Mick again released Jake. He rose, screamed, dropped, and was caught again, this time by a shoe.
“You’re lucky,” Mick said. “Almost didn’t catch him this time.”
“Goddammit, Snare! He’s eight!”
“My child suffered worse at age five.”
“Then show some fucking mercy!”
“Kill Berke and I will.”
Ash poked the barrel into her palm.
Curled her finger around the trigger.
Waited for the right moment.
Waited.
Waited.
A shot crackled through the air. Ash flinched, confused. She hadn’t squeezed the trigger. Has Berke been hiding a gun of her own? But when Ash turned around, she saw a red hole in Berke’s forehead, like a second mouth had opened above her eye socket. Blood poured from the wound, painting the girl’s cheek as she tipped forward.
With a gurgling moan, Berke dropped facedown into the snow.
Behind her stood Trent, clutching the gun that had killed her.
79
Horrible didn’t begin to describe it. Ash fell to her knees beside Berke, the latest corpse on a pile that wouldn’t stop mounting. Here was a girl who’d been stuck in Hollow Hills since infancy, who only wanted to escape town, chase a lover, and make mistakes like any normal teenager. But there would be no escape. There would be nothing for her. Nothing at all, except for an exit wound above her left eyebrow.
Behind the fallen corpse, Trent’s eyes flickered between his gun and Berke’s body. He squirmed, blinking, as if he couldn’t quite understand how a close-range bullet could have such an impact on a teenage girl. Trembling, he looked at Ash, his eyes pleading for redemption.
“Trent, you idiot!”
“I had no choice! What was I supposed to do?”
What was he supposed to do? Anything other than what he did. Berke had been willing to dive into freezing water to help his son, and Trent thanked her with a bullet.
It crushed Ash. Disgusted her. Enraged her.
She aimed at his leg and fired.
The gun kicked and Trent flinched. Roaring, he tumbled next to Berke’s corpse, wailing as he grabbed his shin. Blood darkened his pant leg and spread along his calf, the same one she had wrecked ten years ago, accidently. This time it was deliberate—but agonizingly necessary. If he were willing to murder Berke, Ash would undoubtedly be next, followed by the rest of the Traders.
High above, Mick roared, sharing Trent’s agony. Ash spun around and saw him fall from the ledge, Jake’s foot still in his grasp. They plummeted, their cries intensifying as they approached the water. Halfway down, Mick bashed his shoulder off a jutting rock. The impact split them apart in midair. When they struck the creek, Ash heard two separate splashes.
“Jaaake!” Ash ran along the muddy bank, shining her light across the surface. Ripples throbbed from both impact points. She didn’t see Jake anywhere. Though his absence horrified her at first, she realized the water here was deeper than Snare had threatened.
To her left a splash sounded.
“Help!” Jake yelled, gurgling. “Help!”
She raced after him as the waters propelled him downstream. She closed in, her feet sliding in mud, but she realized he was beyond her reach.
“Jake, swim to me!”
“I can’t!”
“You have to!”
Bubbles swallowed his face. Took him under.
Another splash sounded. Jake’s hands swatted air.
“Hang on!” She scrambled, looking for a sturdy branch to extend out to him. All she found were busted twigs, neither long nor large.
“Hellllpppp!”
The current dragged him farther downstream. She shined her light ahead, hoping the creek might curve and bring him closer. Instead a ledge appeared. Her ringing ears could barely pick up the sound of the splashing waterfall, but the fact she heard it at all suggested it was a steep drop.
“Jake, swim to me! Now!” She dropped to her knees in the mud. Leaning forward, she stretched as far out as she could without falling in. Vertigo swirled in her head as the surface clicked beneath her. She swiped at Jake’s hand, connecting for a second with a finger, but couldn’t grab him.
He floated past, the ledge seconds away.
I have to jump in. The thought made her skin crawl. She would then have to climb out, soaking wet, into the blizzard’s ripping gales. Somehow she would have to navigate this messy forest, find her way back to the dam, and finish it, all while soggy and freezing. And if she and Jake were both sopping wet, how was she supposed to get him dry and warm?
No, she couldn’t jump in. There had to be another way.
Checking nearby, she found a brittle stick, maybe a foot long. On her knees, she stretched it out to Jake, who struggled to stay in one place in the current. He caught it, but when she pulled, it snapped. She almost fell in; her dreads spilled across her face.
That gave her an idea.
She pulled her knife from her pocket. Touching the tip just above her scalp, she sawed through the root of a dreadlock. Her scalp ached as the blade sliced through. After her dread snapped loose, she cast it like a three-foot fishing line.
“Jake, catch!”
His hand swung but missed.
She cast again.
His hand swatted air, bubbles surrounding his desperate eyes.
For a moment she felt a tug on her makeshift rope.
Then he went under.
“No!” Panic rocketed down her brainstem. This isn’t working. I have to dive in. Better that they both be wet and shivering than—
The hair rope snapped taut in her fist.
“Hang on!” She tugged, leaning backward, her shoulders aching and straining. She battled against the creek’s relentless tug. It fought back. She fought harder.
But still Jake’s leg slid over the ledge.
“Shit—hang on!”
Cold mud slid beneath her knees. The toes of her boots skidded behind her. In near-total darkness, she saw his legs kick above the crest of the waterfall. Then they sank out of sight.
She held tight with both hands, struggling to keep him topside. She could barely see the red sleeves of his Phillies jacket. Leaning backward, she struggled against Jake’s weight and the current.
Do something good with that hand.
Her father’s words pumped adrenaline down her arms. Gripping the dread with her right hand, she reached forward and pulled with the left. Her new strength surprised her. Jake seemed lighter. She reached forward with the right. Then the left again. Another strong pull and the boy was safely ashore.
She hugged his shivering body against her. Through her gloves, she could feel his saturated hair and clothes. Something within her broke as he whimpered. She clutched him close, his wet clothes soaking her own.
“C-Cold,” he said. “It h-hurts.”
“I know.”
“B-Burns…”
“Hang on.” She started peeling her jacket from her arms. “Let’s warm you up. The hard part’s over, so—”
Gunfire boomed upstream. Ash jumped, then rushed Jake behind the nearest tree trunk. It was barely wide enough to provide cover.
She hugged him tight. The shots kept coming.
80
Karl chased the echoing gunshots. After getting left behind in the thicket, he finally knew where to run. Snow and twigs crunched underfoot as he cut across rolling, uneven terrain. He reached the creek and chased it, rushing deeper into the woods. The towel supporting his gashed, aching knee loosened with each step. He didn’t dare break his stride to stop and tighten the knot. Not until Jake, Trent, and Ashlee were safe.