Touch Page 15

  “The device component too? And the evidence linking us?” he also said. “And you counted it? It’s all there?” I couldn’t breathe. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Marco tightened his grip on the bottle, and I stood close by him, as it appeared that Sean was listening to whatever Dale was saying over the phone. “Right… yep… Got it. Okay. Sounds like a plan,” he said, and I assumed he ended the call, as Brent said, “Everything’s in order?”

  Sean chuckled. The hairs on my arm stood on end, poking out of goose bumps like soldiers at the ready, as though they knew what was coming next. “I’m going to meet Dale. I’ll pick you up after,” Sean said. “Get rid of the kids. We don’t need them anymore.”

  My wide eyes met Marco’s in one quick, knowing glance of fear.

  I sucked in a deep breath, and Marco held his bottle up at the ready.

  The front door slammed, and then I heard footsteps on the other side of the basement door.

  Chapter 20

  The door unlocked. It opened. Brent’s bald head became visible as he stepped down onto the first step. “Where are—”

  Whack!

  Marco hit Brent’s head with the bottle, making him lose his balance as he slipped on the oil. He grabbed Marco as he fell, stumbling down a couple of steps. I grabbed Marco, losing my balance with the weight and momentum of the two men and falling to my knees. I let go. Marco threw another blow as they struggled together, dislodging Brent, who fell backward and landed against the handrail at the bottom of the stairs. A pained yelp flew from his mouth. He lay on the floor, his leg bent weirdly, grasping at it with his hands. “You’ve broken my leg!” he cried out. I was surprised he hadn’t passed out from being hit on the head.

  “Quick, we have to go!” Marco grasped my hand, helping me up to a standing position, and we burst through the basement door.

  My eyes darted to the table Marco had mentioned.

  Gun.

  I grabbed it as Marco flung open the front door. I saw Sean out the corner of my eye as he approached his car in the dirt driveway; he turned around just in time to see us.

  I held the gun up as I stepped outside, pointing it at Sean, my arm shaking.

  He was reaching for the car door. A quick glance told me his pistol was on top of the dashboard.

  “Don’t move,” I yelled, Marco right beside me.

  I wished we had taken Brent’s gun too, but there hadn’t been time, and it would have been too risky.

  Sean held up his hands. “Calm down, calm down,” he said. Then he chuckled. “You don’t know how to use that thing. Why don’t you just put it down, and we can talk more about what happened to your father?”

  He was right. Did I just have to pull the trigger? Was there something I had to do to prepare it first? Even if there wasn’t, I couldn’t just shoot the man, could I?

  Marco reached carefully toward the gun.

  “No!” I said, stiffening my grip, unable to surrender this feeling of power over the man who had taken my father’s life.

  “Let me just…” He nudged something metal at the back of it, releasing some kind of safety switch. “Now it’s ready.”

  Sean’s face hardened, and he tried to step closer to his car.

  “Stop!” I yelled. “I said don’t move!”

  I stepped forward carefully, Marco my shadow as we walked in an arc around him and the car, trying to get farther away.

  “You’re not going to shoot,” he said.

  The thought of us running away and him driving after us terrified me. I pointed the gun at one of the tires and fired. I missed, the bullet ricocheting off the dusty ground. The force of the shot moved the gun backwards, and my elbows bent, almost hitting me in the face as I stumbled backward. I regained focus and fired again; this time, the tire deflated.

  “What are you doing?” Sean yelled.

  Marco looked shocked.

  And then I realized what a stupid mistake I’d made. Our one chance for a speedy getaway, and I’d blown it. I’d been so intent on stopping Sean from driving, I didn’t even think that I could have forced him to hand over the keys and let us go. Unless I also forced him to change the tire, which was probably a stupider idea.

  I decided to practice my aim and technique, since the car was no longer an option anyway. I pointed at another tire, and, preparing for the recoil, stood strong and fired.

  “Holy Jesus, girl!” Sean’s arms flew up in the air, covering his head.

