Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits

by Felicia Watson

  Greg was watching me even more closely. “Niall tried to save you when I shot you. He stayed around when I thought he’d be racing out of here to save himself.”

  I mustered up the hatred that had festered inside me for months and I glared at Niall. “So he’s a fucking fool. So he has some kind of death wish. Still doesn’t mean he can have my ass.”

  “Bastard,” Niall hissed. He hadn’t moved, but his eyes were dark, boiling pools, and they were fixed on me.

  “Shut up, Sutherland.” Greg’s gun wavered back around to cover Niall.

  But he hadn’t told me to shut up. “Look, Greg. I understand you, believe me. You and Kes. You’ve been pushed around and excluded all your life, and all you wanted to do was set the pair of you up for a reasonable future together. You see, I’ve never fit in either. I didn’t know my dad, like you. I left home early, had to make my own way. And it’s no better at work. They all tolerate me, but they’ve never treated me as an equal. Niall was fun for a while, but even he never respected me.” I let the slightest of sobs catch in my throat. “You were right, Greg. I’ve fucked up, but I was never given any chance to redeem myself. I let them down, and now they all despise me.” I stepped away from Sheri to stand closer to him. “I’m well out of it. Fucking Project Team! I hate them all. They used me like they used you, Greg. Like people used Kes. Sounds like your little plans for revenge have come none too soon.” Greg was looking confused, and I kept talking. “That was what your brother thought, you know. He said as much to me before Niall came bearing down on him—”

  “What? He said…?” Greg’s face had blanched, and his pupils were dangerously dilated. “Did he speak to you?”

  “Whatever.” I shrugged. I settled carefully on the balls of my feet. I risked a glance at Sheri and flickered my eyes to the door and back. She’d shifted a little so that she was on the end of the couch nearest to the door. I didn’t know if she were taking any notice of me. I also didn’t look at Niall, even out of the corner of my eye. It was probably best I didn’t, at this very moment. “I mean, of course he did, obviously Simon mentioned it somewhere along the way, didn’t he?”

  “No!” Greg’s cry was anguished. “He never said a fucking word about it. There was nothing on e-mail, or in anyone’s notes.”

  There was a slight hiss from the table, not loud enough that anyone was distracted.

  “What did he say to you?” Greg came right up toward me, brandishing his gun. “Tell me what the fuck he said! Did he call for me? What did he say about me?”

  The hissing noise was louder now, accompanied by a crackle of static. Greg whirled quickly back toward the table to see Niall bending down, as if to touch the radio.

  “Back off!” Greg shouted.

  “Tanner, stop him!” Niall cried. “We must answer that call. It’ll be from Judith, telling us what the plan is.” He reached for the mike, and he was nearer to the table than Greg. But Greg had the gun.

  We both moved at the same time. Just as Niall got to the table, I flung myself at him, knocking him away. Greg pointed the gun at us, but it was difficult for him to establish any kind of target with both of us flailing about in front of him. We were shouting together too.

  “Niall, leave it! You can’t do anything now—”

  “Tanner, you’re scum, you hear me? All you had to do was hold him back while I took the call. Which fucking team are you playing for now, anyway?”

  “Mine! I’m on my own fucking team. The team that’s going to save my ass!”

  “Bastard! Selfish, fucking bastard!”

  We wrestled fairly uselessly for a moment or so, grunting and swearing at each other. Niall slammed me against the wall, his lean body moving swiftly across Greg’s line of vision. I saw Sheri staring at us, amazed. She was up on her feet, and I really wanted to see her moving toward the door.

  The radio hissed again, and I saw Greg’s eyes glint with a sudden sly light. “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled, and for a second we both paused, panting, hands gripping each other’s clothing. “Guess I’ll take that call. Maybe I’ll enjoy knowing where the rest of your colleagues are and what they’re planning.”

  “No. Don’t you dare!” Niall’s expression was furious.

  But Greg reached smugly for the radio, planting his hand confidently on it as he looked for the microphone.

  And then he screamed.

