by Katie Ruggle
Opening the knife with trembling fingers, she plowed through the snow toward the two men.
Logan’s voice went from mocking to cold in an instant. “Enough of this. Kill her.”
The man standing behind Logan aimed his rifle. Her whole body shook, but she kept plowing forward. With each step, she sank in over her knees, but she continued her charge, bracing for the impact of a bullet ripping through her. At least it would give Otto a few more seconds to recover. If he survived, that was all that mattered.
There was a roar behind her, and the amusement disappeared from the men’s faces. Xena was a blur as she raced toward the mercenaries, and the one holding the rifle shifted his aim to the dog.
“No!” Sarah yelled. There was nothing she could do, no way to reach the gunman in time before he could squeeze the trigger. Gripping the blade of the knife, she cocked back and threw it as hard as she could. The knife flew through the air, end over end, and sank deep into the side of the gunman’s neck. He screamed, dropping the gun as his hands reached for the knife, scrabbling to pull out the blade. Blood poured from the wound, and Sarah couldn’t look away, not until the man toppled off the seat and fell into the snow, where he lay unmoving.
“You’re still dead, bitch,” Logan snarled, lunging for the fallen rifle. As he stood, swinging the barrel toward Sarah, Xena hit him square in the chest. With a shout, he fell onto his back in the snow. Xena stood on top of him, snarling in his face. His gaze locked with the dog’s as he slowly raised the rifle he still gripped in his right hand.
Sarah felt rage building in her chest, expanding until it was almost impossible to breathe. It was one thing for Logan to terrorize her, but she was not going to allow him to hurt Otto or Xena. With a wordless yell, she charged. Grabbing the rifle with both hands, she pushed it down, using her body weight to pin his arm—and the gun—to the snowy ground. Logan cursed, and Xena growled, snapping at his face with her teeth bared.
Lifting the gun, Sarah slammed it down again, over and over as Logan swore and screamed until his fingers finally loosened. She yanked the rifle out of his grip, slightly startled when it came free. Stumbling back a step, she quickly regained her balance and raised the butt of the rifle to her shoulder. She’d never held one before, and it felt strange in her grip, too long and bulky.
Logan gave her a grin that was mostly a snarl. “You going to shoot me, princess?” He spat out the last word. “You don’t have the balls.”
Her whole body trembled so severely that she knew he could see her shake, and she hated that he knew she was terrified. Her finger found the trigger guard and slipped inside.
“Put the gun down,” he snapped, and she jerked back, startled by the loud command. Xena growled and barked sharply in his face, but he didn’t look away from Sarah. His smirk was tense. “It won’t work anyway. The safety’s on.”
Her gaze flickered down at the gun, just for a fraction of a second before she caught herself falling for Logan’s bluff. It was long enough, though. He struck, wrapping his hands around Xena’s thick neck and rolling them to the side.
“No!” Sarah shouted, knowing he would kill Xena without any remorse. The dog yelped, and Sarah felt a calm settle over her. Her hands stopped shaking; she knew what she needed to do. Aiming the gun at the back of Logan’s head, she pulled the trigger.
The recoil jolted her, but it was the realization of what she’d just done that made her stumble back. The smell of smoke filled her nose, and her ears rang from the loud bang. She forced herself to look at Logan. She needed to know if she’d missed, if he was still a threat.
Instantly, she looked away. He wasn’t a threat anymore.
Xena scrambled to her feet and ran to her, pressing her trembling body against Sarah’s legs. Carefully, Sarah lowered the gun, placing it next to her on top of a drift. The rifle sank and the snow sifted on top of it, making it almost seem like it had disappeared.
“What?” At Otto’s voice, Sarah looked behind her to see him struggling to sit up. She fought her way through the snow toward him, pausing briefly to turn off the snowmobile. Silence settled over them, broken only by her rough breathing. She tried to calm down as she reached Otto. Her heaving breaths were too close to sobs, and this wasn’t the time to cry.
“Otto?” Crouching next to him, she saw how much blood streaked the side of his face, and her stomach lurched.
