Run, Rose, Run(100)

Ethan put his hands up and slowly turned. But he turned the long way around, to his right, so that he could see the kitchen door and the rifle he’d leaned against the wall next to it. Maybe it was because the Winchester was the same color as the wood paneling, or maybe it was impossible for Hobbs or his flunky to imagine someone having a weapon and not using it, but neither man had noticed the gun. Ethan figured it was eight feet away from him. Doable, he thought.

Finally Ethan rotated so that he was facing the front door. “I can’t open this with my hands in the air,” he told them.

“Jesus,” Hobbs said. “Open it, Rick.”

As Rick came toward him, Ethan’s right hand dropped down and he yanked the knob as hard as he could. The door went smashing into Rick’s face. At the same time, Ethan dove backward toward the rifle, landing hard on his side. He grabbed the gun and rolled onto his back in one smooth motion, and then pulled the trigger and shot Gus Hobbs.

Or…he shot where Gus Hobbs had been.

The bullet punched a hole in the wall as Hobbs disappeared around the corner. Ethan swung the gun toward Rick as he got to his feet. “Run or I’ll shoot,” he growled.

Rick hesitated. Ethan fired, and the bullet grazed Rick’s biceps. The man needed no further encouragement to leave.

Then Ethan, alone in the living room, inched toward where Hobbs had gone. Crouching low, he peered through the doorway. He saw a short, empty hall and a back door flung wide open.

Hugging the wall, Ethan walked forward until the yard came into view. In the moonlight he could see patchy grass, a utility trailer, a shed, and a clothesline with a few yellowing towels on it. A moment later, Gus Hobbs’s face and gun peered around the corner of the shed.

“Want to count to three and shoot each other?” Hobbs drawled.

Ethan fired, aiming right above Hobbs’s head. The bullet hit the shed’s overhanging roof. “Where is she?” he yelled.

Hobbs, who’d disappeared behind the shed, didn’t answer.

Ethan dropped the rifle and jumped down the steps into the yard. He raced around to the other side of the shed and grabbed Hobbs by the legs as he was trying to run into the woods. They both went down hard in the dirt. Hobbs’s gun spun out of his hand and landed out of his reach.

Hobbs kicked at Ethan’s chest but Ethan held on, hauling himself up along Hobbs’s body until he was astride him. He pushed Hobbs’s face into the dirt.

“That kid from the gas station found her—Wade,” Hobbs gasped. “Said she hit her head, passed out cold, then woke up cross-eyed and saying my name.” He gave a kick and then lay still. “The stupid little prick brought her here. She always caused more trouble than she was worth, so I did what I had to do. Shit, man, that hurts!”

“You have no idea what hurts means,” Ethan said. “Where is Rose McCord?”

Hobbs started to laugh—a wild, unhinged laugh that sent chills down Ethan’s spine. “I threw her damn body in the cellar,” he said.





Chapter

92



A pit opened in Ethan’s stomach. Her body? He got up and yanked Hobbs by the belt until he was standing.

The man reeled, coughing and cackling. “She deserved it,” Hobbs said, rubbing the dirt from his face with his shirt.

If Ethan hadn’t dropped the rifle back by the steps, he would’ve shot Hobbs for real. “Take me to her now.”

Hobbs straightened up. “If you say so.”

Dread and fear made Ethan detach; he felt like he was watching himself walk through the yard behind Hobbs, who was still laughing softly but maniacally. Ethan saw himself pick up the fallen gun as Hobbs went to the cellar doors and heaved them open.

“Have at it,” Hobbs said.

“You go in first,” Ethan heard himself say.

Hobbs cursed and descended the ladder. Ethan followed close behind him, keeping the tip of the rifle aimed between Hobbs’s shoulder blades.

The ceiling was low, and Ethan couldn’t see anything. “Light,” he said.

He heard Hobbs fumbling around, and then a flashlight clicked on. The beam was weak and flickering. It swept the perimeter of the room, revealing dirt, piles of gravel, and debris.

Then finally the beam found a human form. AnnieLee was curled in a corner, her hands and feet tied. Her eyes were closed and there was tape over her mouth.

“AnnieLee,” Ethan gasped.

Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified.

Ethan felt himself slam back into his body, back into reality. Dear God, he thought, she’s alive. His knees almost buckled.

But they didn’t. He turned toward Hobbs, who was heading for the ladder. Ethan grabbed him by the collar and spun him around. Hobbs went to swing at him with the heavy flashlight, but Ethan ducked. Low and at close range, Ethan threw a vicious uppercut, tightening his fist right on impact. His knuckles slammed into Hobbs’s chin with a sickening crack. Hobbs’s head snapped back and hit the ladder. Then Hobbs careened sideways and dropped, unconscious. The flashlight hit the ground and went out.

Ethan didn’t bother to hunt for it in the dark. He just crawled to AnnieLee, calling her name over and over, even though she couldn’t answer. When he got to her, his desperate hands found her face and then her shoulders, and he pulled her to a sitting position, pulled her against his wildly pounding heart. His eyes stung and he wiped at them—he was crying. “You’re okay, you’re okay. Tell me you’re okay,” he begged as he tugged the tape from her mouth.