  “Get away from the car!” I yelled, knowing that if he got to the dash and grabbed his gun, it’d be all over. I’d be no match for him.

  He stepped to the side. “Okay, okay, see? Don’t do anything stupid.”

  Brent gave a muffled cry from the basement. “My leg!”

  Sean flashed a brief glance sideways. He stepped away from the car some more. “Just put the gun down. Let’s work out a solution.”

  I shook my head rapidly.

  He stepped sideways again, and then I realized he was trying to get closer to the cabin. He could take cover inside, or he could go and get Brent’s gun.

  “Talia!” Marco urged. “Let’s go. Shoot him in the leg first!”

  Sean’s eyes opened wide.

  I froze. I couldn’t. I couldn’t just shoot a person, even though he was evil.

  “Talia! Now!”

  Sean held his hands up higher. “I’ll let you get away, no need to shoot. C’mon, lower the weapon. Wanna know what your dad’s last words were?”

  “Don’t listen to him! You have to do it, now!” Marco placed a hand on my lower back. “Give it to me, I’ll do it.”

  “No!” I was torn. I needed to maintain my control over this man, but I wasn’t ready to shoot. I didn’t know how to move past that.

  “Talia, if you don’t shoot him, he’ll eventually shoot us. Don’t put your family through that.”

  My family. My family had no idea where I was, or what was happening right now. It was like Dad’s disappearance all over again.

  I pulled the trigger.

  My body struggled to maintain balance.

  Sean moved sideways.

  Damn it!

  I fired again, and again, my shots missing. Sean ran toward the cabin door. I fired at the back of his leg, but it hit the doorjamb. And in a flash he was inside, the door closed, and my chance was gone.

  In a few moments he’d have Brent’s gun. I knew he wouldn’t hang around to help his associate. He’d come after us.

  I exchanged a terrified glance with Marco in one split second of realization.

  “Run!” he said, and I ran, backward at first, the gun still aimed toward the door, then I turned so I could run faster.

  Marco took the gun and ushered me urgently in front of him. “Don’t stop, keep running,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you!”

  We ran down the hill of the driveway, heading toward the side where there were trees so we could take some sort of cover. Marco turned quickly to check behind us, then shouted, “Go, go!”

  I slipped a little as the ground became bumpy with rocks and sticks and leaves, and we wove between trees as the forest thickened the farther we got into it.

  “Keep close to the trees, but keep your eye on the driving track. If we can get to a road we might be able to flag down a car!” Marco shouted instructions, since I dared not look back.

  It was the middle of the night—at least I thought it was. The roads out here would be mostly deserted. But we had to keep running.

  I kept bumping into the sides of trees, pushing past branches as they flicked against my face. The dark air was lit only by the moonlight filtering through the trees.

  A gunshot rang out.

  “Agh!” I called out instinctively, with no idea where the shot had landed. I turned briefly and saw movement somewhere behind us. “Oh God, oh God! He’s going to get us, Marco!”

  Then another gunshot, this time from Marco. “Keep going! Don’t stop!”

  We came to a steeper incline next to a rocky ledge.
We slowed, surveying the area for where we should go next.

  “Down here.” Marco gestured to one side, and we crouched down, half crawling and half sliding down the embankment. When we reached the bottom, so did another shot, landing near our feet and sending dirt and leaves flying upward. A bird or some other creature cried out in the distance.

  I glanced up at Sean’s silhouette, the moonlight lighting him from behind. He looked like a monster, towering over us.

  Marco fired.

  Sean fired.

  I ran, stumbling over everything, my legs weak and wobbly.

  I turned to check on Marco just as another shot was fired from Sean’s gun, and Marco dropped to his knees.

  Oh no.

  Oh God oh God oh God! “Marco!”

  Marco grasped his left thigh, a moan escaping his mouth. He tried to raise his gun with a weakened arm, pointing it at Sean.

  Without thinking, I threw myself toward Marco, lunging for the weapon. I grabbed it and held it up toward Sean. I fired, and missed.

