Chapter 30 – Jennie
Eventually, my bladder really is full, and I have no choice but to empty it before I pee myself. “David, I need to go to the outhouse.”
He points to the corner of the room. “Use the bucket.”
“I can’t use a bucket. Be serious. At least let me use the outhouse. You can come with me, if you insist. You don’t even have to untie my hands, just my feet so I can walk.”
“You promise you won’t try anything funny?”
For the first time since this ordeal began, I feel a surge of optimism. If I can get outside, I have a chance of escaping. “I promise.”
He withdraws a serrated knife from a sheath strapped to his hip and cuts the ropes binding my wrists to the headboard posts.
Immediately, I wince as I sit up and cradle my ravaged wrists in my lap. The skin is rubbed raw, and the drying blood itches. “I don’t suppose you have a first-aid kit, do you?”
“You don’t need it. You’re fine.”
He proceeds to cut the ropes from my ankles, too. They’re in about the same shape as my wrists. The sheet is splotched with blood.
I realize this place already looks like a crime scene, and it’s likely to look a lot worse before it’s over. All I care about is that the people I love don’t get hurt.
“Can I please have my shoes?” I ask as I swing my feet to the wooden floorboards.
“No shoes.”
“I’m not used to walking barefoot outside. The outhouse is in the trees, and I’ll have to walk through the brambles.”
“You’ll be fine,” he says dismissively. “Quit complaining and let’s go. Or, piss in your pants. I don’t care.”
“Fine.”
David drags me over to the kitchen table. He grabs a handgun, and then he directs me to the cabin door, opens it, and pushes me out onto the front porch. As he follows me outside, the door swings shut behind us. Half a dozen rifles poke out from the surrounding trees, pointed right at us.
“Freeze!” Chris yells. “Sheriff’s office! You’re surrounded, Braggart. It’s over. Let her go.”
David hauls me back against him and wraps one arm around my waist to hold me secure. He raises his other hand and points the muzzle of his handgun at my temple.
There’s no cover near the cabin, so the officers are quite a ways back, camouflaged in the trees.
Time slows to a crawl as we stand here on the porch, out in the open, vulnerable from all angles.
“Let her go, Braggart!” Chris yells. “There are six of us, and only one of you. You don’t have a chance.”
“No, there are two of us!” David yells. He shoves the gun hard against my skull, making me cry out.
“Let her go, Dave,” Chris says. “If you care about Jennie at all, you’ll let her walk away.”
“No, you walk away,” David says. “She’s mine. She’s staying with me, so back off.”
My heart is in my throat, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so frightened in my life. I’m not scared for myself, but for Chris.
A moment later, Chris lays down his rifle and walks out from behind a tree, his arms held wide. He’s wearing an armored vest, but he appears unarmed. “Let’s talk about this, Dave,” he says in a good-ol’-boy voice. “Just you and me, buddy. Let’s talk it over.”
David tenses, and his hand gripping the gun starts to shake.
“Chris, no!” I cry. The idiot’s going to get himself killed trying to save me. “Please, Chris!” Hot tears burn my cheeks. “Don’t do this!”
“Stop, or I’ll shoot her,” Dave warns. “I fucking mean it! Stop right there!”
Chris advances slowly, one step at a time as he heads right for us.
“I said stop!” David yells. “I mean it, Sheriff. Stop right there.”
“Make me,” Chris says with a taunting grin on his face. And then he flips David the bird.
“You asshole!” David screams. He aims his gun at Chris and pulls the trigger.
Chris recoils as the bullet strikes him, knocking him back onto the ground.
I scream.
Almost instantly, there’s a deafening crack, and David topples backward, pulling me with him. Struggling to free myself from his grip, I roll over and stare at his head. There’s a hole in the middle of his forehead, and his eyes are staring sightlessly up at the clear blue sky.
All hell breaks loose then. Officers come running out from the woods, along with Jack and Owen. Owen carries me several feet away from David’s body before setting my bare feet down on the grass. Jack and Ricky check to make sure David’s dead.
He’s dead, all right. I could have told them that. When I looked into his eyes as he lay on the porch, I saw absolutely nothing looking back.
Meanwhile, three officers are huddled around Chris’s body, kneeling beside him.
One of them is checking to see if he has a pulse.
One is checking to see if he’s breathing.
Micah comes racing out of the trees holding what looks like a medical bag.
He drops to the ground beside his best friend.
He goes to his knees as he frantically removes the body armor to expose Chris’s chest. He rips open Chris’s blood-soaked uniform shirt to expose his chest and shoulder.
When my knees buckle, Owen catches me. It takes me a second to regain my balance, and then I break free from Owen and run to Chris, falling on the ground beside him. “Chris!”
But of course there’s no answer. He’s unconscious.
Chris, my love, what have you done?
I realize there are a pair of strong hands clutching my shoulders. I glance back to see Ruth crouching behind me, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Several people crowd around Chris. Killian applies pressure to Chris’s right shoulder as Micah bandages the wound.
“He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?” I ask through a throat clogged with tears. But no one answers me. I grab one of Chris’s hands, which feels unusually cold. “Please tell me he’s going to be all right.” Because I can’t live with the alternative.
I glance around at everyone standing in the clearing. Their expressions are glum as they watch Micah administer first aid. He’s a former Army medic. If anyone can help Chris, he can.
My heart is shredded. Chris! He’s my best friend, my lover, my everything. He can’t leave me now, not when we’ve come so far. We’re supposed to have a future together. It’s not fair.
“It should have been me,” I murmur, although I don’t think anyone is paying me any attention. “It should have been me.”
Ruth pulls me into her arms and rocks me. “Shush, honey.” She strokes my hair. “Shush.”
She doesn’t even lie and tell me everything’s going to be okay.