  We both flinched at the loud, unearthly wail that sounded like it came from his very gut. His eyes grew unnaturally large and his legs shook, jerking up and down at the knee. His arm went rigid where he touched the radio, his hand clasped to it as if glued. The set rattled on the table, and Greg’s body started to fall back. The gun clattered to the floor as his free hand reached out helplessly for some salvation.

  Neither of us moved to offer any.

  Sheri was screaming, too, by now. She looked terrified that Greg would fall on her.

  “Don’t touch him!” I yelled to her. “The current’s running from the radio through him. Move away! Niall, get the gun.”

  It was all a blur: Greg on his way down, Niall diving to the floor to grab the gun. I was twisting, trying to regain my footing, trying to get Sheri out of the way. I could smell burning, of both wiring and flesh, and there was a loud hum in my ears as the radio’s remaining static crackled and spat at us all.

  Timing was critical.

  Greg’s shocked body was still shuddering from the contact with the radio, his legs stumbling erratically toward the couch. Niall was on the floor, but had the gun in his hand and had him covered. But Sheri was sprawled awkwardly half on, half off the couch, her body about to get really tangled up with Greg’s. Why the hell hadn’t she moved out of the way? Obviously she was too scared, too shocked, too bruised. I was desperate by now. I launched myself across the room toward her, knowing Niall couldn’t do anything to Greg until she was clear.

  Greg crashed down on to the couch, but as he fell, his free hand grabbed out at Sheri. He couldn’t speak or aim; it was a reflexive movement. Sheri cried out and wriggled out of range of his grasp, but her body thudded against me, halting my headlong dash. We both tumbled to the floor. I heard Niall curse in the background, and the pain in my hip told me I’d caught the edge of the table as I went down. The radio rocked, its cord popped out from the wall, and it also fell. The heavy, awkwardly shaped casing thudded into Niall’s legs as he crouched beside the table. I heard him yell in pain.

  We were all going down; we’d lost control of the scene. We rolled on the floor, a mess of expelled breath and twisted limbs. I wrenched my head around, trying to see who was where.

  Greg lay on his back on the couch, his mouth open, his voice making incoherent sounds. He looked terrified, shocked, and presumably very, very angry. The gun had slipped out of Niall’s grasp when the radio hit him, and he was scrambling to retrieve it. I was doubled up with the agony in my hip, and my vision was clouded with involuntary tears of pain.

  But I had no trouble seeing the flash of a blade; Greg had drawn his knife. At the same time, I saw Sheri’s slim body move across him, her cries high and hysterical. I didn’t know what she was trying to do, but it looked like she was trying to wrestle the knife out of his hand. Niall was also scrabbling back up on his feet, though I couldn’t see if he had the gun. They both converged on Greg, even as I tried to pull myself up to support them.

  There was a cry of pain, and Sheri wheeled away from her attacker, clutching her hand. I could see blood on her palm. I also now had a clear view of Niall and Greg. Sheri had bumped into Niall and knocked him off balance; he fell back on one knee on to the jumbled cushions of the couch. Greg was still shaking and his eyes didn’t look in focus, but he was obviously alert enough. Turning toward Niall, he grabbed Niall’s shoulder and thrust his knife up toward his chest.

  I was up off the floor in a second. I don’t remember directing my limbs; they just acted of their own volition. I roared with some amazing sound that didn’t even sound human, and I threw my whole b
ody at Greg, my long legs carrying me across the narrow width of the trailer like a falling tree.

  Time suspended, just for that moment. I saw Niall turn to me with that look on his face—shit, that was only a memory, surely, wasn’t it? —and I had the memory of a boy crying. I saw the slice of a blade through clothing and into flesh. I smelled the fresh, sickly thickness of drawn blood….

  Niall!

  I snatched back my mind from both the past and the future. I gripped Greg’s wrist with a strength I didn’t know I had, wrenching it back and away from Niall. My eyes misted over, and I felt the sudden ache of new pain in my injured arm. I heard Niall’s cry, and it sounded anguished. I couldn’t see the knife, couldn’t make enough sense of it all. Had I been too slow? Had it happened all over again?

  I heard the barking of a dog, a sharp, shocking noise against the human cries.

