Page 108 of Turn That River Red

Still, there’s nothing I can do but wait. I shift in the dirt, trying to keep my legs from falling asleep. The insects scream and chitter. Birds caw out overhead, although I can’t see them. I have no sense of what time it is. Reverend Gunner is supposed to come to the coordinates at 7 AM—Ambrose wanted to do this during the day.So they can see what happens to them, he said in that cold, gravelly voice.

He told me that we’re so far from civilization, so far even from the church, that we don’t have to hide under cover of darkness and he can unleash his horror in the sunlight.

The wind picks up, cooling my sweat-damp skin. And eventually, I hear something: the faint rumble of a car engine. It’s time to play my part.

So I suck down a deep breath of air and scream as loud as I can.

“Help me!” I shriek, kicking at the dirt to stir it up. “Help me, please! Anyone!”

A dust cloud appears on the horizon. The sound of the engine grows louder. I scream wordlessly.

The front grill of Reverend Gunner’s Escalade materializes through the dust, and I gulp down air. I don’t have to fake my fear. I just have to fake who I’m afraid of.

“Sterling!” I scream as the SUV slams to a stop. The passenger door swings open, and Reverend Gunner spills out, clutching a battered old briefcase. My heart seizes—is Pastor Sullivan driving? Or did they bring someone else out here with them? I don’t want anyone innocent to die.

“Mercy?” Revered Gunner calls out, voice uncertain.

“Help me!” I scream, a beat too late—now that I can see him, some primeval part of me recoils at the thought of callingout to him.Ambrose has sights on me, I tell himself. Although I suspect, by now, he has sights on Reverend Gunner.

The driver-side door opens, and Pastor Sullivan steps out. My skin crawls at the sight of him, although I feel some measure of relief, too. They seem to be alone.

“Is that her?” he asks, squinting at me.

“Of course it’s her!” Reverend Gunner stalks around to the front of the SUV, swiveling his neck around. “Where is he?” he barks. “Where’s Echeverría?”

“He said he’d be right back!” I wriggle my wrists against the rope, my heart pounding furiously. Ambrose said he wanted me to escape as soon as he fired his first shot. But if Reverend Gunner or Pastor Sullivan try to untie me, they’ll immediately know that something is wrong.

“Right back?” Pastor Sullivan frowns and reaches for the pistol he always wears on his hip. “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know!” I scream, tears in my eyes. Why hasn’t Ambrose done anything? “Please! Help me!”

Pastor Sullivan looks over at Reverend Gunner, who gives him a short nod of permission. I glance off to the left, but of course I see nothing but desert grass and dust glinting on the wind.

“I don’t like this.” Pastor Sullivan walks toward me, his steps slow and cautious. “Why did he tell us to come alone?”

“Dammit, Henry, just help the girl.” Reverend Gunner keeps scanning the horizon, too. “Maybe we can get out of her before?—”

Sullivan’s right leg turns to pink mist a split second before the sound of a rifle report shatters through the sunlight. He topples forward into the dirt, howling in pain.

And this time, when I scream, it’s for real.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

AMBROSE

God damn this fucking wind. It’s blowing in from the east, and I haven’t fired a long-range rifle in nearly two years. The last thing I want is to miscalculate and hit Mercy instead.

Fortunately, I get Sullivan in the leg.

I immediately jerk my sight over to Gunner, who snatches up the briefcase and dives into the car. Selfish fucker. I know Sullivan is still alive—even at this distance, I can hear his heartbeat. Hear Gunner’s, too. And Mercy’s, of course, although I can’t risk taking eyes off Gunner to make sure she’s gotten her hands free like we talked about. Her heart’s been racing since Gunner pulled up in that slick Escalade.

The Escalade that’s still sitting in the dirt. Sullivan must have the keys, and Gunner’s too much of a coward to dig them out.

I shoot twice: once through the tire and another into the engine. Then I fire a third shot through the driver’s side window. Gunner’s smart enough to keep his head down, I’ll give him that, but hopefully, the shattered glass will do some damage. Can’t smell it over Sullivan’s blood, though.

I need to get over there. Not just to finish it up for Mercy but because?—

Well, Iwantto. Haven’t had a proper hunt in ages.

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