Page 43

Chapter 43

Ford

Maybe I shoulda taken her home first?

But there’s a very real chance this might not be their permanent hiding spot. If they’re drifting using different places, this might be the only opportunity that I have.

Wade better fucking show.

Pushing through the growing drifts, I snug the collar of my coat up around my ears and press my cowboy hat lower.

It’s handy for keeping the icy flakes out of the back of my neck. I need as few distractions as possible.

A faint blue light appears ahead, high in the air. It’s not moving.

What the hell is that?

Son of a bitch, it’s a screen.

As I creep closer, I can just make out the faint outline of the narrow steel stairs winding around the edge of the tall silos.

That makes sense they’d be on them.

I can’t see the top from the base of the steps.

What would be the odds that they’d both be up there?

Maybe there’s more than two.

I’d be screwed.

Peering through the thick flakes, I can’t see any other indication that there’s someone else on the ground.

But I haven’t seen their rig either. Did they drive? Hike in? More snow machines?

Fuck. I’m completely rushing in.

They better not circle back and find April.

Nausea grips my stomach as my foot lands on the first metal grate.

I can’t worry about that now.

Leading with my pistol, I take each stair slowly. The last thing I want to do is make any noise to alert whoever it is up there.

The ground slowly disappears into the void of darkness beneath me until I feel like I’m floating in some sort of limbo between the earth and sky.

Hushed voices come from above.

At least two, then heavy footfalls signal someone is coming towards me.

Damn it.

Readying myself, I pull back the slide on my Ruger to make sure I have a round in the chamber.

This might suck.

I try to hug the corrugated side of the silo as snugly as possible to buy me what thin shred element of surprise I may have.

The clunking gets louder.

A wide case appears, clutched to the chest of a bundled man.

All I can see is his eyes widen, before the brows drop and he shoves the package at me, knocking me off balance.

The case bounces between us, then falls under the railing.

That’s when I get a good look at his face.

It isn’t Dave. Nick. Whatever fucking name he’s using now. But the resemblance is close enough, I bet it’s—

“Doug Powell?” I throw it out, hoping I’m right.

His head tilts. “Yea?”

Rage engulfs me.

I don’t want to shoot this piece of shit, I want to break him in half.

Raising the gun, I bring it down swiftly in a bash towards his cheek.

But he ducks just enough it glances off his hat and hits his shoulder.

“The fuck?” he grunts, then stiff arms me backwards.

There’s a perilous moment when I teeter with my toes barely staying on the grate.

When I gain my footing, I aim for his knees, knocking him on his ass.

Our treacherous perch is so steep, he’s still nearly standing, and raises his leg to kick me away.

Using that to my advantage, I grab his boot and swing it out, leveraging him over the short railing.

His scream doesn’t last as long as I hope before it cuts off with a heavy thud from below.

I hope that killed the asshole.

Now I gotta hustle. That cry likely alerted whoever is above.

I’m nearly to the top when I hear a voice from above. “Dougy? You okay?”

Swinging around the last curve, I spot him kneeling on the tiny platform next to the access hatch for the grain bin.

When he looks up, I know it’s him.

The slime. The monster from April’s nightmares.

One of the evil eight who brought about Sarah’s death.

There’s no way I’m taking a chance that he’s escaping.

My first shot hits him in the guts.

Another bullet strikes further down near his hip.

“What the fuck?” he grunts. He presses his hand against the wound and stares at the blood that smears across his fingers.

“The first one was for April. The second for Sarah.” Whipping the barrel down, I land a solid blow against his forehead. A red gash splits from his brow to his lip.

With a howl, he falls back against the metal door.

“That was from me.” My arm falls again and again, each time hitting his head or shoulders with the butt of my pistol.

He claws at the handle of the steel entry and he manages to pry it open.

Half in and half out, I continue beating him.

Breathless, I pause when he goes still.

But a shadowy figure crashes into me, propelling me forward into the black hole of the silo.

I’m splayed out on top of hundreds of tons of grain, and only my foot is caught on the lip of the door.

Oh shit.

“Motherfucker!” Doug has landed just a few feet from me in a dark sea of corn kernels.

When he rolls over, they shift beneath him like quicksand.

“Is he dead? You’re next!” He tries to stand, but his feet sink in the rolling seeds.

Like he’s trying to walk through water, every movement makes him fall deeper into the unstable grain.

The flickering light from the computer screen is the only illumination as I watch him drop lower.

I try to keep my weight spread out, motionless, but his frantic thrashing is settling me into the grain around me.

“Stay still, asshole,” I grit. “Or we’re both gonna die.”

Doug freezes, and I watch the range of emotions flicker over his features until he lands back on anger. “You’re lying,” he spits, then leaps towards me.

His fingers wrap around my wrist, hanking my arm down as his head disappears beneath the surface.

But instead of stopping, he begins to writhe and struggle, dragging us both under the heavy layers.

Kernels fill my nose and ears. Panic threatens to make me fight to rise.

I have to get him off me.

Digging into his hand with my other, I get one finger pried off and bent backwards until I feel the bone snap.

He jerks, but I can’t hear anything past my pounding heart.

When I peel the second off and try to break it, he lets go.

Every instinct in me is telling me to open my mouth and gulp.

I fight it.

I’ve almost died before. I know the peace that would await me.

I ain’t scared of dying.

But I am of leaving April alone to suffer without me.

That thought makes me cup my hand around my face and take a focused breath through my nostrils.

I still have one foot hanging precariously to the edge.

It has to be enough.

From the blood rushing into my head, I think I’m upside down.

Fuck.

The heavy thumping of my pulse gets louder as I try to raise my other leg and get a better hold.

I can’t find it.

There’s something big—

David’s body.

I want to scream in frustration.

All I can hope is the slick toe of my boot can keep me held on as I try to pull myself up.

Flashes of light burst in the corners of my vision.

Breathe dummy.

Pressing my palms against the wavy steel, I try to find a set of bolts I can use to climb with.

It’s smooth.

The pounding sound is deafening.

My thigh trembles as I try to lift myself against the kernels weighing me down.

Oh, God, no.

With a sudden lurch, my foot slips.