps me free and as I rise he moves the stretcher and checks on the woman.

“Just shut up!” the man, ‘Red,’ says as he starts toward me. I squeeze my eyes shut. He’s the one who was about to hit me when the Sasquatch saved me. My heart starts pounding, my head spinning.

Fingers grasp my face, take my chin roughly. I think of the woman on the stretcher and swallow the bile rising in my throat. She’s been beaten and God knows what else.

Squeezing my eyes tighter doesn’t help. I can smell the man’s breath, feel it on my face. My knees weaken along with my stomach, but I’m angry too. How dare he touch me, make me feel vulnerable and fearful. He has no right.

“Get your God-damned hands off her.” I barely recognize Landon’s voice. It’s gruff, cold, threatening in a way I’ve never heard. I shiver. I open my eyes as Landon grabs the man and yanks him away from me. A handgun is suddenly aimed at my abdomen.

“You want to watch your pretty bitch die an agonizing death?” Landon raises his hands.

“What do you want?” I ask, ignoring the tremble in my voice. “This woman has an infection. She needs medical attention. She’s going to die without it.” I straighten my stance. “You have no use for her. Let us get her help.”

“I don’t give a fuck. Nature will take care of her.” He looks me straight in the eye, but I know his words are meant to taunt Landon, the bigger threat. “We’ve got a nice little piece of Chinese ass now anyway.” He motions at me with his free arm, but turns to Landon, his filthy hand fisting at the last second and I know he’s going to take a swing.

I drop and grab a rock, noting his gun arm hangs loosely at his side. “I’m not Chinese, you hillbilly dick,” I shout and throw the rock at him. My aim is off and I hit him square between the shoulders. He spins back, rushing me, kicking me over with a big booted foot. I fly back, the wind knocked out of me, but otherwise okay since the backpack takes the worst of the fall. Landon growls and tackles the guy, sending them both toward me. The gun is shoved at me before Landon can do any damage.

I whimper. Landon freezes, raising his hands slowly in surrender. Red smiles victoriously.

“You may be a big man, but you’ve got a weakness for this one and that makes you a pipsqueak.” Red makes a jabbing motion with that gun at me.

“Biggest mistake a man out here can make. Caring for anyone beside number one.” When he moves the gun to tap his own chest, Landon lunges.

I untangled my arms from my backpack, watching the two men scuffle, praying Landon gets the gun out of Red’s hand before it goes off.

I grab my pack and dig to the bottom while they fight. I snag my extra bear spray and stuff it in my pocket and then find what I’m really after, a little utility knife that came with the kit.

The two men are rolling in the dirt and I open the knife. It’s only about three inches long, but it might do enough damage to slow Red down. It’s either the knife or I grab a log from the pile and smash it over Red’s head but both pose the same issue. Landon and Red are moving around too much and no matter what I do, stab or smash, I risk hitting Landon instead. The bear spray will get them both if I use it, so that’s out too.

Before I can make a decision, I feel cold metal press against the base of my neck. The cocking of the gun leaves no room for doubt. Red’s friends are here. A shot goes off and I squeal, dropping my knife. It’s not the gun pressed to my neck that went off thankfully, but it takes a precious few seconds of wondering, waiting for pain or the absence of everything, that doesn’t come, to know for sure.

Landon freezes, fist in midair. A hand replaces the gun and squeezes hard enough to bring me to my knees before shoving me forward. Face down in the dirt, I begin to tremble. I can’t say what’s going through my mind; fear and hopelessness have knocked all forms of higher thought away.

“Get the fuck up!” The new guy shoves me with his boot as he passes me, reaching to kick Landon off of Red. Landon looks at the guy’s leg. It’s within reach. But then his eyes find mine, flicker to the gun still aimed at my head, and back. He does nothing.

With the corners of Landon’s mouth turned down, his lips pressed, and his brow furrowed, his look is apologetic and filled with regret.

Swallowing hard, I give a small, hopefully reassuring smile and fly up onto my feet. I knock the gun, ducking and dodge to my right out of reach. Everything seems to happen in slow motion and fast forward all at once.

Landon’s eyes widen in surprise but he doesn’t waste the opportunity. He grabs the guy’s leg and yanks him off his feet. Red, already recovered from their tussle, lunges at Landon before the other guy hits the ground. I search for the closest weapon I can find, my eyes flitting past the knife in the dirt, favoring a rock, larger than the last one, but still small enough to hold firmly in my grasp.

I don’t throw it. This time I smash it off the guy’s head. It doesn’t knock him out like I hoped but he’s stunned long enough for Landon to get to his feet, elbow Red hard enough to send him to his knees, and take on the man I’ve just aggravated with the rock.

“Run!” Landon yells but I hesitate. I can’t leave him. “Go! Get help.”

Help, yes, we need help.

When I turn to obey, I’m blocked by a chest. It’s not big and solid like Landon’s but still knocks me back.

This guy is young. Younger than me by a few years and doesn’t look vicious and mangy like the others, but he grabs me and by the time he has me locked in his grasp, Landon’s lost his fight too. Two on one he seemed to handle, but not when Red found his gun again.

“Run, run, run as fast as you can.” Red says in a viciously mocking tone. The man I hit with the rock flies at me and yanks my head back by the hair. I scream at the sharp piercing pain in my scalp and when the kid lets me go, I’m tossed down in the dirt again.

I shake off the pain in my knees at the hard landing, anger coursing through me and scramble to the kid, wrapping my arms around his legs to trip him. He teeters and starts to fall but then there’s a loud shot and I release him to take cover.

I’m in a ball with my arms over my head, my ears ringing and my breath sticking, when the other older man yells, “Enough!” The shot hit just to the right of Landon’s head in the trunk of a deciduous tree. Wood splinters litter Landon’s hair, making me see how close he was to getting hit.

The kid steadies himself, but does nothing. Red growls, gives the kid a sharp look and cuffs him before coming at me. He grasps my shirt, yanks me up, and backhands me hard enough that I see stars.

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