Page 19 of The Last Sanctuary
Moving with that eerie, languid ease, he sauntered to the edge of the sidewalk and dropped his pistol through the grate. A splash echoed as the gun hit the water below.
Hands raised, he backed up. When he reached the stop sign, he halted and grinned at her. “You gonna run now?”
Fumbling frantically, she jerked the Camry’s driver door open. She hurled herself into her seat, keeping the gun up and awkwardly aimed in the biker’s direction as she punched the start engine button and slammed into reverse.
As she peeled out of the parking lot, the Camry careening onto two wheels, she risked a glance at Dekker. He was bent over, reaching for something tucked into his right boot. Another gun.
She hit the gas and roared into the street, mashing the gas pedal, spinning the steering wheel hard to the right. A loud bang exploded behind her. A dull ping. The vehicle shuddered.
Dekker must have fired at her. The round hit something, she didn’t know what. The car still drove, that’s all that mattered.
Raven kept driving as fast as she could without crashing. The dial roared past 70, 80, then 90 miles an hour. She gripped the steering wheel so hard her fingers went numb. Her heart raced. Her breath felt torn from her lungs. She didn’t slow, didn’t pause for anything, and didn’t dare look back.
Once she reached the edge of town, she checked the rearview mirror, expecting one of those awful motorcycles to pull up behind her at any moment. The road was empty.
Instead of driving straight back to the wildlife sanctuary, she took side roads, weaving around abandoned cars and giant tree limbs felled from the last storm. She didn’t want to lead them straight to her hiding place, to the animals, or to her sick father.
Minutes passed. Nothing appeared behind her. Dekker hadn’t followed her. The other bikers hadn’t noticed her departure.
Maybe, just maybe, she’d escaped unscathed.
Her breathing slowed. Her racing heart steadied. She glanced down at the bag of painkillers bulging from her cargo pocket. She’d succeeded. She got what she came for.
As she crossed the bridge headed for the zoo, she couldn’t stop shivering.
The bikers were right.
The world had gone to hell.
She could only hope that hell hadn’t followed her home.
Chapter Eight
By the time Raven returned to Haven, the Camry’s electric battery was completely drained. She drove through the back entrance, passing the bonobos, otters, and Leo the leopard, who was lounging on his favorite tree branch in the shade, and parked in the garage behind the lodge.
Upon examining the exterior, she discovered a tiny hole punched into the trunk just above the keyhole. The round hadn’t hit anything too critical. She’d gotten lucky—this time.
She almost plugged the vehicle into the charger, then hesitated. The electrified fences in the park had automatic backup generators that would last a few more weeks. She didn’t want to turn on the one for the lodge where she and her father lived, not unless she had to. If the power was out for months, maybe longer, the generators were all she had.
She brought the tranq gun into the house, locked the front door, and set the weapon on the coffee table. She didn’t want it in his room or anywhere near where he might reach it.
The pills would help. The pills would take away his pain.
Raven entered the doorway to her father’s bedroom. Like him, it was spartan—a lumpy mattress, a scarred desk, anightstand, the orange armchair, and the log walls bare of pictures or sentimentality.
She held the bottle of painkillers in one hand, low near her thigh. “Dad?”
He didn’t answer.
Heavy shadows drifted across the room. Dusk stained the windows. The dense air stank of sour sweat and sickness. Her stomach roiled. She slipped an N95 mask over her mouth and nose and went to his bedside, flipping on the solar lamp.
His chest rose and fell in jerky, uneven movements. Rasping breaths tore from his chest. He moaned and writhed, tangling the rumpled bedding. The sheets beneath him were damp.
A drop of blood rimmed his outer ear. Another dot of crimson stained the hollow beneath his right eye.
Hemorrhaging from multiple orifices…
This was it, then. The last stage before the end. Before death.
