Page 53 of Outback Skies


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“We’re en route to the house. Are you still there?”

“Yes, sir. I’m outside in the backyard. Finn is still trapped inside. And the house is booby trapped with a bomb. But I believe he is safe,” she added as an afterthought.

“Yes. Thank you. We got the information from dispatch. Are you sure about the bomb?”

“Ah…” She wavered. Swampy and Garrett had seemed pretty definite. She didn’t doubt them. But she also had no solid proof there was a bomb in the house. “I’m pretty sure, sir.”

“Right,” he replied. She could hear someone giving orders in the background, and the sound of a siren wailing. “I want you to stay where you are. We’ll be there in two minutes. And please don’t touch anything.”

She didn’t respond, not wanting to make a promise she might not keep. Perhaps if she could let Finn know she was here, that Mike was on his way.

“Miss Solomon?” Mike’s voice snapped her back.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be waiting.” She ended the call and put the phone back in her pocket.

Gathering up the dropped implements, she stepped out of the shed and into the backyard. Just as Swampy descended the back stairs in a hurry, pulling the door shut behind him.

She stopped to stare at him.

As soon as he saw her, an evil grin spread across his fat face. “Too late, now, girly,” he crowed. “I just tripped the device. Figured I may as well get one of you. I know you warned the coppers.” Swampy was still moving, getting as far away from the house as he could. “That fucking Garrett betrayed me, but I’m off to get him next. His life ain’t worth squat now, that little prick.”

Indy’s gaze swapped between him and the derelict building, not really understanding what Swampy had just done.

“Go on. I’d love to see you dive in there and try and save him. But you ain’t got long, five seconds maybe.” He was jogging toward her as he spoke, his large belly wobbling with the effort. “Because you either die in the explosion, or at my hands. Take your pick.”

“What?” Indy couldn’t believe it, her mind scrambled to make sense of what was happening. “You can’t. How did you…?” She dropped the tools and darted around him, even as he grabbed for her. He turned with a snarl and started to lumber after her, but she ignored him as she ran toward the house.

She was halfway across the yard when the house exploded, sending a searing orange fireball reaching for the sky. Glass shattered, and wood and metal flew in all directions. Indy was knocked to the ground by the impact. On instinct, she covered her head with her hands as burning embers and pieces of wreckage rained down on her.

CHATPER TWENTY-ONE

INDY COUGHED, THE smoke and dust were so thick she couldn’t see a foot in front of her.

“No! No! Nooooo.” The words were ripped from her throat in a horrified cry. She was just about to save Finn. Swampy had ruined it all. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

Standing up, she pushed away the refuse lying all around. The smoke began to clear, and she stared at the ruined house in front of her. Flames licked out of the window from what had once been the kitchen. Part of the roof was blown completely off, and smoke billowed from the windows facing the front. The house was still partially standing. But no one could’ve survived that. Indy was numb. Her whole body was just…numb, like she couldn’t process what was happening. She couldn’t be too late to save Finn, she just couldn’t. He’d been in the basement. Perhaps he might’ve survived the blast, somehow.

Rushing toward the house, she called his name. “Finn. Finn, answer me. Are you there? Please, answer me.” Her last words came out as a sob. The little window that led into the basement, just along from the stairs coming down from the backdoor was completely gone, covered by the steps which had collapsed in a pile of rubble. She sank to her knees and began to sob for real.

There was a sound behind her. A deep, rumbling sound. Like somebody laughing.

Slowly, she got to her feet and spun on her heel to see Swampy closing in on her. His beard jiggled up-and-down with his unconfined mirth.

“I got that bastard,” Swampy roared. “He won’t be doing no more detective work. And you’re next, you interfering little bitch.”

“You,” she hissed.

“Yeah, me,” Swampy crowed. He raised an eyebrow in her direction, and then grinned at the burning house, is if pleased with a job well done.

Finn was dead. Her world went red. A ferocious need to maim, kill, blew through her like an incendiary fire. She didn’t care that he was aiming to kill her. Instead of turning to run, she charged at Swampy as if possessed by the devil.

He only had time to give a shout of surprise, before she dive-tackled him, and took him out at the knees. His enormous bulk hit the ground with a sickening thud.

She bared her teeth and leaped for his throat, like an animal possessed. He was big and heavy. Much heavier than her. And as she tried to land a fist in his face, he brushed her hand aside, like it was a mere nothing, then he slammed his own fist into the side of her head. Intense pain bloomed, and for a second, she thought she might blackout. In that instant, Swampy yelled and reared up, catching her head between his two meaty hands and bringing it down on the ground beside him, smacking her forehead against the dirt. This time, stars shimmered in front of her eyes. Or was it just flames from the fire?

He rolled her over and then Swampy climbed astride her, his huge size no match for her small frame. It felt like he was crushing her with his weight; it was hard to breathe. But she wasn’t going down without a fight. This man had killed Finn. Adrenaline was surging through her like a wave of hot lava. She’d use that strength.

Remembering a move she’d seen a girl do once in a movie, she swung her legs up and around him, managing to get one booted heel beneath his chin. The other leg wouldn’t fit aroundhis huge girth. But one foot might be enough. The hard heel of her cowboy boot wedged into the fleshy part of his gullet, and she heard his croaky cry cut off, as she rammed her foot as hard as it would go, muscles in her thigh screaming. Using her other foot as leverage, she pushed against the ground, lifting her hips and squeezing tight with her thighs, digging her elbows into the dust as she arched her back. His fingers tore at her arms, her chest, reaching for her face, but she held him away, and he finally toppled backwards, slamming against the ground in an effort to break free as he gasped for breath.

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