Page 89 of The Same Flesh
The muzzle swinging toward Jem.
He threw the keys like he was launching a patented Jem Berger fastball.
The yard had looked perfect for playing catch.
It was a beautiful throw.The keys hit the man in the face, and even with the mask for padding, the impact made the man shout.The barrel of the rifle dropped, forgotten for a moment, and Jem closed the last few feet between them.
He had the barrette in one hand because this was killing work, and as they went down together, he drove the sharpened piece of metal into the man’s side—over and over again.He’d had a foster mom who thought she was going to make all their clothes, and he remembered her sewing machine, how fast the needle had gone up and down, up and down.In and out.She’d put it through her thumb, and she didn’t make them any more clothes.
Up and down.
In and out.
Rolling.
Dust in his mouth.
Weeds slashing his face, scratching the back of his neck.
The weight of the other man’s body.
Jem’s hand was wet.
And then the pain caught up with the man, and he screamed.
A backward elbow caught Jem in the jaw, and the world went negative.He fought through it, grappling with the man, but the man landed a kick to Jem’s thigh, and the impact sent Jem onto his side.He lost his grip.
The sky was the blue of a cereal bowl.The air smelled like grass.
Jem scrambled to his feet, spinning—limping, his thigh a dead weight—
A gunshot cracked the air.
The wolf was running around the corner of the barn.
And Tean had the rifle.
“Shoot him!”Jem dragged himself toward Tean.“Shoot him!”
Tean followed the man with the gun, his hand loose around the trigger.But he didn’t fire.
With a cry of frustration, Jem yanked the rifle away from Tean.His hand was covered in blood, but that only registered at a distance.He set the stock against his shoulder, aimed—
And the wolf was gone.Disappeared around the barn.
Flames danced along the wooden structure.With a long crack, something gave way, and the roof began to fall.It tilted inward at one end.Sparks spun up.And then there was a single, loud, snap, and the roof crashed in.
Jem staggered sideways, gun still glued to his shoulder, working his way around the barn, ignoring how he had to drag his leg.Even at a distance, the heat off the burning barn was intense, and he wanted to turn his face away, put up a hand.But he didn’t.Not yet.
Nothing on the other side of the barn.
Nobody.
They were gone.
20
Tean had enough presence of mind to wipe the blood off the gun before putting it in the Subaru’s trunk.He got Jem back to the car, Jem leaning on him the whole way, and then they had to drive until they had service on their phones.Jem made him stop after a couple of miles.He got out, limped to the drainage ditch, and pitched something sidearm into a culvert.
