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Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
I run after her, around the apartment block, and in the distance, I see her struggling as a man drags her across the neighboring parking lot. To subdue her, he slams her face into the side of a van, knocking her out.
I see red.
Every neuron ignites with murderous rage.
I run toward them, but he shoves an unconscious Rory into the van and starts firing his gun at me. A bullet whistles past my head, then another hits the row of mailboxes beside me.
In seconds, he’s inside the van and skidding away.
I run back to my bike. I leap on and roar out of the parking lot, riding through the rain like a man possessed.
Wind whips around me, and the hard summer rain stings my face as I follow the ruby taillights through the gloom. I don’t have time to call anyone. The precious seconds I’d lose calling for help would mean I’d lose sight of them.
Lightning passes through the clouds as we leave the town behind us and head toward the county line. Houses and barns become fewer and fewer, and the landscape opens up to wide fields.
I’m gaining on him but he shoots at me, almost knocking me off my bike, making me lose seconds as I struggle to regain control.
The van flies over railway tracks way too fast, sending dust and debris into the air as it recovers and speeds off. In my peripheral, I see the light from the train. In a few seconds, it’s going to cut me off if I don’t get over the tracks.
I will beat it.
I have to.
In the final second, I screech on the brakes and almost come off my bike as it skids and slides beneath me.
Fuck.
The seconds pass in agonizing slowness as I wait for the train to pass.
Every rumble of the train wheels is torture, and when the final carriage passes, and I can see ahead of me again, they’re gone.
I’ve lost them.
I take off over the tracks and into the darkness. There isn’t a lot out here. No homes. No buildings. Just the abandoned marina a few miles beyond the woods. It’s the only place this road leads to, and unless The Three have somewhere hidden in the hardwood forest, that’s going to be my best shot at finding Rory.
I slow my pace, my eyes razor sharp as I search the dark woods for any sign of life as I pass by.
This is my fault.
If I hadn’t walked away from Rory, then this would never have happened.
My grip tightens around my handlebars. If he hurts her I will kill him slowly and painfully.
As the marina comes into view, I approach it slowly.
A few summers back, three EF3 tornadoes touched down in the area and decimated it. Wooden logs from the broken docks and boat slips stick out of the water like gray bones. Abandoned boats covered in mud and weathered by neglect list on their sides in the black water. It’s eerily quiet and dark, except for the single light coming from a boat floating quietly at the end of the dock.
It has to be them.
I reach for my gun but come up empty.
Fuck.
When I left the clubhouse this afternoon, I only had one thing on my mind and that was confronting Rory, and I forgot to grab my piece off my bedside table.
But I can’t worry about that now.
