Page 66 of All Saints Day
Louise looks up at me from her place crouched on the ground, her whole body coiled like a serpent readyto strike.
“What? You mean we're just going to—to leave him here?” she stammers.
“That's exactly what you're going to do!” Frank bites out before firing another round into a man lurking in the tall grass that I hadn't even seen.
Louise doesn't press, just takes stock of the rest of us before reaching a hand out to me.
“I know you've got plenty—I want a gun, Quentin.”
I'm almost embarrassed that I've thought of her as the damsel in distress—of the baby bird needing protection since we rescued her from the Country Estate. This is still Louise Penny we're talking about, after all, and though she may have had a rough go of things—she's still one of the best in the business.
I reach into the bag slung over my shoulder and press one of the cold, heavy pieces into her hand along with several full magazines.
With a devilish smile, she leans in and kisses my lips.
“Thanks, Q. I love you and I trust you, but some things a girl just has to do herself.” She winks at me, slamming the magazine home and flicking the safety off as she walks in a squat toward the edge of the window.
All of us are looking out of the remnants of the back sliding doors from the kitchen leading to the woods and the bank of the lake, the sound of the chopper still whirring overhead.
The thick forest could provide an opportunity to slip through unseen, if only we could get to the treeline.
“Caz, you're the lightest on your feet; you take point, I'll bring up the middle, and Seb—you and Dennis bring up the back with Louise. If we need to, you and I can scoop her up. We can carry her if the running becomes too much—we just need to keep moving. As soon as we're outside of the building, nothing else matters except getting to those trees.”
Frank grunts his assent, firing off round after round as he keeps our attackers at bay
while the five of us are getting ready to make a breakfor it.
Suddenly, there's the shattering of breaking glass and the low hissing of a gas canister as it empties an acrid yellow fog into the room.
“Cover your nose and mouth!” I manage to cry out as I tuck my face beneath the collar of my damp t-shirt. I stumble forward blindly in the thick fog—my body moving on instinct toward cool, fresh air.
I can hear the clamoring of feet, the clanging of metal, the scuffling of my mates moving in the surrounding chaos.
As soon as I'm outside, I see Caz’s buzzed blond head shining in the sunlight as the two of us sprint for the trees. I look back over my shoulder to ensure that the others are following close behind, but Seb is nowhere to be seen and Dennis is moving low and staggered through the high grass; a bloom of bright red blood peeking through the bandages on his left shoulder.
We need to keep moving. If we don't, there'll be no chance of making the treeline safely.
I don't see the others—though I can still see the long black shining barrel of Frank's rifle propped up on the kitchen windowpane as he continues to fire at oncoming Windmill agents.
The panic that wraps my chest threatens to crush me out of existence as I pass from the bright golden sunlight into the cool shade of the trees—Caz's footsteps crashing ahead of mine through the sticks and leaves. I reach out down the bond, trying to see where my other fated mates are. I am met with the horrifying vision of Seb moving on his belly through the grass, a stab wound in his side—his bullets spent and gun long abandoned—as he makes his way toward us in the trees.
Inside the house, Louise and Frank remain pinned in the kitchen—Louise having been pushed back from the pack after the commotion with the smoke bomb.
“We have to turn back!” Dennis screams as Caz and I continue to bomb through the tree boughs, and over logs, deeper into the forest.
I want to turn back, to rush the cabin—to hold Louise in myarms once again—but I know if we turn back now, all of us will be captured—wiped from the board. No one will be left on the outside to save Louise—or the rest of us for that matter.
I can feel Caz, the heavy sorrow of his understanding—of Seb's hateful but complete comprehension as I send the thought down the bond.
I feel the fire of rejection as Dennis threatens to come about—to turn back toward the cabin and his own certain doom.
It is Louise who makes him stay his course.
As clearly as if she were standing before me, before each of us, with her cinnamon eyes soft—her hands outstretched, pleading.
“You have to go. All of you. Get out there, gather your weapons and your strength to come save me. You've done it before, so you can do it again. I will wait for you. I will be strong. I love you.”
And just like that. She's gone.
