“Calm down, Dylan. Owen’s here to help,” Ryder said, inching closer to his friend. “He’s here to take us home. Come on, let’s go.”
“He’s one of them.” Dylan glanced around, his eyes wide with fear, his body braced to attack. “Did you hear that? He told them where we are. They’re coming to get me. I have to get outta here.”
Whatever the kid had taken had kicked in heavy-duty paranoia and hallucinations. Worried his presence would escalate the situation, Owen tossed his keys to Ryder. “Try to get him to the truck.”
Ryder nodded and moved forward, while Owen faded into the shadows.
“I’ll get you somewhere safe.” Ryder waved the keys and pointed to Owen’s truck. “See, I’ve got a truck waiting. Let’s go.”
“They probably put a tracking device on it.”
Owen inched toward a grove of pine trees, careful to keep his moves slow to avoid drawing Dylan’s attention. Maybe if the kid couldn’t see him, he’d calm down enough for Ryder to coax him into the truck. If they failed, his options were to call the police or use force to get Dylan to go.
“The truck’s clean. I checked it out,” Ryder said. “You can check for yourself but put down the board first.”
“I’ll see for myself, but I’m keeping my sword.”
*
Carly stood hiddenamong the pine trees watching the scene unfold in front of her. What were Ryder and Owen thinking dealing with Dylan when he brandished a busted piece of fence like a sword? They should lock themselves in Owen’s truck and call the police. She’d give it another minute and she’d call the authorities.
If Dylan hit Owen in the head or knocked him down causing him to hit his head, he could suffer further brain trauma. He’d made such incredible progress, but an instant could erase it all.
“Give me the keys,” Dylan shouted as he raised the board.
“I’ll drive. That way you can keep a lookout,” Ryder countered.
Owen crept toward Dylan. “Stay right there!”
Forget it. She was done letting Owen put himself at risk to play hero. She dialed nine-one-one. When the dispatcher answered and asked about her emergency, Carly whispered, “I need officers sent to old highway fifty-one near the Griffith farm. There’s a teenager who’s either drunk or taken drugs. He’s paranoid and aggressive. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt someone.”
“You’ll have to speak up, ma’am. I can’t hear you.”
She repeated her request a little louder.
Dylan moved toward her hiding place, stopped, and then whirled to face Owen and Ryder. “Did you hear that? Someone’s out there.”
“I didn’t hear anything, did you, Owen?”
“No. Come back, Dylan. Let’s get outta here,” Owen said, as he walked toward the teen.
“You know who’s out there, and that they’re here to get me. You’re in this together.” Dylan raised the board again and advanced on Owen.
Carly held her breath, fearing her chest would burst from the force of her heart slamming against her ribs.
A primal scream lodged in her throat and her body shaking, she stepped out from the trees. “Dylan, I’m right here. Do you remember me? I’m Ryder’s sister, Carly. We met at the bowling alley.”
The teenager spun around and stalked toward her. “Who else is out there?”
“I’m alone.” She inched closer. If she could see Dylan’s eyes, she could judge his reactions. Then maybe she could calm him down.
“Carly, leave,” Owen snapped.
Sirens blared in the distance. Dylan spun to face Ryder and Owen. “They’re coming to get me! This is your fault! Give me the keys.” Dylan raced toward Ryder and Owen, still clutching the board. Carly screamed for Owen and her brother to run, but neither moved. She charged forward to draw his attention. “Don’t hurt them, Dylan!” When the teen drew back the board as if stepping up to the home plate to bat, she launched herself at Owen, praying she could knock him out of the way or, at least, absorb part of the blow.
The crack of wood connecting with bone, followed by pain pierced Carly’s arm and side as she flew backwards to land in a heap. Fire pulsed through her, and something wet and warm seeped through her T-shirt. She spotted the wood nearby and frowned. The board had been weathered brownish gray, but now streaks of red covered it.
As blinding pain rolled over her, her brain grew foggy. Images of her life flashed in her mind. The emptiness, the nights and weekends spent alone or working taunted her. Then images of Owen filled her vision. Of them working side by side, of him reassuring her, of being her confidant, of the life they could’ve had together.
