He tried to be quiet as he crested the hill, but the brush was too thick, so he charged the position and found a man lying on his back. He couldn’t see the man’s face because a backpack blocked his view, but from the size of the man, it was Peter Molinar. A few feet away lay Lyle’s backpack, but no Lyle—and for the moment, no Reed.

Max leveled the shotgun and turned in a circle, searching the trees. Then he stepped close enough to see Peter’s face twisted in pain, and bloodied bits of what remained of his right knee visible through the hole in his pants. A patch of crimson bloomed on his right abdomen where Peter’s hands gripped his coat, his fingers red and wet. Peter saw Max and whispered, “Help me.” Then Peter’s eyes shrank to a squint, as if he was confused. “You’re… that cop?”

“Hello, Peter.”

Something moved to Max’s right. He spun and aimed the shotgun at the sound, but let the barrel drift to the ground as Lyle walked out of the woods, his rifle hanging low at his side. “They’re gone,” he said bitterly.

Max leaned his shotgun against a tree out of Peter’s reach, but kept his eyes on Lyle, who stopped about ten feet away from the wounded man. “Where are they?” Lyle’s voice was low and ominous. He slowly raised the muzzle of the rifle until it pointed at Peter’s face, but Peter’s eyes were closed.

Max stood on the other side of Peter, not sure what to do. He couldn’t stop Lyle from pulling the trigger. Max needed to get control of the situation before it spiraled. He stepped around Peter in the hopes of getting between the two men, but Lyle closed the gap and stood beside Peter, the gun still aimed down at his face.

“Where’s Reed?” Lyle said. “Where’s Pip?”

Peter opened his eyes and looked at his bloodstained hands. It was as if Max, and Lyle, and the gun didn’t exist. “He shot me.”

Lyle kicked Peter’s bloody knee, which caused Peter to howl like a wounded beast, his cry filling the trees. “I asked you a question.”

“Stop!” Max grabbed Lyle by the arm, but in a blur of motion, the older man spun toward Max and raised the rifle as if to smash Max in the face. Startled, Max shoved his palms into Lyle’s chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. Before Lyle could react, Max stood over him, ready to kick the gun away. He pointed a finger at Lyle and yelled, “Goddammit, Lyle, keep your shit together!”

Lyle, on his back, raised himself onto his elbows. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“You won’t get anything that way.”

“Son, don’t you ever—”

“Beat him to death and we won’t know where Reed’s headed.” Max softened his tone. “We won’t know what happened to Sandy. Let me try.”

“We ain’t got time!”

“One minute. That’s all I’m asking.”