“What’s…?” he slurred, blinking at her like he was having trouble focusing.
Sarah fought down panic. How could she get an injured Otto back to the bunker? She pushed the thought away. One thing at a time, she thought, trying to remember the little she’d read about first aid. First, stop the bleeding.
It was a relief to have something to focus on, to have a plan, no matter how basic. Gently holding his face, she tilted it so that she could see the cut more clearly. In the dim light, the blood looked black, and it seemed like it was everywhere. She swiped at the area below the cut with her glove, but the material wasn’t absorbent, so it just smeared blood across his forehead.
She took a mental inventory of what she was wearing, trying to figure out what would work best for bandaging, and plopped down in the snow. As she yanked off one of her boots, Otto stared at her, swaying a little.
“Wha…what are you doing?” He sounded a little less drunk, although Sarah knew that could’ve just been wishful thinking on her part. She pulled off one of her knee-high wool socks and held it up.
“Bandage,” she said, tugging her boot back on. Just in that short time she’d had it off, the cold had darted through her remaining sock and chilled her foot.
“Bandage?” He frowned. “Are you hurt?”
“It’s for you.” Her voice shook slightly as she reached to wrap the sock around his head and tie it tightly in the back. It covered most of the still-oozing gash, and she hoped it would at least slow the bleeding until they could get back to the bunker where someone a lot more competent than she was could look at it. “Sorry. It’s probably not the most sanitary.”
He smiled and gave her forearm a squeeze. “It’s fine. Help me up?”
With Sarah’s assistance, he managed to haul himself to his feet. Once there, he swayed slightly, and she held her hands out as if to catch him. His jaw muscles tightening, he managed to steady himself. Although he still looked dazed, his eyes gradually cleared, and he seemed to take in the situation without needing an explanation. He looked furious and grim and sad, but all he said was a simple “Good job, Sarah.”
She blinked at him, shock and residual horror making everything hazy. “Thank you?” Relief that Otto was awake and standing—that she was alive and that Xena was unhurt—rushed through her, making her voice break.
Otto cupped her face in his hands and looked at her carefully. “You okay?”
It took her a moment to answer. “Yes. You’re okay, and Xena’s okay. That means I’m okay.” When he continued to eye her, she covered his hands with her own. “I mean it, Otto. I did what I needed to do. It’s done.”
After another long look, he seemed to accept that. “Let’s go.” Otto’s hand on her back was gentle. Sarah leaned into the contact, and Xena pressed into her side. She’d seen and done some terrible things over the past twelve hours, but Otto and Xena were worth it. For them, she’d do anything.
Chapter 22
Otto started the snowmobile.
“C’mon, Xena,” Sarah said, scooting back to clear a spot on the seat. “Up.”
The dog tucked her tail, looking unhappy, but she obediently hopped onto the sled. Sarah wrapped her arms around Xena as Otto slowly accelerated, turning the sled around and heading back toward Gordon’s house. He kept the snowmobile’s speed low, for which Sarah was grateful. Without the adrenaline of the chase, the wind whipping by them felt even colder.
It seemed like an eternity before the workshop and house came into view. Sarah had never be
en so tired in her entire life. Her head kept bobbing forward, only the cold and the fear of toppling off the side of the sled keeping her in place. Otto slowed as they approached the place where Blessard had fallen. Sarah was torn. Even though she knew they couldn’t leave him out here to freeze to death, he’d betrayed them. She didn’t want to even look at the lieutenant, much less drag him into the bunker with them.
Sarah didn’t hear the sound at first, with the buzz of the snowmobile filling her head. Gradually, though, it got louder—the thump-thump she was going to hear in her nightmares. Her arms tightened around Xena as she looked up, scanning the sky, terrified of what she would see.
“Otto!” she yelled when she spotted the bright lights of the helicopter hovering above them.
With a terse nod, he sped up and turned south. Hurry, hurry, hurry! Sarah thought desperately. If the helicopter would only follow them, then Gordon’s property might not be bombed. The bunker would likely withstand a blast, just like Otto’s had, but the workshop certainly would not. She clutched Xena tighter, willing the snowmobile to go faster.
