Confusion spread through her brain, painting over something she’d been so sure about just a moment ago. She rolled to her back and stared up, the sensation of becoming liquid spreading through her. Above, the stars became brighter and blurred into tiny lines. They stretched until they connected, crisscrossing the dark like stitches on a patchwork quilt. She heard gurgling and rasping, but she couldn’t tell from where. The sounds faded, and the darkness turned to white.
EDDIE Chapter 24 | 8:15 PM, December 1, 2006 | Tarson, Georgia
THE WOMAN CRUMPLED TO THE ground, writhing. Eddie dropped the gun. His hands shook.
She’d jumped in front of the bullet, hadn’t she? Or had she tripped? Taken off in a blind panic? It didn’t matter… he’d shot her.
Eddie lifted his gaze. The man he’d intended to shoot looked directly back. Between the dark and the hood drawn over his head, all that was visible of the man was his nose and the outline of his chin. The woman gasped, the sound of it liquid, and broke the spell that had settled like stagnant water, too warm and glistening with oil from decay.
Eddie stepped toward her. The man reached for something in his pack. Eddie snatched the empty gun from the ground and trained it on the man’s chest.
“Stay where you are!” Eddie shouted. “Help! We need help!” he screamed louder, tilting his mouth skyward in hopes the sound would carry farther. They had to be two miles from the main parking lot, maybe more. There’s no way anyone would be able to hear them. The man opened his mouth, closed it, then turned and fled downhill.
Eddie rushed to the woman’s side. Her breaths came in wisps. Her eyes were unfocused and glistening with panic.
“You’re all right. You gonna be all right,” Eddie said. He pulled the rope from around her neck and took the gag out of her mouth. She cried a little girl’s cry, small and breaking. He cradled her head in one leathered hand and felt for the bullet hole with the other. Blood spurted from a hole high on her chest. He pushed his palm against it, hoping to slow it down. If she kept bleeding this fast, she wouldn’t make it to the parking lot alive. He balled up the strip of fabric he’d taken from her mouth and stuffed it into the wound. A groan emitted from deep inside her, and her torso curled away from him.
“Why did you do that?” he pled, staring over her head into the night. She tried to respond but sputtered instead, and then began to choke. Something warm and sticky pooled in the hand Eddie was using to support her head. She was bleeding from her mouth.
“No, ma’am. Don’t be doin’ that now,” Eddie whispered. He knew he shouldn’t move her, but he figured that rule only applied to people with decent odds of survival. He stuck the gun in his coat pocket, bent down, and picked her up. She was heavier than he thought she’d be. His legs shook, and his feet were on fire. How was he going to carry her up? She moaned and clutched his jacket. Her face twisted with concentration, and her lips curled around a word. Her fingers fluttered at his hip. Her mouth opened, and her eyes focused on his face for a full second.
“What are you trying to tell me?” Eddie pled, studying her.
“Aaace,” came out of her mouth, ending in a hiss, and her bloody finger scratched against his chest insistently. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets, and her body went limp.
“No!” Eddie shook her. She rocked in his arms, her limbs swaying. “No!” He hugged her close and staggered to the base of the hill. He looked up, searching for the way he’d come. Beams of light shone down from the crest. He squinted in the sudden flood of light.
“I see someone!” a voice shouted from above. “Tarson PD! Who’s down there?”
“Help! It’s me, Eddie,” he cried out. “I… a lady’s been… she’s hurt bad!”
“Stay right where you are, Eddie!” another voice shouted. “Don’t move!”
Eddie turned and leaned against the hill, holding the woman against his chest. He wished any sign of breath or life would stir under his hand.
Scuffling sounds on the hill drew his ear. He glanced over his shoulder. Two officers descended, guns drawn. As they came closer, he recognized them as Briggs and Stanton, officers he’d spoken to over the last year in his search for Hazel.
“Let her go, Eddie,” Briggs said, and aimed the barrel of his gun near Eddie’s face.
“I don’t think I should do that,” Eddie said, distracted by the gun. He probably hurt her more when he picked her up. He couldn’t very well risk putting her down again. He began to straighten, shifting the weight of her.
“I said don’t move!” Briggs shouted. Eddie flinched, and confusion set in. Why was Briggs yelling at him? Static buzzed from the radio clipped on Briggs’s hip, and the captain’s familiar voice blared through, asking if they’d found anything.
“We got her. We’ve got them both,” Briggs said. “Ama. Ama, can you hear me?” he said loudly.
“She’s unconscious,” Eddie said, rocking forward again, trying to move so they could see her face.
“Stay where you are!” Briggs growled. “Put Ama down on the ground, Eddie. Then back away.”
“I can’t do that!” Eddie shouted back. “What if I hurt her worse?”
“Did you hurt her, Eddie?” Briggs asked, stepping toward them.
“No… well, yes. But I didn’t mean to.”
“Put her down!” Briggs ordered.
Recognition charged through him. He was standing in the woods with a warm gun in his pocket and a dying woman in his arms. Her blood was on his hands, his coat, his shoes. The bullet lodged somewhere inside her would match his gun. His fingers had gunpowder on them from the discharge. His heart shuddered in his chest. He kneeled down and gingerly placed her on the earth.
“Hands up!” Stanton barked.
Eddie raised his hands. “Let me explain. This isn’t what it looks like. A man had her,” he said. “I tried to shoot him, but she jumped in the way. I… I shot her. I didn’t mean to.”
Briggs crouched down beside the woman and put his fingers on her throat. “She’s still alive,” he said. “But I don’t know how long she’s going to stay that way. It’ll take us too long to carry her out. Do you think we can get a chopper?”
“Even if we had one, I don’t know where it would land,” Stanton responded, stepping close to Eddie, his gun trained low.
“There’s a clearing not far from here. Right beside the river. It’s pretty level,” Eddie mumbled, watching Ama; the way her hand dangled from her wrist, her light hair spilled across the ground like milk on a dark wood floor.
“Shut up,” Briggs responded. He brought the radio to his mouth. “Ama is in bad shape. GSW to the chest, lots of blood. She needs to go straight to the hospital in Dalton. We found Eddie holding her.”
“This isn’t what it looks like!” Eddie pled.
“You know, I prayed for you after Hazel disappeared,” Stanton said, glaring. “I searched these woods for her with you. You had us all fooled. What did you do to Hazel, Eddie? Is she out here, too? What kind of man hurts his own kid?”
Eddie’s head snapped back as if he’d been struck, and rage blazed a path up his spine. “I would never harm a hair on my daughter’s head,” he roared. “I have never hurt anybody!”