  Then my limbs seemed to lose control like the strings had been cut on them. I sank to the floor amongst a jumble of bodies and furniture and angry exclamations. I saw Greg’s legs take him in a stumbling path toward the door; I saw Sheri lying on the floor on the other side of the room, sobbing.

  “Fuck!” It was Niall’s voice, I’d never been so glad to hear him cursing in my life. It meant he was alive, didn’t it? “He’s getting away!”

  The trailer door burst open, letting in a gust of cold air and a hissing wave of rain. And then the silhouette of Greg’s body hurtled outward into the night.

  NIALL SHOUTED something incoherent.

  I hadn’t passed out. When this was over, I thought crazily, I’d wonder whether I was pleased about that, or whether it would have been a blessed relief, because everything hurt like fuck all over again. But not now. Not now.

  The coil of rope that Greg had used on Sheri was lying on the floor, within my reach. I grabbed it, and I slung it as hard as I could at his retreating feet. It was a poor throw, though he was moving erratically, like his own legs weren’t responding well. I think I caught at his ankles because I heard him grunt. But I knew it wasn’t enough to stop him. I knew we’d lost him. I was aware of Niall’s body over by the couch, but he wasn’t moving much, and I really didn’t want to think about why that might be.

  I had to get up somehow, even though nothing on or in my body seemed to be working properly. I had to stop Greg. Our guns were outside, under the trailers. He’d be armed again in seconds, while we were still groveling about on the floor and Sheri was still vulnerable—

  Then suddenly he vanished from view. It was really odd. He gave a cry of furious surprise and his whole body sank beneath the doorway. Had he dropped down for some reason? Had he fallen? All I could hear was the rain and the wheezing of my own breath. I lay on my belly, fighting down waves of pain and nausea, and then I dragged myself—far too slowly—over to the open doorway and peered out through the rain and darkness.

  Amazing things were happening outside in the previously deserted trailer park. There were way more shapes than Greg’s, swirling in and out of the shadows. I heard the sound of running and some loud, shouted orders in a woman’s voice. I couldn’t really compute that one. My vision was still blurred, and my brain felt as if it had been hit by a baseball bat, then folded into the size of the ball and squashed into a plastic souvenir cup.

  I thought I saw a silhouette that couldn’t have been anyone but Junk, and then I definitely saw Greg’s blond head rear back up. Everything was lit eerily by the dim lamp light that was spilling out from inside my trailer, and then distorted by the rain. I couldn’t judge the distances. I tried to raise myself on an arm that felt increasingly like it was made of marshmallow to shout out a warning to the big guy.

  Seems I didn’t need to.

  In a whirl of shadowy limbs, a slim figure leaped up and shot a straight leg out at Greg, connecting decisively with his gut. Greg doubled up, grunting with pain. I saw his knife flash, but it spun out of his hand and away, flying in a glittering arc in the wet darkness. I heard a muted cheer, but that may have just been a symptom of my delirium. The shadowy figure straightened, then dropped onto Greg’s hunched figure again, and I didn’t mistake the loud scream of pain from him that time.

  I heard only one coherent word from him—“Bitch!”—and then he collapsed completely onto the rough ground with a thud, like a sack of wet sand.

  Someone turned on some lights in another nearby trailer—it may even have been Junk’s own place—and the area outside my door was suddenly brightly illuminated.

  I could see Greg lying face down in the dirt, one of his legs twisted awkwardly under him. Several other figures stood by him. I recognized Phil and Zac and a couple of Junk’s older sons. Junk himself hovered by his trailer, his face turned toward my door, obviously looking for Sheri. For a second, all the participants seemed cast in gray stone, their silhouettes frozen around the prone body.

  Then Greg made the smallest of movements. Every single person whirled around to look down at him. A woman stepped out from behind Junk; she’d been unintentionally hidden from my view. She moved with both grace and determination, and was clothed in tight-fitting black shirt and pants. Her hair was soaked and clinging to the shape of her head, but I knew it would be blonde when dry. Her breath was steady, and she took up a fighting stance as if she were born to it.

