The sound of crunching metal, and an explosion in my face. The feeling of my body pitching forward and back.

Smoke shifted before my eyes; the sun shot through it. No, it wasn’t smoke. Yellow dust. A burnt powder smell. White pillowcase on the dashboard.

It took me a second. Oh, the deflated airbag.

Brandon moaned beside me. His head leaned back onto the headrest. There were brown shards embedded in his forehead, and blood leaked into his eyes. The airbag had shattered his sunglasses, sinking the sharp pieces into his forehead. A white deflated bag lay in his lap too, yellow dust hanging in the air in front of his face. As he breathed in, he pulled a current of dust, and coughed it out. His wrists lay in his lap, burnt and weeping blood.

Nothing life-threatening, but the pain was probably bad. “I’ll get help,” I said.

I reached for my door handle, but it was already rattling.

In my passenger side window, Pierce was hunched over, knocking on the window with his gun, smiling.

As long as Trevor got Emily inside the house.

“I’ll open the door. I’m coming.” I rattled the door handle, but it was locked. “Please. Just don’t hurt my—”

His face crashed against my window. His cheek flattened and spread, his face slid down, leaving a smear of blood.

I screamed.

The cougar walked backward, its mouth gripping Pierce by the back of his neck. His legs were like hoses being dragged through the grass, his hands trying to get at the cat’s head. Never turn your back on a big cat. This big cat dragged Pierce toward where the other cougar was minutes ago. But it wasn’t there anymore.

I reached over Brandon, drawing a louder moan from him, and unlocked my door. I stumbled out and ran toward Emily. Several hundred feet away, she stood outside our house, mouth open and staring in my direction. She’d witnessed a cougar attack a man. She was probably wondering if she’d imagined it.

“Emily!” my voice cracking. “Go inside!”

“Momma?” Her voice was quiet, barely audible. She ran toward me.

I ran harder, waving her away. “Go inside! Go get Dad!”

She’d already made it to the next-door neighbor’s yard when I saw the cougar crawling slowly toward Emily, on its belly, almost lazily. Stalking. It made a hissing noise, sounded like a snake.

“Emily, go inside!” I veered toward the cougar. No idea what I would do when I reached it—tackle it, kick it—but I needed to get in between that animal and Emily. My screaming didn’t lure its attention. It was honed in on Emily. It stood and crept toward her.

“Emily. Go back!”

Emily, thank God, saw the cougar, and stopped dead in her tracks.

“Back away, Emily. Don’t turn around.” It can’t resist your turned back.