Page 50 of Kill For Me Kill For You
She wasn’t going to get to the back door either.
Amanda pivoted, her knee now a howl of agony, and she limped and hopped toward the open door of the tool shed. She leapt at the last moment, grabbing the handle on the inside of the door, pulling it shut behind her.
A second later, a loud bang shook the door as the axe smashed into it.
Amanda stood, her knee singing in agony as she pulled on the handle, keeping the door shut as Quinn bellowed and pulled from the other side. He got it open an inch.
Another inch.
He was strong, even with one hand. Amanda hauled harder on the handle, wedging her feet at the door and leaning back.
He let go and the door slammed shut.
Then another slam as a panel split at the top right-hand corner and Amanda saw the axe head poking through the wood. It wobbled, left and right, as Quinn worked it free, then it disappeared, and reappeared again with athunk, this time in the center of the door.
He’d be able to reach through and grab her with one more good hit.
Amanda looked around the tool shed. There were hacksaws, screwdrivers, two vices and in the corner exactly what she was looking for.
A ballpeen hammer.
The wood squeaked as Quinn withdrew the axe to wind up for another blow. Amanda reached for the hammer. It was still a good two feet away. She’d have to let go of the door to reach it.
Slam.
A hole the size of a head now appeared in the center of the door, and the axe slid free this time.
The sound of police sirens came to her. Still in the distance. But getting closer.
Amanda knew what she had to do. Tears and sweat covered her face. She wiped them away from her eyes. This had to be timed perfectly. Or she would end up dead.
Slam.
The axe stuck in the wooden door this time. She watched the blade wriggle, then, as it came free, she let go of the door, grabbed the hammer and took hold of the door handle again.
Slam.
The axe hit the central beam of the door and stayed there. Soon as she saw the blade being twisted, in an attempt to free it from the timber, she threw all her weight at the door.
As the door opened, the axe, still buried in the wood, was wrenched from Quinn’s grip. He turned toward her just as the hammer cracked into the side of his head. He went down without a sound.
The sirens were getting louder.
Quinn lay on his back, a thick stream of blood pouring from the side of his head. His right arm was soaked in his own blood, which looked as black as oil against the night sky.
He shook his head, sending blood cascading from the wound. He turned quickly away from her and began to get to his feet.
Amanda dropped the hammer, pulled the axe free from the door.
She held the bottom of the axe handle in her left hand, her right up toward the head.
When she looked back at her attacker, Quinn was standing still. He raised his right arm and with his free hand pulled the screwdriver out of his bicep with a spitting, venomous hiss from his throat.
‘I’m going to put this in your belly,’ he said, brandishing the screwdriver as he rushed for her, a maniacal, crazed, murderous look on his bloody face.
She couldn’t run.
There was no other way out. No choice.