  Her appearance was accompanied by a snap of Junk’s fingers and the slick crunch of guns being cocked, all at once. Several other figures stepped forward, and I heard the snap of many switchblades. Greg had every inch of his body covered by assorted weaponry. There were guys in a circle around him that I’d never seen before on the site; guys who had tattooed muscles where I still had puppy fat; guys that’d make me re-think my life insurance many times over before I disagreed with them.

  Dylan trotted slowly forward, his tongue hanging out, and he placed his front paw on Greg’s neck. His coat was shining and dripping with the rain, but his eyes were as bright as usual. He growled, and the body fell very still.

  Judith—for of course it was she—turned to look at me. Her smile was very grim, but unmistakably full of triumph.

  And then I passed out.

  Thursday 01:50

  I FELT a great lassitude in my limbs. I didn’t really want to wake up. Did I?

  Sheri’s voice rattled in my ear, demanding attention. I recognized the tone. It had the soft lightness of a young woman, but the vocabulary of the family she lived with.

  “Mac, are you okay? Mac! Tanner! Whatever your name is. Speak to me, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Watch your language, girl.” That was too low a pitch for her, unless she’d been taking testosterone for recreational purposes. Must’ve been Junk.

  Sheri snapped back, but her voice sounded shaky. “I’ll fucking watch my language when he answers me.”

  My eyelids felt as heavy as if the Statue of Liberty and her sister were perched on top of them, but I slowly dragged them open. I was still in my trailer, now laid back in a half-slumped, half-sitting position on my less than comfortable couch. I doubted I’d be keeping this crappy piece of furniture much longer, despite whatever sentimental value it might have gained over the last few days. It had seen too much action, of a variety of kinds.

  “Sheri?” I grunted. “You okay?”

  “Shit, Mac.” Her face swam into view, her dark red hair drawn back scrappily from a pale, blotched face. She didn’t look quite as carefully groomed as usual. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she didn’t seem to notice them. There was a small cut on her lip, and she nursed her hand to her chest. It was wrapped in a very efficient bandage.

  “You look good.” I smiled.

  “Good?” Her expression struggled between distress, relief, and insult. “What the fuck do you mean, spouting crap like that, after all that’s happened, when we nearly got killed, and I must look such a mess.”

  “Just like I said.” I sighed. “Girls. Always crying and howling.”

  “You bastard.” She was frowning and smiling at the same time. It was an o
dd kind of combination. “You saved me, Mac. You saved my life!”

  I tried to wave such nonsense away. I couldn’t really take the credit, could I? I could hear shouting outside the trailer and the throaty sound of powerful vehicles. Zac’s birds were screeching loudly in the distance. I couldn’t hear the rain on my roof, so maybe it’d eased off, but the park sounded like it was humming with the excitement of recent events. A few neighbors poked their heads in at my door, so obviously people were moving back into their homes.

  Inside the trailer, there was a small knot of visitors by the alcove to the kitchen. I started to get up, but Junk’s head whipped around from the middle of a muttered conversation with Phil. He glared at me.

  “Get the fuck back down on that couch,” he growled.

  It looked like—yet again—there were people around me who insisted I take it easy. Lying injured on the couch was getting to be a bit of a bad habit. But I sank back gratefully. The throb of pain in my arm had woken up at the same time as me.

  Phil had followed Junk’s look, and everyone saw I was awake again. There was a buzz of new sound, and Judith pushed her way to the front of the group. I was amused to see the big guys parting ways to either side of her.

  “So glad to see you.” I grinned. “Boss.”

  Judith smiled back. She looked tired and drawn, but as fierce in her defense of her Team as ever. Just a little tousled, where she’d obviously dried her hair with one of my less-than-luxurious towels.

  Junk stood behind her, almost protectively. He looked a little dazed by her. Join the club.

  “You really got him, Judith,” I said, my voice dropping to a warmer tone. “I don’t know why you came over here when I told you that Niall and I had it all under control, but I’m damned glad you did.”

  She raised a fine eyebrow. “I said we’d be over to back you up, Tanner. Last time I checked, it was my job to give the orders, not yours. I’m only sorry it took us so long to get here. We only arrived at the end of it all, as Greg was making a break for it.”