‘There, behind the church!’ She pointed to Ephraim, who’d taken cover behind the domed roof of the earth shelter that was the largest and tallest of all of the structures in the compound. She and her group were out in the open, only able to hide behind the trees, while he was protected by earth and stone. ‘Rafe, he’s right there!’
‘Gideon!’ Rafe shouted. ‘Behind you!’
Ephraim had snuck up on them, separating them from the way out. No way out. The words taunted her mind, singing gleefully every time she tried to push them away. To shove them in the box in her mind. To nail the lid shut. You’re trapped. Trapped. No way out.
She watched, unable to take her eyes off Ephraim as he appeared above the church’s roofline, his rifle aimed at Gideon. Who was crouching next to Erin, cradling his hand to his chest and reaching for the weapon he’d dropped in the snow.
Mercy could see the snow tinged with red below his hand. Ephraim had shot him and was still shooting. She’d counted five shots already, all fired in rapid succession. Most magazines held ten rounds, but high-capacity magazines could hold thirty or even more.
How many rounds did Ephraim’s rifle magazine hold?
Cursing, Rafe lurched to the side because Gideon was blocking his line of fire. ‘Gideon, get down!’
Daisy yanked Gideon down just as Ephraim fired again, the bullet going wide to hit the tree where Gideon’s head had been only seconds before. Bark flew everywhere and, beside her, Rafe cursed again. Mercy could feel the fear rolling off him and that set her own panic spiraling, dragging her down.
Down, where it was dark and numb and nothing hurt.
‘Mercy,’ Rafe hissed. ‘Stay with me. We’re going to be okay. I won’t leave you. Stay with me.’
The sound of his voice was like an anchor, holding her for a moment. Just long enough to think. No more. She would not disappear. Not today. She dug her nails into her own wrist with the hand she’d bared to comfort Gideon, the small spike of pain helping her focus. Keeping her centered.
It had been a technique she’d learned in therapy. Her therapist hadn’t been entirely pleased with the option, but it helped Mercy keep herself from becoming a walking zombie, so Mercy was wholly on board.
She opened her eyes, seeing Sasha lying on her side next to Erin, putting pressure on the wound in Erin’s leg. Gideon was holding one of his hands with the other, his face contorted in a grimace.
They were hurt. Her family. Her friends. They were hurt.
And then Gideon was standing, holding his service weapon in his left hand as he aimed at Ephraim, who’d slipped far enough into view to point his rifle at her brother. Gideon got off a single shot before Ephraim squeezed off three in rapid succession. Gideon went down on his butt in the snow before curling onto his side.
Mercy tried to scream, but the sound stuck in her throat. Daisy was at Gideon’s side, remarkably calm, as she ran her hands over his chest. Mercy started to move, but Daisy shouted that Gideon was all right.
‘Kevlar vest,’ Rafe muttered, shaken. ‘He’ll be bruised. Maybe a few fractured ribs. But he’ll live.’
Mercy was glad she was on her stomach because she was certain her knees would have folded beneath her. I need to do something. Think, Mercy. Think, dammit.
She didn’t have a gun. Didn’t have any weapons at all. Not even Mace.
But she did have herself. Me. He wants me. Stand up. Let him take you.
But she couldn’t make herself move, self-preservation holding her back. Don’t be selfish. Dammit, Mercy. Gideon, Rafe, and Erin had sacrificed for her. It was clear that they were Ephraim’s targets as well. They were the cops. They had the guns. They were in his way.
But I’m who he wants. She pushed herself up to her knees and time seemed to stand still when Ephraim froze next to the wall of the church, staring at her. For what seemed like forever, they stared at each other. And then, like it was slow motion, Ephraim raised his rifle and aimed, his lips curving in a triumphant smile.
But Mercy dropped back to her stomach as the blast that came from beside her had her covering her ears out of reflex.
Rafe had fired.
Mercy thought she heard Ephraim scream, but it had to have been in her mind, because she couldn’t hear anything now. Her ears were ringing, her heart pounding, her eyes watering, and her glasses were wet with snow, but her vision was clear enough to see that Ephraim was backing up as he fired again. One, two, three shots.
Sasha pitched forward, landing across Erin’s body.
Mercy’s heart dropped into her stomach. ‘No. Sasha!’ She started to rise, but Rafe yanked at her coat, pulling her back down. She wanted to fight Rafe’s hold, but she saw Sasha moving, one hand on her upper arm.
Gideon had staggered back to his feet, taking shelter behind a tree, firing at Ephraim with his other hand.
And then Daisy was moving, grabbing Erin’s gun, shooting at Ephraim, but the bastard had slipped through the huts and was now running along the outer ring. He appeared for only seconds between huts, firing at them as he ran for the front gate. He was going to get away.
The air around her rang with one continuous barrage of gunfire, and Mercy was beyond deafened. But she wasn’t catatonic. She hadn’t become a zombie.
Gideon started running unsteadily after Ephraim, disappearing from view through the huts. Rafe used his cane to get to his own feet, and then he was half running, half limping, following Gideon.
Mercy wasn’t sure if she should stay in place or join the other women, but then she decided to stay where she was. If she was with them, they were more of a target. So she didn’t move.
Until, through the ringing in her ears, she heard a thin scream coming from the direction Ephraim had run. Mercy didn’t stop to think, she simply ran toward the scream. Crossing the open common area, she passed Rafe at the school, ignoring his commands for her to stop, to go back. She ran faster until she’d returned to where they’d left their vehicles, then came to a dead stop, sliding in the snow a few feet as she stared in horror.
Gideon’s Suburban was parked behind Erin’s Range Rover. And behind that, parked perpendicular to Gideon’s SUV, was Karl Sokolov’s Tahoe – the one Rafe had loaned to André and Farrah.
André was on his back in the bloodstained snow, hands closed around Ephraim’s throat while Ephraim straddled his chest, delivering blow after desperate blow to André’s head with his fists. Farrah had leaped into the fray, yanking at the rifle strapped to Ephraim’s back, screaming for help as she tried to dislodge the sonofabitch. The snow was disturbed all around them, as if the two men had rolled while trying to incapacitate each other.
Ephraim was hitting much harder with his left fist. The right sleeve of his coat was dark with blood. At least Rafe got him, Mercy thought with grim satisfaction.