“Well, well, what do we have here?” a woman’s voice called out from the trees on the right.
Fletcher and Dice both stopped what they were doing, turned, and looked in the direction of the voice.
So did Summer, seeing a woman approaching from the thicket of trees with her hands behind her back. A woman she knew well. A woman with glasses and dark, curly hair.
“Who the hell is this chick, Fletcher?” Boone asked.
“Liz?” Summer mumbled.
“I think you boys need to rethink the situation,” Liz said, moving through the grass with methodical steps, not appearing to be in any hurry. “Those are my friends and you need to let them all go. This very instant.”
“And why would we do that?” Fletcher asked her, looking more amused than on alert.
“Because I said so.”
Fletcher held up the blade in his hand. “Lady, I don’t know who you think you are, but you are not in a position to demand anything.”
“Oh, I think I am.”
“Liz, stay back. Please,” Summer said, praying her friend would listen.
Fletcher laughed, then waved a signal at a dark-skinned man who was half the size of Boone. “Sketch, go take care of that bitch. Personal like.”
“With pleasure, boss,” Sketch said before taking out a blade and running at Liz.
CHAPTER 42
Liz Blackwell stood with trembling hands behind her back, convincing her legs to remain still, even though every fiber in her body wanted her to turn and run.
It’s for the children. It’s for the children, she kept reminding herself, letting the visuals of their lifeless bodies boil in her thoughts.
The man running at her wasn’t much bigger than she was, but he had a knife drawn. A huge knife, the kind that can open caverns of flesh and impale organs.
If she had Krista’s training, she might have been able to fend him off with punches and kicks, but she was a healer. Not a combatant. So she’d have to stick to the plan and stand firm.
She sucked in a deep breath as he closed fast, now at a distance of thirty feet, with his boots in high gear.
A second or two later, he reached twenty feet and then he arrived at the ten-foot line, crossing her mark.
“For the children,” she screamed as she brought the pistol out from behind her back, aimed the sights at the man called Sketch, and then pulled the trigger, all before his next foot hit the grass.
The man’s head exploded, sending sprays of red in multiple directions. Then his body went limp all at once, skidding into a flop on his back, stopping only inches from her feet.
She pulled the trigger again, this time aiming at the center of his chest. The round hit its mark, tunneling deep into tissue with a blood trail following.
Liz fired again and again, her mind showing her the faces of the children as she emptied the magazine of its rounds.
She knew she was the one pulling the trigger, but that was not how it felt. It was almost as though someone else was in charge of her body, sending round after round into this man.
When the gun only clicked, Liz craned her neck up to see Fletcher standing by Summer with his mouth agape.
Before Fletcher could react, one of his other men called out, pointing at the trees behind the group. “Fletcher. Look. They’re gone.”
* * *
Summer felt Fletcher’s grip fade as he turned to look in the direction of Dice, who had just pointed at the tree trunks behind them and yelled.
Summer didn’t hesitate, pulling away in a yank. The sudden movement sent her off balance, stumbling and rolling in the grass.
When she turned over and looked up, she realized the tree trunks were empty. Only cut ropes and hoods remained on the ground. Somehow the four bound prisoners had escaped.
“Shit, now where’s the girl?” Dice said, his eyes looking at the location in the grass where Helena’s body used to be.
“Jesus Christ. What are these people? Ghosts?” Boone asked.
“It’s obvious. They’re trying to misdirect you,” Lipton said, his tone full of angst.
“Did you lose something?” a booming male voice said from a stand of bushes forty feet away.
All of Fletcher’s men turned in unison, some of them aiming their weapons at the bushes.
Summer looked in that direction as well, but all she saw was the green of the forest acting as a backdrop, obscuring anything beyond the border of the clearing. No sounds either, like crunching leaves or branches.
“Death is the great equalizer,” the unknown voice added, sounding as though his words were coming at them from multiple directions.
“Shit, now the other one’s gone,” Dice said, pointing ninety degrees to the left, where Liz had been standing.
“Enough of these games. Show yourself,” Fletcher said in a commanding tone.
“Turn around,” the voice said an instant later, his tone echoing across the clearing.
That’s when Summer heard it happen—the swoosh of a sword, then the roar of a warrior, as a cloaked man flew into frame and attacked from behind.
It was Nomad, running forward with his cloak trailing in the wind as he hacked off the arm of Archer, who was guarding Horton.
Archer screamed as blood shot out from the stump.
Nomad continued his assault, seeming to defy gravity as he spun in midair and brought his blade around and under Archer’s groin, chopping into the man’s genitals.
Archer toppled over as Nomad sprinted and spun again with the grace and speed of a cat, bringing his blade around and catching the side of the head of the gray-haired man who was still pinning the dog to the dirt.
The edge of his weapon sank deep into the old guy’s skull, splitting bone and brain matter as a chunk of his head peeled off in a spray of red. The man’s body fell to the side, freeing the dog from its capture.
Sergeant Barkley scurried to his feet, then ran at Fletcher, leaping into the air with an open jaw leading the charge.
Summer watched the canine’s teeth open a gash on the side of Fletcher’s face as the animal hung onto his skin against the force of gravity.
Fletcher groaned, twisted, and flailed, trying to knock the dog loose.
Nomad twirled, turning his attention to Dice. He started toward him with a heavy step.
Krista joined the action, sweeping her legs around and taking down Boone with a slew-foot maneuver. Then she brought an elbow up and around, landing it in the middle of his face with all her strength.
Boone cried out and let go of the guns, then brought his hands up to his nose.
Krista lunged across him and latched onto the weapons he’d dropped, then rolled twice in the grass as she moved away from him. She brought the pistols up and into a firing position, aiming them a Boone.
Nomad’s feet pounded the grass behind Dice, who was now making a break for it. Nomad’s swiftness was impressive, but it was no match for Dice and his cheetah-like speed.
Just when it appeared Dice would get away, another person appeared from the bushes where the booming voice had called out from earlier.
It was Watson, the cook from the silo, with a tree branch in his hand. He pulled it back and swung it like a baseball bat, landing a blow to Dice’s neck.
Dice’s feet went forward, while his head went backward, looking as though he’d just run into a clothesline.
“Oh, to hell with this,” a familiar voice said from behind Summer. She turned to see Lipton running for the trees where the Scab women had been tied up, looking the part of both coward and traitor.