She rounded a hall corner and spotted her sister on the den floor. A man straddled her bleeding body. He looked up as Mercy froze and he lunged for her, knocking her to her knees as she spun around to run.
In the hallway his weight landed on her back, crushing the breath out of her lungs. She fought, swinging her arms and kicking her legs with every fiber of her muscles. She flung her head upward and was rewarded with a satisfying chunk as she connected with his nose.
“Fucking bitch!”
He grabbed her hair, yanking her head back, and punched the side of her face with his other hand. A section of hair ripped out of her scalp. Mercy’s eyes watered and her neck throbbed where it overextended. She stopped fighting.
He’s going to kill me.
Is Rose already dead?
Is this what happened to those other girls?
Is he the killer?
He released her hair and leaned harder on her back, speaking in her ear, his breath hot on her skin. An odor of fear and excitement reached her nose, rancid and oily. Her brain refused to compute his words of terror.
He yanked on the back of her jeans waistband.
Something erupted deep inside her and she arched back, leading with her elbow, determined to find his face. Her elbow connected with his eye socket and he screamed, slapping his hands over his eye. Mercy scrambled out from under him, kicking frantically, wishing she still wore her boots. She tripped and lunged, barely keeping her balance, to get back to the den to Rose.
Her sister was on her hands and knees; blood trickled from her nose and mouth, and her dress was torn down the front. Her bra and stomach were visible. Mercy stopped in shock and then rushed to help her sister. Rose cowered back and rose to her knees, one of their father’s handguns in her shaking hand, pointing at Mercy.
“Rose! It’s Mercy.”
The gun immediately lowered. “Mercy?” Rose’s voice wavered.
“Give me that.” Mercy snatched the gun from her hand and whirled around to glimpse the back of their attacker as he vanished around a hall corner. “Don’t move!” she ordered Rose, and ran after the man, adrenaline pumping through her limbs.
Shoot him, shoot him, shoot him.
The gun settled comfortably in her grip. She’d fired her father’s guns hundreds of times.
This is why he made us drill.
She turned a corner in time to see the man abruptly reverse direction. He’d started to run through the kitchen, but nearly fell over as he changed his mind and lurched in the direction of the front of the house. Mercy planted her feet, aimed, and fired once. Two shots sounded.
He collapsed on the floor of their family room.
She held her position, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest and her panting filling her ears.
He didn’t move.
“Mercy? Rose?” Levi shouted from the kitchen.
“We’re okay!” she answered.
Her brother peeked around the corner from the kitchen and his eyes widened as he saw her gun aimed at the man on the floor. Blood rapidly pooled around the body.
I’ll have to scrub that floor.
“God’s eyes, Mercy! Did you shoot him too?”
She spotted the raised gun in her brother’s hand. No wonder the thug had reversed direction.
“He attacked Rose, he attacked me. Oh my God.” She turned her head in the direction of her sister. “Rose? Are you okay?” Mercy couldn’t pull her weapon away from its position, trained on the body.
“I’m okay.” Rose’s voice shook but sounded strong behind Mercy. “Is he dead?”
“I think so.” Mercy looked at her brother. “Check him.” Her feet were glued to the floor.
“I shot him too,” said Levi. “I could hear you screaming from outside.”
Mercy didn’t realize she’d screamed. “Check him,” she repeated in a whisper.
Levi slowly approached the body, his weapon trained on the figure. She wanted to holler at him to hurry up, he moved so slowly. He finally knelt next to the man and placed his fingertips on his neck.
He waited forever.
“He’s dead.” Levi moved the head to look at the face. He glanced over his shoulder at Mercy. “Do you know him?”
She found the strength to move her feet and crept forward, the gun lowered at her side. She wasn’t ready to set it down, but the compulsion to point it at the body was gone; he was no longer a threat. She looked over Levi’s shoulder and couldn’t put a name to the face. He was young. In his twenties. He wore the dusty jeans and boots of every other man in town and hadn’t shaved in several days. The back of his plaid shirt was soaked with blood.
We shot him in the back.
He’s unarmed.
Warmth touched her toes and Mercy jumped back. Her sock was red with his blood. She made a strangled sound and bent over to rip off the sock, wiping at her toes. OhmyGodOhmyGod. She rubbed until every speck was gone.
It just appears to be gone. Tests could still find his blood on my skin.
She met Levi’s gaze. “What did we do?” she whispered. “Oh my God, Levi. We’ll go to prison for this.”