BooksBarbecue
Back The Runaway
Chapters (80)
  1. Cover
  2. TITLES BY NICK PETRIE
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  79. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  80. What’s next onyour reading list?

He stuck the tactical light around the corner and hit the switch twice for strobe mode. The rapid flashing would make their NV gear flare and buy him a few precious seconds. As their guns went silent, he swung the carbine around and fired a few volleys into the trees, just to remind them he had teeth of his own. Then he flicked the rifle to single-shot, jammed its muzzle against the padlock’s shackle, turned his face away, and pulled the trigger.

The hardened steel was no match for a high-velocity round. The shackle cracked and he peeled the lock away, firing into the trees again as he hauled the door open, waiting for the shot to pierce his flesh and end his life.

Then he was inside the darkened barn, the white static flaring as he clicked the light to red to make himself less visible, then cast about for some way to brace the door shut. “Stay down,” he shouted. “Where are you?”

37

HELENE

NOW

In the barn, Helene heard gunfire. Then a man called out to her. He didn’t sound like Roy or Frank or the others. “Back here,” she shouted, hoping he could follow her voice.

Locked in a stall like livestock, like a damn brood cow. Maybe that’s what she really was to Roy. The door had another one of those round padlocks on it, as if keeping her here was a possibility he’d considered from the beginning. Ever since he’d learned she was pregnant, or before.

Maybe there were worse things than the freezer.

—

It was only a few hours ago, when the driver of the old green pickup leaped off the bluff and into the river. She’d already been tearing open the neck of her dress, her mind in overdrive.

She heard the BOOM BOOM of Pony and Frank firing their shotguns at him. She watched Hollywood run to the bluff’s edge with a shiny rifle, sighting down into the water below. Then Roy opened her door, grabbed her arm, and pulled her out.

“Thank God you’re here,” she said. She didn’t need to pretend to be scared.

He dragged her toward Pony’s truck, his face cold. Even if she wanted to resist, she couldn’t. He was too strong. Instead she made herself walk faster than him, as if it were her idea, holding the ruined front of her dress together with her free hand.

She felt bad about the guy who’d jumped into the river, but there was no way he was coming back for her, no matter what he said. She had to save herself. She had her story ready.

She was afraid she’d overdone it with the ripped dress, but Roy didn’t even look at her. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed. He reeled her back in with a yank on her arm, then gave her a sharp slap across the face.