Wind whipped around them as the helicopter flew lower. Otto wove back and forth, heading across the yard and toward a wooded area east of the house. There was a loud, fast thump-thump-thump, and the snow kicked up around them.
Someone in the helicopter was shooting at them.
As the realization hit, Sarah hunched over Xena, trying to cover as much of the dog as possible. Otto turned abruptly, swerving and dodging in no discernable pattern. The small part of Sarah’s brain that hadn’t been consumed by terror assumed that Otto was in defensive mode now, and evading bullets was his only goal.
Sarah peered around Xena and Otto, blinking as wind and kicked-up snow immediately made her eyes water. If they could get into the trees, that would provide some cover. They could cross the property and ram through the boundary fence, leading the helicopter away. It wasn’t a good long-term plan, but it would keep everyone safe for a little while, at least.
There was a movement in front of them, catching Sarah’s attention. The door of the outhouse bunker entrance swung open. No! Go back inside! her brain screamed as a tiny figure appeared. There was only one person that small who’d been in the bunker.
Dee.
Dread and horror squeezed all the air out of Sarah’s lungs as she saw Dee walk out of safety and into danger, holding something bulky in her arms.
“Dee!” Sarah screamed, not knowing if she was yelling at the little girl or warning Otto. Dee didn’t react, but Otto shouted, “I see her!”
He turned, hard to the right, making a tight half-circle and flying back the way they’d come. Instead of heading toward the workshop, he steered the sled back to the open expanse they’d just left—away from Dee. He zigzagged back and forth, trying to dodge the bullets, and Sarah leaned into each turn. A strange calmness settled over her. There was no way to get out of this now. She couldn’t throw a knife at a helicopter and bring it down.
The helicopter circled around in front of them, the light shining directly on them like a spotlight. It felt like they were in the laser sights of a gun. There was no way that the shooter could miss them now, no matter how many turns Otto made. At least they’d led Aaron’s men away from Dee and the animals and the rest of the people in the bunker. Hopefully, they’d be okay.
Something flew over them, barely clearing their heads. Otto stiffened, and Sarah stared at it—whatever it was. It appeared to be a tiny plane, but that didn’t make any sense. Sarah was sure that her fear and the dim lighting was messing with her perception.
“What is that?” Sarah yelled.
“Not sure!” Otto didn’t slow but continued driving toward the object. It rose higher, flying directly toward the huge black beast of a helicopter. Otto banked left, turning again, giving them a tiny bit of breathing room before the helicopter caught up with them again. The tiny plane-like object trailed behind. When Otto steered right, the helicopter followed. The small flying object lifted higher, allowing the bulk of the helicopter to pass under it. As soon as it passed the main rotor, the little plane darted down—right into the tail rotor. There was a loud clattering sound, like a bolt caught in a high-powered fan, and Sarah hunched instinctively again. The helicopter sounded different, and she risked a look up and back. The remains of the tiny plane fell from the tail, where the rotor hung, useless and mangled. The helicopter started to turn, spinning in place like a top. It swung in crazy loops, heading toward the ground—and getting closer and closer to them.
The wind whipped the snow into a blinding blizzard around them. Sarah squeezed her eyes closed and tucked her head down. The snowmobile shot forward.
“Hold on!” Otto shouted, his words barely audible over the noise. The helicopter sounded so close that Sarah didn’t want to look. She knew it was almost on top of them.
The sled flew, skimming over the snow so fast it felt like they were hovering above the ground. Sarah turned her head. She had to look. It had to be worse to feel the helicopter coming down on top of them without seeing it.
It wasn’t. Seeing the huge shape spinning over them, its main rotor moving so fast it was just a circular blur, was horribly, indescribably worse than just imagining it. Sarah screamed—at least, she thought she did, sound lost over the roaring wind and the engine and the thumping blades.
The helicopter spun in drunken circles right above them, dropping lower and lower until Sarah ducked, feeling as if it was close enough to graze the top of her head. The noise was terrible—shrieking and groaning and thumping—as the machine tumbled toward the earth.
