Stone and Abby came over to him and she knelt down next to him, took his hand.

“Tyree, are you okay?”

He tried hard not to show the pain. “Hell, take more than this to get me all worked up.”

The shout made them all turn toward the woods.

Caleb was running back to them. “Hurry. Hurry.”

They raced after him, Stone and Reuben in the lead. They plowed through the brush and vines.

When Stone saw what Caleb was pointing to, he felt like he had just died. He rushed to the fallen man’s side.

“Danny? Danny?”

Danny Riker was lying on his back, a scoped deer rifle in the brush next to him. Stone wasn’t focusing on the weapon, but rather on the large splotch of red on Danny’s chest.

Danny’s eyes focused on him. He managed a smile. “Don’t think I ducked in time,” he said weakly.

Stone looked back over his shoulder toward where Manson lay. That first blast from the MP-5 had hit right here. He turned back and counted no less than three bullet holes in Danny’s shirt. And they were placed at locations that Stone knew did not allow for survival, even if they could get him to a hospital in the next few minutes, which they couldn’t. He had brought Willie Coombs back from the dead using the juice from a spark plug wire. There would be no such miracle for Danny Riker.

Reuben squatted next to his friend and picked up the rifle. “He was the one who took out the warden.”

“Damn right,” Danny said, his voice growing stronger for an instant. “He killed Willie. Told the little son of a bitch what I’d do if he did that.” His hardened features softened. “Get my ma, will-ya, Ben?”

Stone felt rather than heard the presence behind him. He rose and stared at Abby, whose gaze was only on her son.

“I’m sorry, Abby,” Stone said. “I’m sorry.”

Blood was spilling out of Danny’s mouth. “Ma?”

She dropped to her knees next to him, taking his hand in hers. The sob burst from her with such force that all the others, who’d clustered somberly around mother and son, felt tears rise to their own eyes. Her features looked like those of a child fleeing a monster in a nightmare. Yet then Abby almost instantly calmed, perhaps sensing that her son needed her to be strong; that her boy’s last moments on earth would not be taken up with the sight of a hysterical mother.

“I’m sorry, Ma. For all the stuff.”

Stone knelt and held the young man’s other hand. He felt it growing cold.

She said, “I love you, Danny. I’ve always loved you more than I loved anything.”