“He missed a set,” I said, and swallowed. The sirens sounded closer. “They’re gone, and there isn’t anything I can do about it. Even if I wanted to. Wendell collected cell phones, too. I can’t call them, and if I could, they haven’t got a phone.”
Timmy Wickens thought about that, ran his tongue over his teeth. Then he sucked the spit off them, hissing, and bared his teeth like one of his now dead pit bulls.
Or a wolf.
“It’s your fault,” he said, and pulled the trigger.
The bullet went past my left ear and blew a hole in the wall. It was like thunder. It couldn’t have been meant to hit me. I was too close for him to miss.
“Everything’s gone wrong since you came up here. Started nosing around. Talking to May behind my back.”
He fired again. This time the bullet went past my right ear and blew out a window. I was cold with fear.
But I managed to find some words in my throat. I needed time for help to arrive, and talking might stretch things out.
“I think things went wrong when you let your dogs kill Morton Dewart,” I said, and swallowed. “That’s what got people asking questions. That, and killing Tiff Riley, stealing the fertilizer, those kinds of things.”
I thought I heard the sound of crunching gravel, of a car coming down the hill to the cabins.
Timmy motioned for me to move toward the center of the room. He took three steps in, away from the door.
“I was going to be somebody,” Timmy said.
“Excuse me?”
“I was going to be somebody. People would’ve talked about me. I’d have gone into the history books.”
“I suppose that’s true,” I said. “Just like McVeigh.”
Timmy nodded.
“But people would have had to find out,” I said. “You’d have to be caught for the world to know what you’d done.”
Timmy thought about that. “Eventually. I wouldn’t have minded waiting a little while. Turning on the news, hearing about them looking for me. Other people, cheering me on.” He moved forward and pushed the barrel of the gun up against my neck. “Except not people like you. People who don’t give a fuck about how this country is going into the toilet.”
Unless I stepped back, I couldn’t talk or swallow. I inched backwards, but Timmy moved with me, the barrel pushing into the flesh of my neck. Before I knew it, I was up against the wall.
“Why don’t you make a run for it?” I said, my chin raised, head tilted to one side. “Just go. Disappear into the woods.”
He grinned. “There’s still a nasty bear out there.”
No, I thought. There isn’t.
Timmy forced the gun a little harder into my neck. “But with this, I guess I’d stand a pretty good chance, wouldn’t I?”
“So go,” I said, shifting my neck a bit to the right to keep from choking. “Take off.”
Timmy stared at me. “I got just one thing left to do,” he said. “And that’s deal with you.”
Could I run? Could I rush him? Was there anything I could do to avoid getting shot by Timmy Wickens? With the barrel of a gun already pressed up against my neck?
I thought of Sarah. And Paul, and Angie.
“Hear those sirens?” I asked Timmy. “Sounds like they’re already up at your place. Fire department, ambulance. Police. They’re going to be down here soon. You don’t have much time.”
The door he’d been standing by when I came in suddenly swung open. Chief Orville Thorne stepped in, his pistol drawn.
Even though Orville had a gun and I didn’t, Timmy Wickens kept his weapon fixed on me.
“Timmy, Mr. Wickens,” Orville said. “Put down your weapon.”
Timmy grinned, and showed his teeth again. “Well, look who’s here to save the day. How’s that make you feel, Mr. Walker? You’re waiting for help to arrive, and look who shows.”
“Hi, Orville,” I said, and tried to swallow my fear.
Orville didn’t look at me. He raised his pistol, wrapped both hands around it.
“Come on, Timmy,” he said, almost pleading. “Put your gun down.”
“Orville, take a walk,” Timmy said, his voice confident. He’d been in this place before. “Go home. Go home before I take away your hat and your gun.”
Orville kept his pistol aimed at Timmy. But he kept blinking, like he had sweat or tears in his eyes.
“Maybe I’m not getting through to you, Orville,” Timmy said. “You walk away and you don’t even see what it is I have to do. You can say you came in just a minute too late, that Mr. Walker was already dead, that I was gone. You’ve always been a reasonable sort, Orville, and this would be the wrong time to be stupid.”
Timmy glanced at Orville, just for a moment, long enough to see that Orville was scared. Maybe not as scared as I was. But scared.
“Orville,” Timmy said. “Take. A. Walk.”
I stared down the barrel of the shotgun. Timmy smiled, shook his head at Orville’s foolishness, and squeezed his finger around the trigger.
Orville Thorne shot Timmy Wickens in the neck.
Timmy said, “Ack.”