The snowmobile went faster and faster, flying weightlessly across the snow as the helicopter turned in endless circles right above their heads. It tipped, the tail touching down first, hitting the ground right behind them with a boom loud enough to rival the bombs. It swiveled on the ground, whipping around toward them as it toppled over onto its side, the main rotor digging into the earth as it tried to keep spinning. The helicopter turned, the broken tail swinging toward them like a shattered baseball bat, and Sarah screamed again, not able to look away. The snowmobile engine shrieked as Otto pushed it to its highest speed.
They flew. There was no other way for Sarah to describe it. Like a stone from a slingshot, they crested a small hill and rocketed through the air, snow flying around them. The runners hit the ground with a bounce, and the sled shot forward again, earthbound this time.
Gasping for breath, Sarah looked at Otto’s back and Xena and her own snow-covered self. How could they still be alive? How were they not crushed by the downed helicopter? It had been so close to them—how had it missed?
Twisting around, Sarah looked behind her at the wreckage. The helicopter was on its side, the main rotor detached, flung far across the yard.
“Otto!” Sarah shouted, delight rising in her as she realized that they’d survived. Death had been so close, so sure, but they’d somehow managed to outrun it. Keeping one arm locked around Xena, she grabbed a handful of Otto’s coat. “You’re amazing! I love you and your driving skills!”
He slowed, looping around so that they were facing the downed helicopter. As soon as they stopped, Sarah kneeled on the seat, reaching over Xena to hug Otto’s shoulders. He wrapped his arms over hers.
“I can’t believe it,” she cried, staring at the wreckage as she squeezed him tighter. “Did I mention that you’re an excellent driver?”
His laugh boomed out, shaking his body, and Sarah clung to him, basking in the feel of him, of his joy and sheer alive-ness. So many times, she’d thought they were going to die, but they’d made it through. All of them had survived the horrible, endless night.
The helicopter cabin opened, and someone stumbled out, slogging through the snow toward them. Another person was slumped over the controls, either unconscious or dead. As Sarah watched, she saw the man who’d emerged from the helicopter reach into his j
acket and pull out a pistol.
“Gun!” Sarah shouted, releasing Otto. She sat back down and wrapped her arms around Xena. As Otto sped up, Sarah twisted around to look at the man. He stopped and lifted the gun, and Sarah could finally see him clearly.
It was Aaron.
Blood streaked his face, but he was smiling as he aimed. Her own brother was about to shoot her with a smile on his face. Otto pushed down on the accelerator, but it wasn’t going to be fast enough. Sarah knew they were still within range of Aaron’s gun. He loved target shooting, and he was good at it. Her brother was not going to miss. Sarah felt a shot of pure fury jolt through her. She and Otto had gone through so much, survived despite the craziest odds, and now she was going to die because her brother was a dickhead?
Oh, hell, no.
“Fuck you, Aaron!” she yelled. “Fuck you and your stupid rules and your stupid fucking face! I’m going to live! I’m going to live, and it’s not going to be with you in your prison!”
That startled him. She saw his head jerk up before he took aim again. It wasn’t enough of a hesitation, though. They were still too close to the crazy man with a gun—and good aim.
There was a roar. Sarah didn’t know how else to describe it. It sounded like a whole bunch of very angry people, all shouting together. When she saw the crowd stampeding toward Aaron, Sarah laughed with amazement and delight. That was, in fact, exactly what it was.
Jules and Theo and Viggy, Hugh and Lexi and Grace—with her crossbow—were rushing toward Aaron. Mort and Gordon and Steve were also there, and Ty and Tio and Sam and even little Dee bringing up the rear. They trampled through the snow, the dogs surging ahead, all three barking with the excitement of the chase.
“Look!” she yelled to Otto, slapping him excitedly on the shoulder. “It’s the villagers! And they’re pissed!”
Otto slowed the sled abruptly, circling around to head back toward the downed helicopter. Aaron, his face switching from smug glee to horror, turned and started to run across the snowy field. The crowd of people followed, quickly closing the distance between them and a fleeing Aaron.