I keep my mouth shut in case there is someone guarding the barn and they saw me coming.
The smell of hay and shit, literally, wafts through the entire place. I have that aroma to thank for the fact I’m paying more attention to the ground than what or who is around me.
There’s another scent in here, too, I realize, though.
Pot.
A hand grabs me by the neck of my shirt and throws me to the ground. My instincts kick in, and I make to get up but they shove me against a stack of hay bales. They cover my mouth before I can ask what the fuck.
“Shhhhh.”
I bite his hand.
“Fuck, Jackie.”
“Jesus.” Nick pulls his hand away to inspect it for bleeding. I rub my neck where he was practically strangling my ass a few seconds ago.
How in the hell did he beat me here? I’m the one that ran the mile in twelve minutes flat on the track team.
“You could’ve just fucking said ‘hey, Jack, it’s Nick. Be quiet, okay?’ Instead of all that bullshit,” I whisper-yell. I’m not stupid. He must know someone else is here if he’s being all stealthy and whatnot.
“And you didn’t have to fucking bite me!” he whisper-screams back.
A gruff, deep sort of snort sounds from somewhere in the building. I shut the fuck up to listen and try to figure out what in the hell it was. Nick pulls at me again, then points in another direction.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
No wonder I didn’t see anyone guarding the barn.
They didn’t need anyone.
They’ve got a bull.
Nick winces. Barely. I look at him to give him shit, then I notice, saying, “You’re bleeding.”
“Only a little bit.” He pushes himself up into a sitting position, but he’s obviously in pain.
“What the… where?” I kneel down next to him and check the important spots. His gut, his thigh.
“Here.” He grabs my hand and places it against his shoulder.
“How bad?”
“Not sure,” he breathes. “Bad enough to make me wanna lie down and take a nap; not bad enough to make me wanna puke.”
“Okay.” That’s encouraging. He’s still got a sense of humor. “You sit tight. I’m gonna get the kid, then we’re gonna get the hell outta here, and you’re going to a hospital.”
No sweat.
I get up and pull the S&W out. “Hang in there.”
“Be careful,” he tells me. Like I fucking need him to tell me that shit when there’s a thousand-pound bull to face off with.
I study the place and figure this bull? He’s gotta be guarding the space next to him. It’s the only place I can’t get to without getting past him. That’s where Stix has to be.
So I take a breath and go the fuck for it.
For the time being, he pays me no mind. He’s got a trough full of who knows what, but it’s almost empty from what I can tell. And just a wild guess, but I’m pretty sure when he’s done, I’ll be his next target. Unless I can find the kid and get him, along with my injured brother, the fuck out before that happens.
“Nice bull.” I shuffle by him slow and steady so I can properly check the other side of this place to see if Stix is here. It’s tight between him and the wood slats keeping him from getting out of the barn.
It’s cool. This shouldn’t be too hard, right? Should only take a minute. I just need to be quick about it.
My not-so-friendly looking friend stops eating to glance up at me just as I’m squeezing my way past his personal space. I freeze, wide-eyed.
“Hey there, dozer.” Bulldozer. Get it?
I talk soft, thinking if I give him a name, he’ll appreciate that.
I smile. He grunts and his front hoof stomps the floor.
“Don’t piss him off,” Nick advises from the safety of his hay bale-stuffed corner. No shit, Sherlock.
Dozer lowers his head again, and I can feel the hot, sticky air his nostrils blow out as I swallow down the fear he just instilled upon my ass.
I breathe out to squeeze past the last couple feet of Dozer’s space, then I want to fucking faint.
“Jesus.”
“You make it?” Nick calls out from the other side of the pen.
“Yeah.” I slink around, quietly calling out to the kid, in case he’s hurt or something. When I hear banging, I move in that direction. And then I see it. A room with no windows. The door is closed, but I hear the muffled sound of who I have to assume is Stix on the other side of it.
Just as I’m about to kick the door in, out flies the kid. He’s a banshee with a vendetta who’s been waiting for the opportunity to escape. He drops the inner workings of the door knob he just broke, and I should have fucking known he’d find a way to break himself out.
Fucking genius.
Before he sees it’s me, he starts swinging his hands around just hoping he hits something.
“It’s me, Stix. Whoa!” He doesn’t hear me. Or can’t hear through the anxiety and stress that’s no doubt pumping through his veins. But lucky for me, he’s dehydrated, so he doesn’t have a whole hell of a lot of energy.