  Sean came closer. “Even though it’s dark, I can see the same fear in your face that I saw in your father, right before I killed him.”

  I fired again, but it only hit the rocky ledge under his feet.

  “Talia,” Marco panted. “Run.”

  “No!” I held the gun up high, one pistol facing off against the other, and two shots rang out. But the aim of one of them changed direction as the ground gave way. Sean wobbled, grabbing the ledge as he slid, but momentum pulled him down the embankment, his weapon falling from his hands. I fired again, but was met only with an empty click, then I heard a thump, a whack, as he landed heavily on the rocky ground below. His head moved drowsily from side to side.

  I fired again to confirm that I was out of bullets.

  I rushed toward Sean while he was incapacitated. Marco tried to lunge forward. “Don’t go near him,” he cried.

  “I need his gun!” I came closer, my eyes frantically searching for the fallen weapon. It was behind him. I could only get it by stepping over him.

  I approached, sticks cracking beneath my feet. He was still. Was he dead?

  I glanced back at Marco, desperate to help him, but desperate to get something to protect us too. Blood stained his thigh, his face scrunched up in pain.

  My eyes homed in on the gun, wishing I could reach out and grab it. I looked down at Sean. His chest rose and fell. But his eyes were closed. He was probably just concussed.

  I moved away from the top of his body, closer to his feet. My mind imagined his hands reaching up and grabbing me in a strong, unbreakable grip.

  Just get the gun, I told myself.

  I tentatively lifted one foot over his legs and down onto the ground. Then the other. I reached down and grabbed the weapon with a shaky hand. It was heavier than the other one, which I tucked into the back of my jeans. I leapt back over him, then, as I was about to rush to Marco’s aid, I paused. Sean’s head rolled slightly again. A subtle moan escaped his lips. He may not have a weapon now, but if, or when, he came to, he could still come after us, or call that Dale guy for help.

  I wanted to reach into his pockets to see if he had his phone, but when I leant down, his leg twitched and I gasped. Sean’s eyes opened slightly, then closed again.

  I had the gun. That was the priority.

  Marco needed help. That was the next priority.

  And getting out of here, getting help—I needed to focus on that.

  “Is he dead?” Marco panted.

  “Uh-uh.” I shook my head. As I stood over him, the fury I’d felt before swirled up again within me, and I pointed the gun at him. Here was one of the men responsible for all the trauma my family had experienced. And I had the power to get revenge. Payback. One squeeze of the trigger and it would be over. He wouldn’t be able to come after us.

  But here was also one of the men who knew what had happened to my father. Who could potentially, if the cops could get him, tell us where my dad’s body was hidden. If I killed him, I might also kill my chance of ever knowing the whole truth. Or I could shoot his leg to stop him coming after us, but what if I aimed wrong and hit an artery, and he bled out, or what if I didn’t shoot the right spot and he could still walk? I may have had a gift, and Marco may have had an even stronger gift, but this man, this animal, had been there. He’d seen it, done it; he knew everything.

  The need to know was just as strong as the need to survive.

  Because of this power, this ability to choose what I did next, my hands shook even more. I imagined my dad here with me, standing by me, radiating love from his heart of gold. I just couldn’t imagine him watching me shoot a man, even if I wouldn’t be aiming to kill. My legs throbbed, exhausted from running, but in a strange way that told me that if I did this, I too would feel something. I would share in Sean’s pain, through the sense of touch.

  I needed to focus on the priorities.

  I needed to get away as fast as possible.

  Sean was out of it, and though I sensed that he would eventually wake fully, I couldn’t see it happening just yet.

  An energy in the air seemed to draw me away from him, toward Marco and farther into the forest. I had to trust my instincts.

  I moved away from him and went to Marco. “He’s not going anywhere anytime soon,” I said.

  Marco tried to stand, but winced.

  “Here,” I said, ripping off my sleeve and then ripping it into a longer strip. I wrapped it tightly around his upper thigh, even though he grimaced. I ripped off the other sleeve and wrapped it directly over the wound.

