Page 134 of Not a Word

He went first.

Crane was looking my way when Holden let out a scream. A simple: “Fucker!” I think he meant to startle Crane enough that it would slow his reaction time, that Crane wouldn’t have time to turn the gun on him and fire.

But there was a gap of some ten feet between them, and it was going to take Holden a full second, maybe two, to close the distance, plenty of time for Crane to do what he had to do.

And he did it.

He trained the weapon on Holden and pulled the trigger. The gun was fitted with an attachment meant, I guessed, to silence the shot, but it still made enough noise to make everyone’s heart skip a beat.

Holden wouldn’t reach Crane before that bullet took him down. But it didn’t hit him.

“No!”

The cry came from my mother. She leapt in front of Holden in time to take the bullet herself. As it entered her chest, she was thrown back into my brother’s arms.

There wasn’t time to take in the enormity of what was happening.

I shouted at Diana and Gage: “Run!”

They hesitated for a millisecond, then Gage grabbed his mother’s arm and said, “Woods!”

A painful wail came from Mom as a dark patch began to blossom across her chest. Holden had his arms around her as the two of them sagged to the ground.

Standing as I was by the old rowboat, barely visible in the twilight, I saw something.

The top half of that paddle my father had angrily snapped in half so many years ago and left to rot. I grabbed it, a two-foot gray and weathered piece of wood with a sharp, jagged end.

Crane caught a glimpse of Diana and Gage running along the edge of the pond for the cover of the trees, but he was more focused on Holden and my mother, thinking, I guessed, he would finish them off before he took me on and went into the woods after Diana and Gage.

I grasped my short spear with both hands and ran at him with everything I had.

He got off a shot, and I could swear, later, that I felt it whiz past my ear, but I was focused on other things at the moment, and before he could pull the trigger again, I drove the splintered end of that paddle into his stomach.

Crane staggered and hit the ground on his back, but the gun had not fallen from his hand. He started to raise it as I drew the paddle out of him—its sharp end black with blood—and drove it into him again, this time with more leverage since I was hovering over him.

There had to be a good six inches of it inside him.

He made a choking sound and the arm wielding the gun fell to the ground. Holden had gently put my mother on her back and dived on top of her like a platoon commander saving his outfit by jumping on a live grenade. Blood bubbled out of Crane’s mouth and his head turned slightly to the side as life slipped away from him.

It didn’t take long.

Holden, not wanting to take any chances, got a grip on Crane’s arm where it met his shoulder, immobilizing it, then pried the gun from the dead man’s fingers.

I called out to Diana and Gage, who’d effectively vanished, “It’s okay! He’s down! Call an ambulance!” Crane hadn’t gotten to relieving any of us of our cell phones, so Diana or Gage could make the call while Holden and I turned our attention to Mom.

Holden sat on the ground and cradled her head in his lap.

“Hang in there,” he said.

I was on her other side. “Help’s coming. Won’t be long.”

Gage, approaching, phone in hand, said, “They’re on their way.”

“Go out front, watch for them,” I said. He nodded and dashed off while Diana knelt down with my brother and me.

Mom’s eyes were fixed on Holden. She reached up with a weak hand and touched his cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.