Just an oblique blankness that not only alarmed me, but it also sent shivers of fear slithering down my spine.
I’d been shot before. Not once, but three times. All of them had been minor in comparison to what I was feeling now.
A weird sort of resignation started to settle into my bones, and I had a few moments of regret as I made the last four yards to the car by sheer force of will.
As I came to a stop, a wave of dizziness rolled over me, filling me with what could only be described as acceptance.
This was it.
I was about to die.
I’d performed countless missions as a Navy SEAL. I’d been through two deployments. Firefights. Bombings. You name it, I’d been through it.
I’d never thought that I would die like this. I’d thought I would go out in a bang of glory, shooting my way out of a sticky situation.
Yet, I was going to die lying flat on my stomach, while I tried to get the attention of a woman yielding a fucking AR-15.
If I could get her to poke her head out of the car enough, I knew that the police officers would be able to take the shot.
I knew that, at least, one of the men on the other side of the line had a sniper rifle.
Brenda wouldn’t even know what hit her.
But as I started to beat on the one thing I could reach, the tire, I realized that it was hard to hear anything over the gunfire that was still sounding through the air around me.
Resigning myself with what I had to do next, I palmed my gun in my left hand—the one that I only ever practiced with if something were to happen to my shooting hand—and grimaced.
I’d never thought I’d have to actually utilize the skills, but again, I found myself surprised.
I crawled another few inches forward, and my gun clinked against the asphalt, sounding loud in the gap between gunfire.
“Did you hear that?”
I winced at Brenda’s suddenly sharp, raised voice.
“No, I can’t hear a goddamn thing because you’re shooting that rifle in my ear,” Ephraim bellowed. “You’re going to die. I’m going to have to watch you die. Your daughter’s going to be devastated. She’s just gotten to Germany, only now she’ll have to turn around and attend your goddamn funeral.”
Brenda said something in reply, but Ephraim interrupted her before she could finish.
“I don’t know why I should be surprised by this. You knew all along that our son was a fuckin’ rapist, and I supported you even when I knew you were wrong. Supported you through his death. I loved him, but he did wrong, Brenda. You can’t fault someone for something that they were doing to protect their own sister. You need to calm down. You need to put the gun down, and then you need to pray that this isn’t going to escalate into full out prison time. My heart’s not good, and you’re making it worse.”
“Oh, shut up.”
That I heard, and I wanted to applaud Ephraim for his passionate speech. Oh, and finally having the balls to stand up to his wife.
There was nothing wrong with supporting your wife and child. That’s how many wars were started. You believe in your family, almost to the point of recklessness. It’s human nature to want to protect your child.
What is not human nature is to support a child so much that you’re willing to take on the police to do it when there is no possible route of escape.
Even if she did manage to get me out of the equation, she wasn’t getting away with this. Her son would still be dead, and she’d be in prison because she killed a police officer.
I crawled forward a little more, this time not bothering to conceal the sound of my movement, and Brenda’s head appeared over the side of the car that was still in the air.
With it up on its side, the roof protected her at her front, and the undercarriage of the car at her back, meaning she thought she was safe…but she wasn’t.
I raised my gun and aimed it at her face.
“Drop the gun over the side and put your hands in the air,” I told her, my finger tightening almost imperceptibly on the trigger.
She ducked back underneath the cover the car created, and then came back up. Only, she didn’t drop the gun. Instead, she confirmed my fears, and aimed the weapon directly at my chest.
Before she could even squeeze the first shot off in my direction, the entire late afternoon sky lit up with gunfire. And none of it came from me.
***
Audrey
My head hurrrrrrt.
Oh, God.
I’d never even been drunk before, yet hitting my head felt like something akin to death.
“Tobias?” I called out, barely opening my eye to take a look at my surroundings.
What had woken me? Better yet, what had happened to give me the mother of all headaches?
Nothing looked familiar…not at first.
It took me seeing the lights flashing on the console of what I assumed to be Tobias’ police cruiser, as well as the computer lying in a crumpled heap against my leg, to realize where I was.
“Tobias?” I called out, a little more loudly this time.
There was no answer, and it was then that I saw the spider webbing of the glass belonging to what was left of the windshield.
A really bad feeling started to roll through me, and I swallowed, ready to call out once again, when movement from the door I was obviously leaning on had me nearly toppling out of the car.
The only thing that held me secure was the seat belt, which was only attached around my waist, and a hand that came up to catch me before I could hit the floor.
“Don’t move, honey.”
My breathing hitched as I heard my brother’s voice.
Even after all this time, it was still such a soothing sound to hear. Not because he had a nice voice, because that was for sure not the case, but because I’d never thought I would hear it ever again.
“Tunnel,” I whispered, my lips thick and tongue even thicker. “What’s happening?”
I could hear a rhythmic pop-pop-pop-pop-pop, but I didn’t pay it much attention while I opened my eyes even wider and stared at my brother expectantly.
“You were in an accident,” he said. “I’m going to cut you free of the belt,” he said. “It might hurt. Your head’s got a large gash on it, and you probably have a concussion.”
That explained why my head was throbbing so badly.
“Okay,” I cleared my throat. “Where’s Tobias?”
I was in his cruiser, after all. It only made sense that he was somewhere around.
“Cutting,” Tunnel grunted, pulling out the knife he always held on his person, and cut me free of my restrictions.
When I started to fall, Tunnel caught me up in his arms, and then immediately started to carry me off into the woods—not the way that I would’ve expected him to move me.
“Tunnel?” I repeated.
“Shhh,” he hissed. “Don’t talk.”
Then he crouched down, and leaned me up against the tree.
“I think you might need an ambulance,” he said. “Your eyes are so dilated that I can’t even see the iris. Does anything else hurt besides your head?”
He pulled off his shirt and pressed the white fabric against my head, making me wince.
“No,” at least I didn’t think so.
And why wasn’t he answering my questions?