  “I think it’s just a flesh wound,” he said. “It’s not bleeding that much. It just hurts like hell.” He maneuvered up to his elbows then, with my help, stood, though hunched over.

  “Can you walk?”

  He nodded. But as we attempted to resume our escape, each step made him groan with pain. “We just need to get to the road, wherever that is,” he managed.

  “Let’s just keep moving. I have his gun, so he has no weapon; even if he comes back, we’ve got the advantage.”

  We hobbled forward together, my arm around his back and under his armpit.

  I kept glancing back, but there was no movement, no sound, except for us.

  There was no way Brent would be able to come after us either; his leg had clearly broken. That left only Sean, if he awoke and was clear-headed and uninjured enough to follow us, and Dale, if he realized Sean was not coming or not answering his phone and decided to drive back to the cabin. If that was the case, we were screwed. Plus, it had sounded like he had picked up an accomplice on the way.

  My mind flitted between all the available information and all our options as we walked, my steps heavy as I took on some of Marco’s weight, his steps faltering each time he put weight on his left leg.

  What if we never found the road? What if we found the road but never found anyone to help us? What if we collapsed from dehydration and hunger and had no strength to get back up again?

  I shook my head as those fears tried to creep in. No. They weren’t allowed. I just had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

  Marco’s leg gave way on the next step, and I tumbled with him to the ground. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Here,” I said, getting an extra-strong hold of his body and helping him up.

  We walked a bit more. Then Marco winced in pain, his leg faltering again.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”

  But with the next step he tumbled to the ground again, taking me with him.

  “Marco.” I put my hands onto his leg. “It’s bleeding through a bit more.” I helped him tear off his own sleeve and wrapped another layer around the wound, though I was worried about him getting too cold, since the night air tickled our skin like ominous breath. I waited for him to regain his breath, then helped him up again. We managed a few more steps before he had to rest again.

  “It
’s okay. We can stop and start as often as you need. We’ve got time, I’m sure of it,” I said, glancing behind us.

  We resumed, but this time he could only go two more steps. “Talia,” he breathed, his voice heavy and weak. “I’m slowing us down.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “We can do this.” I grasped the sides of his face and looked into his eyes. “We have to keep going.”

  His dark eyes seemed gray, less vibrant and intense, under the moonlight. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the chewing gum. “Have some,” he said.

  “No, you need it more than me.”

  “Have it.” He shoved a piece into my mouth. “It’s not much, but should give you a bit of a boost.” He popped one in his mouth too.

  I went to help him up again, but he held his hand out. “I can’t,” he said.

  “Marco, we have no choice. We have to keep going. Even if we have to stop every second step.”

  “No.” He shook his head, then covered my hand with his. “You go.”

  “What? I’m not going without you!” A sudden sense of aloneness made me shiver, even though I was still with him.

  “You have to. Just go get help. You’ll get to the road much faster than if I come with you. I’ll just rest.” He glanced around. “If you can help me over there, I can take cover.” He pointed to a ledge with short bushy plants cascading around it.

  I shook my head vehemently. “Marco, that’s crazy. What if Sean gets back up and finds you? He didn’t seem to be injured except for a concussion or something. Or that other guy—if Sean can’t move, he might still be able to call him, then he could come and find you. Or me.”

  Marco’s usual positivity waned. All he said was, “I know.”

  “So let’s just keep trying.”

  He tugged on my hand and pulled me close. “Talia, just help me over there, while I can still walk a little.” His voice was breathy and weak.

  I helped him halfway up, his face taut with pain. I sort of dragged him over to the ledge, and at the same time he tried to use whatever strength he had left to help me move him. He leaned back against a rock under the ledge, and I helped him raise his injured leg up and rest it on another rock. I tightened the makeshift bandage over the wound. I had no idea if the bullet was still in there or if it had passed through, but I wasn’t about to check. If it was there, and I pulled it out, he could bleed more. I’d seen it on television shows and movies. And if it wasn’t there, I could do more damage by trying to look.