Grayson jerked back in surprise, startled at the sharp object so close to his face.
“Bury us all together, under the apple tree in the backyard.” And with that said, she cut her oxygen tube in half.
39
Emma jumped off the wagon before Elmer had pulled it into the barn, and headed to the house, looking for Edith. On the way, she passed Elmer’s truck, packed down with food and supplies. She wondered where Edith was planning to go. She ran up the porch and flung open the screen door.
The kitchen was empty, and a complete mess. Food remains and trash were piled on every counter. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes. This was very unlike how Emma had seen it the last time she’d been here, when the whole house had been neat as a pin.
Edith must be sick.
“Edith?” she yelled, holding the screen door open as she looked in. “It’s me, Emma. I came back with Elmer.” There was no answer. The house was quiet—too quiet.
Emma quietly pulled the screen door shut, not letting it slam. She didn’t want to startle the old woman. She stepped into the kitchen. “Edith!” she called out again, receiving no answer. The house was small. A kitchen and den on one side, and two bedrooms and a bathroom on the other, separated by a short hallway.
Surely, Edith would hear her, if she was home.
Turning around, Emma opened the screen door to go back outside to look. Maybe she was feeding the chickens behind the barn? She took one step, and heard a rustling behind her. She whipped around.
Trunk was standing in the doorway leading into the living room. His clothes and hair were rumpled, as though he’d just got up from a nap. He yawned. “Oh… hey. You surprised me.” He stood looking blankly at her a moment. “Let me start again… Howdy, darling.” He reached for his gun, as a wide smile spread over his face. “You’re not gonna believe this, but after you ladies left me at the rest area, I figured out something… me and the boys drove right through your town just before we met up with you. Our home base is only about twenty miles from your county. How’s that for a coincidence?”
Emma whipped around and ran like the wind out of the house, jumped off the porch, and dashed to the barn, where her gun—and Elmer—were.
Breathlessly, she skidded around the corner and to her amazement found Elmer trying to corner a pig. “Where’d you come from, Bacon Bit? Come ‘ere…” The old man was hopping left to right with his arms spread wide, trying to block the pig from running by. If it wasn’t for a biker standing in his living room, Emma would have laughed.
She stood transfixed watching him a second. That was the pig from the rest area—tutu and everything, although it was filthy at this point. Did they walk with that pig all the way here? She hadn’t seen their motorcycles or any other vehicle outside. Just Elmer’s truck. She blinked her eyes rapidly, pulling herself out of her stupor. “Elmer!” she panted. “They’re here! The bikers…” she sucked in a breath and pointed frantically. “In your house!”
Elmer stood up straight and grabbed his shotgun that was leaned against the open stall wall. The pig squealed happily and ran past him, out into the yard. “Where’s my Edith?”
“I don’t know. I called for her, but she didn’t answer. I didn’t see her either.”
His eyes went wide. “Get your gun, girl. Quick.”
Elmer checked his shotty to be sure it was loaded, hurried to the end of the wagon with Emma, and covered the wide-open door of the barn while she jumped up and grabbed her pistol. She couldn’t believe her stupidity in leaving it there in the first place. She racked the slide, putting one in the chamber, and jumped down, her heart beating wildly.
Trunk had found them after all. How had he known they’d been here? Where was Edith? Emma couldn’t lie to herself. That man gave her nightmares. Her courage from earlier was nowhere to be found. Instead, her body vibrated with fear as they ran out of the barn.
Elmer pointed to the right, his liver-spotted, wrinkled hand shaking in the air. “Peek in through the windows. If you see ‘em, shoot ‘em,” he said. “But don’t hit Edith!” He hurried to the left of the house, both of them avoiding the back door.
Emma took off, ducking under one window that was too high for her to shoot through and squatting beside the next window. She listened.
She could hear voices.
Leaning closer with her gun held up high against the wall, she tried to make out if she heard Edith. But only a man’s voice came through loud and clear. “It’s just the little sister and the old man. Try not to hit the girl, but kill ‘em both if you have to.”
Emma shuddered, and then leaned in to take a peek. The same two men she’d seen with Trunk at the rest area were with him now. The biggest one had a bandage wrapped around his massive arm; his wound was bleeding through. A patch on his leather vest said, “Smalls.”
While Trunk paced to the screen door and back to the den doorway, the other two men were stuffing ammo and bathroom supplies into bags; soap, shampoo and other things they could find. “Hurry up!” he said.
Suddenly, a shotgun blast thundered through the house; Emma flinched and ducked down low, and then popped up to look in the window.
The men grabbed their bags and ran straight out the front door, and seconds later Elmer was standing in the den, a curl of black smoke twirling out the end of his shotgun. He’d come through the back door.
Emma ran, weaving around Edith’s rose bushes, a huge Oak, and then around the corner, trying to catch them out front.
It was too late. They were already out and halfway through the yard, heading for Elmer’s truck.
She gave chase around the other side of the house, took a knee, and aimed, already knowing it was too far. She wished she’d grabbed one of the rifles they’d confiscated from the men on the road, instead.
Dirt flew up around the men as her shots fell short. They ran like their asses were on fire, jumping into the truck—two in the back and one in the front—and took off, kicking up a cloud of dirt, the muffler screaming behind them.
Elmer ran up beside her. “Cover your ears!”
Emma turned away, doing her best to cover both ears while holding her gun in one hand. Elmer fired again, spraying the driveway, and sending up a shower of gravel and dust.
40
Tucker raced to Sarah’s door, his dirt-covered T-shirt stretched out in front of him like a make-shift bag. Four cans of infant formula clanked and splashed against each other as he ran.
Jake and Grayson jogged behind him, every inch of their faces other than around their eyes covered in red dirt. Their arms, hands, and especially their clothes were filthy. Grayson carried a bag of diapers in one hand, and the other was held against his jaw, every step bringing him more pain. Jake juggled a dozen jars of baby food in the front of his own shirt.
The three men ran up to the door, and after a quick rap of the knuckles, a haggard-looking Sarah swung it wide open, with Sammi held up against her shoulder.
If not for the stick-like limbs, Tucker would have thought Sarah was holding a five-pound sack of potatoes. Sammi’s patchy skin was sallow, laying in tiny rows of wrinkles at the elbows and ankles, as though wearing a suit that was too big.
The tiny bundle wasn’t moving… not even a breath could be detected.
Tucker’s heart raced and time stood still.