38
Mandy careened to a halt. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Bloodred snow, churned-up debris, and one lone figure, propped awkwardly against a dark fir tree, clutching his stomach.
“Adams!” She slid her way over as he groaned in response.
They were fifteen feet from the cave entrance. She glanced around quickly, also noting what she didn’t see—signs of other individuals, but even more troubling, Adams’s rifle.
“What happened?” She dropped to one knee beside him, Glock at the ready as she performed a quick assessment.
“That stuffy historian guy—”
“Mason Carhart?”
“Moves quick for an old dude. Shoots even faster.”
“I knew it! If I’d just figured it out sooner…” She unzipped Adams’s jacket to check out the damage beneath. Sure enough, red blossomed across his white thermal shirt. “How bad?”
Adams chuckled roughly. “Well, I have felt worse. But I don’t think they can amputate my torso, so, there’s that.”
“I’ve called for backup, but in these conditions, it’ll take a bit. Okay, we need to get you stabilized and out of this weather. Given I have absolutely no outdoor gear with me, I’m thinking cave. I’ll get you tucked inside—”
“No.” Adams grabbed her hand. “Mason…attacked Theo and Raquel. Both hurt. Only reason he didn’t finish me…was to go after them.”
“Where?”
“Down. Guy tagged me first, but I winged him. Fucker…took the rifle.” Another groan.
Mandy couldn’t help herself. “Isla told me everything. If what she’s saying is true, I’m sorry…William.”
“Makes it all kinda fitting, don’t you think?” He gave her a bleary look. “Back where it all started. Now I just gotta crawl a few feet and I can die with them as well. Maybe…maybe that’s the way it was always meant to be.”
“Don’t even think it.” She got busy in the snow. “Your family was close. Everyone knew that. That one of you survived would make the others happy.”
“Can’t think…can’t process. Not yet.”
“Hey, Adams, what’s your favorite color—”
“Why— Son of a bitch!”
Mandy slapped a packed snowball into his wound, then grabbed the scarf from her neck and wrapped it tight around his waist. “That’ll slow the bleeding.
If I had to guess, Isla will appear shortly.
Before you scream at her to go away, remember she already patched you up once.
I’d accept a second round of assistance for old times’ sake. ”
“I can’t believe…I just can’t believe…”
“And yet.” Mandy took his hand. “On some level, you didn’t need to hear the words to know they were true.”
He didn’t speak. She could see the answer in the first tear tracing down his cheek.
“Hold tight. I’ll be back.”
Mandy squeezed his hand one more time, then raced downhill.
The snow both helped and hurt. Helped because she could make out a trail as she descended through the woods. Hurt, because the heavy flakes were filling in footprints and obscuring blood droplets almost as fast as she spied them.
She slipped, sliding down several feet until she nearly collided with a tree. Just got her feet beneath her before repeating the same pattern. Her heavy patrol boots were shit in these conditions. She needed microspikes, snowshoes, hell, a toboggan.
She emerged from the tree line into the open meadow just in time to see a lone figure staggering through the snow drifts. Way too far ahead for her to make out individual features, but given the rifle in hand, she was guessing it was Mason.
Mandy shouted his name, but the wall of heavy flakes muffled the sound.
At this distance, her pistol shooting skills were useless. She debated firing off a warning anyway, but given Mason could turn on her with a hunting rifle, that didn’t seem wise.
Which left her with trying to close the gap. Could she wade through the nearly knee-deep conditions faster than a septuagenarian? After twenty yards of gasping and heaving, she wasn’t convinced.
WWMFD, WWMFD, WWMFD, she thought bitterly. What would my father do?
He’d fucking get the job done. He’d push through hell and high water to protect his town and save his neighbors. Which were now her town and her neighbors, goddammit.
“Move, move, move!” She was screaming at herself. She didn’t care. Rant, rage, curse, just as long as she lurched forward one more lung-bursting step.
Straight ahead, Mason came to a full stop. As she watched, he raised his weapon. Positioned the buttstock against his shoulder pocket. Started zeroing in on a target.
He’d finally caught up with the Collinses.
Time was up. To hell with the risk to herself, Mandy pointed her Glock and squeezed off three rapid shots. Probably nowhere close to hitting him in these conditions.
But it did get him to twist around and aim in her direction.
Mandy threw herself to the side, just as the rifle cracked. And the snow exploded not in front of her, but beside Mason, as a snarling dog launched itself through the air, latched its jaws on Mason’s extended arm, and took the screaming man down with him.