Page 133 of His to Burn
“Wrong answer,” the man said, prodding my back with his gun again.
I barely heard him, let alone focused on what he was saying. I was still trying to figure out where he’d hit me. Before I could, I heard another voice. “Spotted them.”
Another blow struck—the right side of my face, maybe?—and my ears rang louder.
The edges of my vision started to blur, and I worried I would black out.
I forced myself to stay conscious, but was unsteady on my feet as we moved through the woods. I didn’t want to fall, but stumbled and reached out to brace myself just before my face made contact with the ground.
“Get up!” The older man punctuated his words with a kick to my side.
Even though my head was swimming, my breaths sharp with the pain, I managed to pull myself to my feet. I’d only gone about two hundred yards away from camp, but the trek back felt like miles.
“We hit the jackpot, fellas,” the first man said.
I listened, hearing others, though I couldn’t say how many.
“Hello,” the first man said.
I looked up, seeing the shock on Lourdes’s face, but realized I didn’t see Bridget or Caitlin. I also realized that my eye was swelling, which impeded my vision.
“Asia!” Bridget yelled.
“Hold on a second there, Grandma,” one of the men said.
Caitlin stepped up and looked completely calm. I felt a moment’s hope, knowing Caitlin could talk almost anyone into anything. I prayed she’d use that skill to my benefit.
“What do you want?” Caitlin said.
“How about a trade, sweetheart?” the first man said.
“What kind of trade?” Caitlin responded.
“I let your friend here go and you give us all your stuff,” the man said.
“That’s not my friend,” Caitlin said.
“Caitlin!” Lourdes hissed.
Bridget just breathed an audible breath.
“Well, I don’t, and if?—”
Caitlin’s words were cut off by a blood-curdling scream.
We whirled around, and through my good eye, I saw Jack driving a knife into one of the men’s back.
He collapsed, his arms and legs twitching unnaturally.
The man next to him dropped his gun and raised his hands. He didn’t have a chance to do anything else before Jack buried thesame knife in his chest. There was a sickening squelch as he pulled it out, and as he ran toward us, I broke the other man’s gaze and stumbled, this time not able to catch myself.
I landed with a hard thud in the leaves and listened to the sound of grunting. I twisted, even though the world spun, and looked up.
Saw Jack’s hands around the man’s neck.
He squeezed, his grip getting tighter and tighter until the man’s breath was completely constricted. I saw the consciousness in his eyes start to fade, then heard a dull snap as Jack broke the man’s neck.
Then he dropped to his knees beside me, his still-bloody hands skimming over my shoulders, my arms, the side of my face.
