“Run!” I screamed at Penn. “Run!”
His eyes flicked over to where Penn was still running. Emptying the tank, he threw it in the back of the truck bed. Junior pulled out a lighter from his pocket, flipping the lid.
It was like slow motion.
Like I was underwater, and I couldn’t move fast enough.
Everything was magnified, yet the air sparked and flexed with heat waves, blurring my vision.
He tossed the lighter to the ground and took off after Penn.
39
reed
Wayne huffed frustrated breaths against the ground, kicking up little puffs of dust. It was so fucking dry, I thought I could smell smoke.
“Tell me!” I yelled into his ear, pushing him harder into the dirt, wishing I could push and push until the earth swallowed him whole, burying him beneath.
He gurgled a word beneath the force of my hand against his jaw. I racked the slide, chambering the round, punctuating just how serious I was this time.
His lips moved, trying to form words. I eased up enough for him to get some sound out. “Your daughter,” he managed to say.
My stomach dropped, and cold, clammy fear washed over me. “What about my daughter?”
The scent of smoke permeated the air, and I thought I could hear the crack and popping of wood as it was consumed with fire. I sniffed, lifting my head, looking around me. A tree about a hundred yards from me was burning, smoke building and billowing behind it.
From the direction of the ranch!
“Fuck!”
I sprang to my feet.
Wayne sputtered and coughed, rolling onto his back. The side of his face was all scraped up from the rocks and dirt. “It smells like you’re too late,” Wayne said, chuckling through his coughs.
The fire was building and growing, inching closer as if a clock were ticking down.
I glared at Wayne, aiming the gun at him. “Where’s my daughter?”
His dirt and tobacco-stained teeth flashed at me in a snarling grin. “Where do you think?”
My hand gripped the Glock, my finger squeezing the trigger as I aimed for his thigh. The gun was heavy in my grasp as I steadied my hand, then fired.
It took him a moment, but then he gripped his leg in shock. “You shot me!”
“Where’s Penn and Lina?” I repeated, clearing the chamber.
Wayne’s eyes narrowed on me in defiance.
I knelt down beside him, and he looked at me suspiciously. Digging the barrel of the gun into his now bleeding leg, he flinched, then cried out when I dug harder. “Fucking tell me!” I roared.
He cocked his head toward the fire that was quickly consuming the forest around us. I looked toward the flames, but all I saw was smoke. I could feel the blistering heat now.
I stood, turning my back on Wayne where he lay, still holding his thigh.
“Let’s see how you get out of this one,” I said, racking another round and aiming for his foot. The shot rang off the bluffs, and he howled in pain. “I hope you fucking burn.” I turned away from him.
And ran toward the fire.
