Then I hear voices, and they’re the last thing I want to hear.
“I’m sure I saw someone up this way. Keep your eyes peeled.”
“Isn’t that whorehouse coming up soon? We could use another bitch to entertain us.”
A shuddering has started inside, but I fight to keep it from shaking my body. I have no idea how Pete knew what kind of people these were, but his instinct to hide was exactly right.
“Check to the right there. I’m sure there was something.”
I feel Pete’s body tense up beside me.
“There they are. On the ground there, tryin’ to hide.”
“Run, Jill,” Pete bites out. “Away from the road. Fast as you can. Right now.” He pulls his pistol out of his holster.
If my own fear wasn’t guiding me, his icy, cold voice would have done so. I scramble to my feet and run away from the road as fast as I can in the soggy ground.
I used to run track. My legs are long, and my body moves that way naturally. But no one can run quickly in conditions like this.
At least not quickly enough.
There are gunshots. Pete is shooting, trying to give me cover.
Giving me a chance to get away.
But there’s a different sort of engine at the forefront of the sound behind me now. A quick look behind shows me what it is.
An ATV. Throwing up mud and water as it zooms after me.
There’s no way I can outrun it. No one could. The guy on it reaches me, jumps off, tackles me to the wet ground.
Then he has me.
The shooting has stopped.
And Pete… Well, Pete is probably dead.
9
The next stretchof time passes in a blur. A dark, wet, horrifying blur.
I fight back. Of course I do. I kick out at the guy who grabbed me and make jabbing motions toward his face, hoping to get his eyes.
I’m not sure what part of his body I hurt, but he howls and clobbers me hard. After that, I can’t do much of anything.
But at least the details of it don’t fully penetrate my brain.
I’m convinced—absolutely positive—that I’m going to be gang-raped right there on the side of the road. Right next to Pete’s dead body.
It’s a miracle I’m not.
But one of the guys, one who sounds like he might be a leader, says there are too many people hereabouts, and it’s not safe to hang around right here any longer. Besides, he wants to get me somewhere safe and dry to get me cleaned up so they can see what they’re dealing with.
The other guys grumble but don’t argue. My feet and hands are tied with ropes, and I’m bundled into the back of one of thepickups, surrounded by three gross-looking guys—all armed and staring at me like I’m a piece of meat.
I curl into a ball, trying to make myself as small as possible.
And I start to mentally prepare for what’s about to happen.
