Page 160 of Hush

“Running?”

“Someone ran down the creek a bit ago. Heard them like they was a herd of elephants. Then the shots, and then you crawled over here and tried to die.”

Running. Tomhadto be alive. He was trying to escape, trying to survive. Mike grabbed Willy’s arms and tugged him close, pushing their faces together. Already, he was starting to feel the venom ebb from his system. His vision was still blurry, and he still felt blood rising in his mouth, but the fire spreading through his body had cooled. “Willy, wehaveto help Tom. Wehaveto save him.”

Willy arched one eyebrow at him. “You want me to save a federal judge?”

“Damn it, he’s Tom Brewer! You knew him as a kid!”

“Kids grow up. Become feds.”

“Willy! I’m a fed! Aren’t we friends?”

“You wereusefulto me, marshal. To us. I fed you lies to keep you away from Whitmore.”

“What? Jesus, youareone of them. You helped hide Whitmore!”

Willy smirked. “Guilty as sin, marshal. Andyouhelped us hide him, since you was so easy to mislead.”

Damn it! Mike gritted his teeth, choked back a scream. Damn it all! He was too trusting, far, far too trusting, in every way. With his heart, with his mind. “Willy…please. I can’t let him die.I can’t. If you won’t help me, I’ll go alone.”

Willy peered at him. His look seemed to ask Mike why he should care at all about such a threat.

“If I die, and if Tom dies, there will be fedsall overthis Goddamn mountain. This Goddamn state. You thought the Whitmore hunt was bad? Try letting afederal judgebemurdered! Theentire fucking governmentwill rain fire and brimstone on this patch of your sovereign fucking land,” he spat. “Are you ready for your end times? Are you ready for your apocalyptic war against the government? This is how it will start!”

Willy snorted. He pulled away from Mike and strode to his kitchen, stabbing the syringe into his cutting board. “You did better when you were reminding me of the boy Brewer was. I ain’t afraid of your feds, marshal.”

“Please…” Hot tears, boiling with frustration, leaked from the corners of Mike’s eyes. “Please. Help me. Just shove me out the door. Give me a gun.”

“This man hunting Brewer. You say he’s a fed? A dirty FBI agent?”

“Yes.”

He hummed, stroking his beard, and then reached for a CB radio tucked into a shelf above his kitchen sink. “Hammer, Hammer, this is Fox Den, over.”

“Fox Den, go ahead.”

“We got a lion in the blind, heading southwest through the gap.”

Mike heaved a shaking breath, making fists as he tried to slow his heart. A lion was the radio code for a federal agent, used by the hardest of the sovereign rights terrorists. Used when they were targeting feds, tracking them. Planning an attack.

“Time to form a hunting party.”

“Affirm. Meet at the old Shawnee cave in fifteen. Out.”

Willy hung up the radio. “Let’s get moving, marshal. We got ground to cover.”

Tom crashed through the branches and brush, pumping his legs as hard as he could. Behind him, Barnes was shouting, calling his name. Hollering at him to stop.

He’d never stop. He’d burn his lungs out first.

“Brewer! Damn it! Let’s just talk about this!”

Ahead was the edge of the meadow he and Mike had spent the day in, the sun-drenched, wildflower-strewn meadow. Poplars and sugar maples ringed the edges, and sprawling oaks stretched their branches across the wide, open, treeless space.

If he ran into the meadow, he’d lose the cover of the trees, of the forest. But he was rapidly running out of options. Behind him was Barnes. To his left was the mountain, and if he scrambled up that, he’d be exposed. The meadow was his only option, other than turning around and running right at Barnes. That would be suicide. But so would be running into the open meadow.

Hehadto live. It wasn’t just the panicked firings of his primitive brain, pushing him to keep escaping, keep evading. He had to live so he could bring these killers to justice. BringMike’skillers to justice. Had Barnes killed Mike while he was in the kitchen? Had he been fidgeting while Mike was dying?