Rules of Survival(22)

“Fight?” I almost choked. There were plenty of things scattered in the immediate area to be used as makeshift weaponry, but he seemed to be forgetting one integral problem. “Are you nuts? Have you forgotten our”—I jingled the shackle chains—“situation?”

“I don’t mean fight, fight. I mean, we need to take them out. One by one.” He tugged me around the tire pile, and we crouched low.

A moment later, chain guy, smiling guy, and ponytail came into view. They walked cautiously through the yard, spread several feet apart as they canvassed all the major points. Anyplace that would have made for an obvious hiding spot. When they stopped a few feet from where we were hidden behind the large pile of tires, my heart started to pound.

“Jack and Maria went around back. They’re going to work their way forward,” chain guy said. He turned to ponytail. “You and Josh take the rest of the main drag. Fan out to the west when you’re done. I’ll take the east side. We’ll all meet back at the main gate—with the girl. Remember, he wants her alive, if at all possible.”

Alive if at all possible.

“What about the other one?” the one he’d called Josh asked.

Chain guy narrowed his eyes, fury dripping from every word. He brought his hand to his neck and rubbed the spot where we’d caught him with the chain. “Kill him.”

They split up. We watched them go before extracting ourselves as quietly as possible from the pile. “Okay. So who should we hit first?” I whispered.

Shaun nodded in the direction ponytail and Josh had gone, and we started to follow.

They moved fast through the yard and weren’t very quiet. Even though it was almost dark, they were easy to follow because they seemed to only be searching halfheartedly. Every once in a while they’d stop so Josh could light up a cigarette, take a few puffs, then toss it to the ground. Each time he did this, Shaun seemed to get angrier and angrier. If his hand tightened around mine much more, I was going to lose a finger.

“This is crap,” ponytail said finally. “My vote is to walk the rest of the lot, then head to the gate. Screw it. We get paid either way.”

Josh took a long drag from his cigarette, then puffed out several rings of smoke. “Not a chance. There’s a ten grand bonus to the ones who actually find the kid. I’m not passing that up because you’re a lazy f*cker.”

They started walking again. We’d taken shelter behind a teetering pile of old furniture. There was a couch with two matching armchairs, several old refrigerators, and at least three dozen assorted dining room chairs all in different states of decay. Shaun bent down, searching the ground. A moment later he stood, holding a disgusting, mud-covered baseball. With a wink, he threw it farther down the lane. It smashed into the windshield of a rusted black van, causing both men to jump like little girls.

“What the hell was that?” ponytail yelped.

Josh only shrugged and lit another cigarette. “If you’re so curious, go check it out.”

With the flip of his middle finger, ponytail stalked off toward the row of cars ahead. “I’m not sharing that ten grand with you, man.”

“We need to move fast,” Shaun said. Before I knew what he was doing—much less had time to protest—he swooped down and grabbed a broken table leg from the ground by his feet and charged around the corner of the pile with me tripping awkwardly behind.

“What the fu—”

Shaun didn’t waste time. He swung his wooden weapon with such force that it made a swishing sound as it sliced through the air. It connected with the side of ponytail’s face, the awful cracking sound echoing in my ears. There was a splatter of red, tiny droplets of blood flicking out in all directions, and the cigarette flew from his mouth as he tilted sideways. He hit the ground hard—out cold.

Shaun stood over him. Just staring. There was such hatred in his eyes. So much fury that I held my breath, sure he would kick the man even though he was obviously down for the count. But he didn’t. Instead, he stepped to the right and stomped down hard on the still-burning cigarette. Grinding it furiously into the ground, he glanced up the path in the direction Ponytail had gone. “Keep moving.”

We started forward and I fought back a shiver. Shaun’s expression had changed. The serious set of his jaw and determined glint in his eyes was now fierce. Dark. He walked with an underlying anger that seemed to be the driving force behind each movement. It was weird, but I could almost see it radiating off him in waves.

Ahead of us, Ponytail stepped onto the path from between the row of old cars. He hesitated when he saw us, looking from one end of the yard to the other like he wasn’t sure we were real. I hesitated, too—or at least, I tried.

Shaun marched forward, the right corner of his lip lifting with a wicked grin. Ponytail never had a chance to move. Shaun lashed out, the wooden leg connecting first with his midsection, then again a moment later with his shoulder. Smiling guy wasn’t smiling any longer. He stumbled away, recovering, and made a swipe for us. I was tossed and pulled like a rag doll, and if it hadn’t been for Shaun yanking hard on the shackle chain, Ponytail would have grabbed me with ease.

Ponytail, recognizing that Shaun was the real obstacle, lunged for him. He landed a solid blow to his gut, which Shaun returned with another to the other man’s midsection. He doubled over, wind knocked from his lungs, and Shaun finished him off. A knee to the balls and the man finally hit the ground. When he went down, Shaun kicked him again. In fact, he kept kicking him. Over and over.