Page 85 of The Last Stars in the Sky
I hear the angry roar of one of our attackers as it echoes over the lake, close enough that I turn. A man is standing on the deck. They must have come closer than I’d realized. He has a bushy beard and wild eyes, and he could be anyone—the guys in Corville, or the ones who followed us on the truck to Eagle Rapids, or someone else entirely. He takes aim with his rifle, and Kerry looks back, a wild look of terror on her face as she suddenly hurls herself in front of Mattie.
The next moment feels like it happens in slow motion, and yet it’s over in an instant. One second Kerry is there, her arms outstretched in front of Mattie, a look of fierce determination on her face, and the next she’s crumpled on the ground, blood soaking her T-shirt.
“Kerry!” Mattie screams, and I lurch toward them, tripping on the steps, falling hard enough to knock the breath out of me. Gasping, I crawl toward Kerry.
“Get to the lake,” I shout at Mattie. “Go!”
A sob escapes my daughter, but she obeys, her arms over her head, ducking low as she makes for the cover of the brush by the water. A volley of gunshot erupts from the deck, as she dives into the brush. I kneel in front of Kerry; she’s still alive, but only just.
“What a way to go, huh?” she rasps, blood bubbling from her lips as she manages a smile. “Well, it could have been worse.”
A broken laugh escapes me. “Kerry—”
“Get out of here, Alex,” she insists with the last of her breath. “They can’t do anything to me now. They won’t take the cottage.Go.”
I know she’s right, and yet I can’t bear it. I hold her hands in mine and squeeze them once. “Thank you,” I whisper, and she smiles faintly, the life spark already flickering out in her eyes.
The man on the deck takes aim as I crawl down the steps and then dodge and weave the gunfire across the beach before I throw myself into the brush, brambles tearing at my hands andface as I make my way down to the water. The staccato sound of gunfire echoes in my ears. Mattie is ahead of me, half crawling, half stumbling, toward the woods. I glance behind me once and see that the cottage has erupted into flames that lick orange into the sky. My mother’s funeral pyre.
I keep going.
It’s about a hundred feet to the edge of the brush, but it feels like forever, crawling on my hands and knees. Blood drips from my arm, and I know I’ve been shot, but only a flesh wound. Still, it hurts, more now that I’ve acknowledged it, and yet it’s nothing compared to the grief I feel poised to crash over me, as soon as I let it. Kerry,dead…I know I can’t think about that now. There will be time later. Too much time, perhaps.
As I get closer to the woods, I realize Daniel and Sam are shooting back, offering us covering fire, their faces fierce in focus, grim with determination. Kyle is there, too, I see with relief, shooting alongside them. When Mattie gets to the edge, Ruby, who has been holding Phoebe, pulls her across and they collapse on the ground, clutching each other, rocking back and forth. A few seconds later, I follow. Ruby takes my hand, and I pull her into my arms, pressing my face against her hair.
“Kerry?” Daniel asks, and, still holding Ruby, I shake my head.
“She saved my life,” Mattie whispers, as Phoebe clambers into her arms. She holds the little girl tightly.
Daniel nods, grimly accepting, unsurprised. “Let’s go,” he says, and, with a few parting shots, he, Sam, and Kyle holster their rifles and we head through the woods, to the cars.
It’s only a matter of seconds to sweep the brush from the car, clamber in. Daniel drives the SUV he arrived in, with Sam and Kyle. I take Justine’s car, with Mattie, Ruby, and Phoebe, ignoring the pain firing up my arm. We bump over the old, overgrown road without any of us speaking, the only sound theragged draw and tear of our breathing. We’re half a mile, no more, from the cottage, and our only hope is that they don’t realize we have a means of transportation—or that they don’t care because they want what is left of the cottage and what we had built there.
As we reach the first curve, I twist around to see the horizon a livid orange from the fire, smoke billowing toward the sky. Then I turn back, step on the accelerator, and keep going. No one speaks as we drive along the abandoned road, branches and bushes swiping the windows, the dirt pitted with rocks and ruts that make us jolt and lurch every few seconds. Kerry had said the road came out somewhere near Foymount, around fifteen miles away.
After the first mile and then the next, we start to breathe easier. When we’ve driven for half an hour, deep into the woods, Daniel pulls over in front of me and I follow.
“Kyle needs his shoulder seen to,” he explains. “He was shot, running across the beach. I think we’re far enough away now to stop.” He glances at me, noticing the dried blood up and down my arm for the first time.
“You’re hurt—”
“It’s nothing.”
As Daniel tends to Kyle, I walk over to a mossy, fallen log and sit down. The woods are completely still, just like they were when we first came in November, but after a few seconds I start to hear other sounds—the chatter and chirp of birdsong, the hum and whine of insects and bees. The rustle of the wind in the grass and the trees.
Mattie comes to sit next to me, and Ruby trails along, holding Phoebe’s hand. Phoebe’s eyes are wide and watchful; does she know her mother is dead? She is my responsibility now, along with my own children. I can barely take it in, along with everything else.
We all sit in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the ones of nature around us, the twitter and rustle and chirp, a peacefulness about the whole scene that feels utterly at odds with what I’m feeling.
“Kerry,” Mattie finally whispers. It’s all she can manage.
I put my good arm around her and draw her close. Already I miss Kerry with a fierce ache, like a missing limb, sawn off, hacked away.She gave her life for my daughter. I hope she knew how much I appreciated her.Lovedher. I hope, because I never told her. Not in words, and now I never can.
With Kyle’s arm bandaged, Daniel walks toward us, Sam behind.
“I don’t think anyone is following us,” he says. “I can’t hear any engines.” We all listen; it remains still. We’re safe…for now.
But Justine, andKerry…
