“I’ll be fine, and you’ve been pissed at me before. Now go on.”
Lynn was gone when the next flash lit the room, and Lucy spotted the rickety shadow of the staircase. She began crawling toward it without a word, well aware Joss didn’t need encouragement to stay close. The needles in her arm surged with movement, and she bit down to keep from crying out. She bumped into the first step and clamped her teeth as the pain shot through her shoulder, drawing blood from her bottom lip.
She crawled up six steps before the wood beneath gave away. Joss trembled a step below her, tangling herself in Lucy’s legs in an effort to find cover. Lucy flicked the safety on the pistol and lay very still. The rain let up, the relentless pounding on the slate roof falling back to a low thrum. A rifle crack rang out, and an unmistakable male yelp of pain. Lucy smiled in the darkness.
“How’d she do that?” Joss asked. “How’d she know where to shoot in the dark?”
“Lynn’s rifle is another arm to her. Shooting someone in the pitch black is no different to her than you finding your own face in the night.”
Joss was silent after that, as was Lynn’s gun. The rain spattered on the roof, its inconsistent rhythm fading into a sprinkle.
“I’m here.” Lynn’s voice cut through the darkness, and relief radiated through Lucy at the sound.
“We’re on the stairs,” she called. “You scare them off?”
“Seems that way. Come on out of there. We’re not staying a second longer.”
Joss and Lucy slipped down the staircase, groping in the dark for their belongings. Lucy grabbed the straps of Lynn’s backpack and her own. She could hear Joss moving through the blackness to her right, where she and Lynn had been sleeping.
“I’ve got your two blankets,” Joss whispered. “Can you grab mine?”
Lucy felt around for a few moments before realizing Lynn had used it to smother the fire. That bit of explanation could wait for later. When Lucy tried to lift her pack, the weight sent a fresh bolt of pain through her shoulder, and she cried out.
Lynn was beside her quickly, taking both Lucy’s pack and her own without comment. They left the house through the back door. Even though it wasn’t raining anymore, they were soaked within seconds from the drops clinging to stalks of grass. Lucy followed Lynn, her good arm laced through one of the packs, while Joss held on to Lucy’s shirt. The night was utterly dark, and Lynn didn’t move them far before stopping.
“Should be okay here,” she said. “There’s a little cover, and they won’t be able to track us in this pitch.”
Lynn grabbed Lucy’s hand and touched it to a tree. Lucy leaned against it for support, sliding down to the ground in exhaustion. She heard Joss doing the same beside her, and the three rested against the trunk for a few moments in silence.
“Sorry about your blanket,” Lynn finally said.
Beside her, Lucy felt Joss shrug. “It’s okay.”
“We’ll get you a new one once we’re back on the road.”
“Sounds good.”
“How’s your shoulder?” Lucy felt Lynn’s hands wandering up her arm, but she shrugged her off.
“It hurts,” she said. “But there’s nothing you can do without any light, and I’m not dying.”
Lynn’s hands dropped from her, and Lucy rested her head on the other woman’s shoulder, letting the panic and fear of the night coalesce into a deep sleep that the pain could not penetrate.
When they woke, Joss was gone.
“She must’ve really been offended when you burned her blanket,” Lucy said, ignoring the cold sweat that had broken out on her face as soon as Lynn probed her shoulder wound.
“Mmm,” Lynn said, turning Lucy to get the best of the new morning light on the bullet hole. “Doesn’t look like it hit too much important, bone-wise. Here, feel this.”
She pulled Lucy’s good hand around her chest to put it on the right shoulder blade, where Lucy could feel a small, hard lump resting below the skin. “Am I breaking out again?”
Lynn actually smiled. “You’re in good humor, for being shot.”
“I don’t know that it would hurt less if I complained about it.”
“I don’t know either,” Lynn said, unsheathing her knife. “Never been shot, myself.”
Lucy looked away from the naked blade as Lynn circled behind her. “Seriously? I thought you would’ve been shot at least seven, eight times?”
“Been shot at plenty, just too quick to ever get hit.”
“So now I’m slow?” Lucy said, baring her teeth as she felt Lynn pinching the trapped bullet between her fingers.
“Hold still now,” Lynn said as she hovered over Lucy’s back. “No, I’d say you’re more like an easy target, what with putting on your bucket show back there.”
There was a flare of pain across her back, no worse than a bee sting. “Just trying to make you laugh,” Lucy said. “Dammit! I forgot the buckets.”
“I think you did more damage to it than it did to you,” Lynn said, holding a bloody, smashed bullet out to Lucy.