He hopped into sight and yanked something out of his leg, staring at it for a brief moment before tossing it to the ground. The reflective properties caught my eye as the unmistakable shape of a silver dart.
Denver ripped his pant leg all the way up and used a knife to cut where the dart had gone in. He squeezed hard, and blood trickled down his leg. Denver had a look that telegraphed his thoughts loud and clear, and he was thinking: This shit is not going to work. My ass is Jell-O in about five minutes.
He continued massaging with his hands, forcing the blood out. Then he ripped the pant leg all the way off and made a tourniquet above his knee.
Shifting to heal wasn’t an option since a tranquilizer affected his wolf as much as it did him. I’d be surprised if the man could tie his own shoe once the drugs kicked in. Denver collapsed by the tree trunk and retrieved a plastic baggie from his pack. Reno had distributed caffeine tablets to use during our shifts, and Denver was eating them like candy.
Another arrow whistled through the air, ricocheting off a branch and landing in the soft earth ten feet ahead. When Denver crawled out of sight, I gripped my gun.
Fog drifted through the woods like layers of smoke from a distant fire, and the smell of wet earth filled my nose. A shadow skulked behind the trees, but I couldn’t be sure if it was friend or foe. My heart slammed against my chest as the shadow darted to another tree even closer. When he held the dart gun and aimed it at Denver, I set my gun on the ledge and fired.
The door slammed shut—either from me jumping or from someone stepping on it. My heart raced as I sat in darkness, listening for sounds of struggle or fighting.
I raised my arms and aimed the gun when the hatch door suddenly flew open.
“Put me out of my misery,” Denver groaned.
I lowered the gun and took a breath. “I almost shot you.”
Denver began singing “You Give Love a Bad Name” by Bon Jovi.
Reno appeared and covered his mouth. “Put a lid on it.”
When he removed his hand, Denver sang, “If you liked it then you should have put a lid on it,” while shaking his butt.
I set the gun on the bench and climbed out of the bunker. “They shot him in the leg with a dart. I think he’s drugged.”
“No, he’s just an ass,” Reno said, snapping his fingers at Denver to be quiet.
Denver’s eyes glazed over, and he stared at his own fingertips.
Wheeler walked by with a dead man draped over his shoulders.
“Where’s he going?”
“Can’t have dead bodies or the scent of blood where we’re hiding. Better to take them downwind.”
“Denver bled on the tree.”
“The fuck!” Denver exclaimed. “Stab me in the back, why don’t you? Whatever happened to sisterhood?”
Reno sighed and faced me. “This is problematic.”
“Knock him out,” I suggested.
Denver’s eyes widened right before he began singing an old rap song by LL Cool J.
“Denny!” Maizy scolded, keeping her voice low as she rushed toward him. “I can hear you all the way across the hill.”
“Babycakes!” He opened his arms wide and stumbled toward her. “Give me a kiss and make it better.”
Maizy slapped him. “Snap out of it before you get us all killed.”
Denver’s eyes dulled with disappointment, and he staggered toward his tree stand. His paralyzed right leg left a trail behind him in the dirt.
“My Peanut doesn’t love me anymore,” he said sullenly.
Maizy rolled her eyes. “What happened?”
I kicked at the silver object below. “Dart gun, but unfortunately for us, the sedative wasn’t strong enough.”
“Do we have anything to put him out?” she asked Reno.
I shook my head. “Not sure if that’s a good idea. He ate a bunch of those caffeine pills.”
Reno’s shoulders sagged. “How many?”
“Have you ever seen that man eat a roll of candy?”
Denver made a melodic sound I recognized as the opening chorus of “Kung Fu Fighting.”
“How many rogues were there?” I asked Reno, ignoring Denver as he executed karate chops while performing his rendition of the classics.
“We spotted two scouts, and a third one came in behind them. That was your target. Nice shot, by the way,” he said with an approving smile.
“Score one for the pregnant lady.”
Maizy desperately tried to quiet Denver, but he continued singing while peeling off his shirt and imitating Bruce Lee. When he tried to kick with his paralyzed leg, it made him look like a beached dolphin. I heard one of the boys laughing in the distance.
“Back to your posts!” Reno shouted.
I searched our surroundings. “Where’s Austin?”
“Helping Wheeler with the bodies.”
“Why didn’t Axel’s men warn us?”
Reno rubbed at some of the dark smudge on his face. “Scouts are harder to catch since they travel in small groups, but they’re not usually skilled fighters. We figured a couple would get through—that’s why Austin split us up. They won’t keep sending their men in small groups; they’re too easy to pick off. When they think they’ve got enough information, they’ll come all at once.”