Something bad was happening, right now in that barn, at the hands of those men, and there was no time left to wait. He had said more than once that he wouldn’t let anyone else die, and it was easy and immature to say, but the time had come to put those words into action.

He was here, and the time was now.

CHAPTER 39

He pulled his backpack toward him in the dark, adrenaline flooding his bloodstream so instantaneously that he had to hold on to something to stop his hands shaking. He found the flare guns, loaded them, even with his fingers fumbling, slipped them into his belt, and grabbed hold of the spear.

“If something happens, get back to the camp, get the boats to the river, and go.”

He stood.

“No, wait…” It was Alice, but there was no time.

“You heard me. If you have to, you go.”

And he set off through the undergrowth, breaking into a run even as the thoughts and ideas assembled, the possibilities, the things he could and would have to do. As he reached the clearing, his thoughts suddenly crystalized and the nerves fell away and he felt an odd sense of peace deep within himself.

The dog saw him first, backing away from the meat, growling, uncertain. It let out an exploratory bark, but the noise from elsewhere was loud enough that no one would hear. He had to save the dog, he knew that, even in the middle of all the things he had to do—the dog had done no harm to anyone.

He moved silently toward it, picked up the meat and held it out. The dog hesitated, still growling, but edged forward and snatched the meat from his hand. With its mouth full, Tom moved in, scratching the top of its head even as it growled possessively at him. He reached over then and released its chain and the dog jumped away from him and carried its prize off into the shadows.

Tom moved on to the jerry cans. He put his spear down, then opened the first can and poured the fuel in a line along the side of the bunkhouse and onto the decking. He ran back, got another and opened it, leaving it on its side near the bunkhouse door, the gasoline glugging out across the timbers.

He got his spear, retreating then beyond the far corner of the barn. He could hear the voices of the two men inside, playful and malicious, and he thought he heard Joel once, weakly, a plea of some sort.