You Only Die Twice

Chapter THIRTY-NINE





But she missed. Missed!

The rock skirted past his face and he stumbled backward, aware―at least on some level―that she’d almost struck him again.

There had to be another rock, but there was no way that she could expect to get down on her knees, find one, and then get back up again in time to hit him with it. It would take too long. The pain would be too great. She might not get to her feet again. And in the meantime, even if she did so, he’d find the gun. As weak as he was right now, his weakness didn’t matter. He had a gun armed with a laser and right now, both were his best friends. All he needed to do was to plant that beam somewhere on her body and shoot. Then she’d likely be dead.

Move!

It was her father’s voice she heard.

Don’t get lazy on me now, Cheryl. Get out!

This time, it was her grandfather’s voice and by the tone of it, he wasn’t having any of this. He and her father had raised her to be tough. In spite of a bullet wound to the arm (a mere knick, Cheryl) and one to the thigh (it didn’t exactly hit your heart, did it?), they would refuse to accept any kind of weakness. But that was her Maine heritage. To survive in this state, with its lack of good-paying jobs and its difficult winters, one had to be strong. That’s what they demanded from her. That’s what they prepared her for.

She couldn’t let them or herself down.

She pressed away from the tree, listened to the faint sound of the sirens off in the distance and started to stagger in their direction. The pain was ungodly, but worse were the woods themselves. They were dense, unforgiving and difficult to navigate.

Twigs slapped against her face. She walked forward with one arm on her bloody thigh, and one arm stretched out in front of her in an effort to clear a path for herself―a battle she lost with each step. The only upside is that soon, if she could manage to keeping moving forward, the woods would close behind her, they’d swallow her up, and eventually, they’d shield her from him.

How far away was the road? How much longer before he came after her? It wouldn’t be long. She may have broken his nose and his teeth, but soon enough, his head would clear. Rage and insanity would drive him forward. Shooting her in the leg wasn’t going to satisfy him. Killing her would.

She struggled up an incline and saw the red laser beam dart ahead of her. It was there only for an instant, but it told her all she needed to know. He was coming for her now. Not far behind. And then it struck her. Was it him? Or was it the other one?

“F*cking bitch...”

It was him.

She struggled to move faster and grabbed onto saplings in an effort to help pull herself up the hill. The gun went off behind her and this time, she did scream, even if he didn’t come close to hitting her. This time, she screamed louder than she ever had in her life. It wasn’t just a scream borne out of shock and fear. It was a scream that demanded that she be heard. Was that possible given the fire’s roar and the sirens’ wails? Probably not. But she nevertheless screamed again only to hear the gun go off twice.

In front of her, just to her right, bark blew off a pine and the debris smacked against her face. The laser flashed, and this time it slashed across her outstretched hand before it wavered into the forest. She could hear him behind her, grunting, moaning and heaving as he closed the distance between them.

“HELP ME!” she shouted. “SOMEBODY! HELP ME!”

“No one’s going to help you.”

She reached out for a limb to pull herself up and nearly fell backward when it snapped off. She looked fleetingly at it in the flickering orange light. It was thick, blunt, came from a dead tree.

Crutch.

She lowered it beside her wounded leg and was surprised by how much faster she could move with the weight off her leg.

The laser swept the forest ahead of her. He wasn’t at the point where he could aim steadily, but because he wasn’t shooting, he obviously was at the point where he knew he couldn’t continue to shoot and waste his ammunition. She could hear him crashing behind her, sometimes slipping, often gurgling and spitting, once falling, and figured he must be moving on pure will and instinct.

Just like me.

She crested the hill and when she did, her heart stopped at what she saw. She couldn’t believe what she saw. She had reached the edge of the woods. Ahead of her was the road.

It was like some unreal vision. Something she never thought she’d see.

She hurried toward it.

Behind her came another muffled gunshot.

And this time, Cheryl Dunning went down hard.