Page 85 of Dark Sky

“Please turn around,” Joe said.

Price winced, then did so. He said, “Just tell me when you—”

With no warning and as swiftly as he could, Joe grasped the shaft just behind the barbed tip and pulled the spear straightthrough Price’s shoulder. Price reacted with a swift intake of breath and his legs wobbled. Joe tossed the spear aside and helped steady Price by holding him up in a bear hug from behind.

“Done,” Joe said into Price’s ear. “Are you okay?”

“I was about to say, tell me just before you do that so I can get ready. You could have given me some warning.”

“I could have,” Joe said, stepping back and tearing open the first square-gauze package with his teeth.

“You’ve done this before,” Price said.

“I have a few times.”

“I think I can feel it bleeding.”

“That’s good. You’re less likely to get tetanus or any other kind of infection if it bleeds out.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do. I get hurt a lot,” Joe replied. “And you have no idea how many hooks and flies I’ve taken out of fishermen over the years. It’s best to do it fast.”

Price nodded.

“Now take your shirt off so I can put compresses on the wounds and tape it up.”

—

While Price buttoned up his shirt, Joe retrieved the spear he’d dropped and stuck it into his waistband beneath his belt. He didn’t want to leave it behind for the Thomas clan to find. Plus, any potential weapon might be useful.

Before turning it off, he ran the beam of the headlamp over the .22 rifle to make sure the muzzle wasn’t blocked by mudand that the bolt action was clean. He ejected the single cartridge and studied it, hoping he could tell by looking at it if it would misfire. He couldn’t determine anything and he put the cartridge back in and secured it by working the bolt.

Joe looked up and around him. The eastern sky was beginning to take on a slightly cream-with-coffee hue, but it would still be at least two hours before the sun broke over the top of the mountains.

In the dark behind them, a length of wood snapped. It was a heavy crunch, indicating there was real weight behind it. He couldn’t guess how far away it had happened, but it was close.

“Hear that?” he whispered to Price.

“I did. What was it?”

“A horse stepping on a dead branch under the snow.”

Price’s eyes widened and Joe choked the headlamp out.

“What should we do?” Price asked.

“Run.”

“Where?”

“That way,” he motioned.

“Straight across the creek?”

“Yup. They’re right behind us and getting closer. We need to angle away from the creek.”

Joe shouldered around Price and walked stiff-legged to the creek. Price followed.