The Wrong Family(72)
Juno knew deep down that she should have left this house when she had the chance. Now here she was, going deeper into the shit rather than out of it. But wasn’t that the story of her life? Out on parole but in a different type of prison. But the crawl space is safe, she told herself. She knew it well, and Dakota had never been in it before, so she had the advantage, even if her body was screaming.
She dropped onto her hands and knees and immediately began crawling. She didn’t need light to know where she was going, but Dakota would. She heard him swearing behind her and then the thud of his feet as he hit the floor. He was big, that would slow him down some, but he also had the gun. As her hands slid over dirt and gravel, she thought of Winnie, tied up and facedown on the floor, still oblivious to Juno’s existence, still confused about what was happening to her brother. That woman would be clueless until the day she died, and for Sam’s sake, Juno would do her best to make sure that day would be a long way away. She thought of Samuel—Sam—and their short interactions, which had meant so much to her. And she thought of Nigel; he was dead. As she crawled forward, a piece of broken glass sliced her palm, but she left it where it was, hoping it would have at Dakota, too. She didn’t remember breaking anything—had the glass been here all along?
She couldn’t pause to wipe the blood that was running from the cut above her eyebrow, so she was completely blind in one eye and her hand was stinging.
And then the pop came: a loud bang, and pressure on her shoulder. She fell flat on her face, breathing dirt up her nose and gasping for air. Something had hit her, but not a bullet, a rock maybe; the bullet had hit the ground and sent debris flying. He shot at me, Juno thought incredulously. That bumbling idiot shot at me. But the bumbling idiot was still coming after her; she could hear his grunts and his hands slapping at the ground. She crawled faster still, toward the dirt pile she rarely ventured past. The back end of the space still creeped her out. She felt something hit her in the back of the head, but she didn’t stop. And then a hand was on her ankle, yanking her backward. Her sweatshirt rode up as he pulled her along the uneven ground, and Juno felt something sharp stick into her breast. She yelled, she screamed and kicked, and, clawing on the ground, she wriggled away from him. She scooted a few feet ahead when she heard him curse. She scrambled over a ledge of dirt that rose so high to the ceiling of the crawl space she had to shimmy past it on her belly. He couldn’t follow her back here, could he? And then she was rolling down the incline, dirt coating the blood on her face like a mask. She didn’t have far to roll. She came to a stop at the bottom, lying on her stomach and spitting mud out of her mouth. She lay suddenly still, listening, deciding how far away Dakota’s grunts were. “You’re so fucking slow!” she called out. “No wonder your wife left you.”
That did it. “Who are you, you fucking bitch?” But she could hear the wobble of fear in his voice. Men always called names when they were scared.
“What were you going to do, Dakota? Kill your twin sister and then yourself?”
There was a shocked silence, during which she could hear him hammering out breaths. He was moving faster now, and if she wanted to stay alive, at least for a little while longer, she’d have to move.
She began scooting forward on her belly, using her elbows to pull herself along. She was almost there, to the little gravesite. She’d come back here only once, and that had been enough. She didn’t remember what she’d been doing back there, maybe boredom, but she’d found the remains, obviously of an animal. It was just a scattering of small bones, but it had creeped her out enough to never return. The earth dipped down and circled around the mound, but Dakota wouldn’t know that. He was almost to the rise now; he’d be able to look into the valley Juno had rolled into, but he wouldn’t be able to see her in the dark. He’ll probably still shoot, she thought. Once her feet were pulled to safety she reached into her pocket and pulled out what she’d taken from the kitchen drawer; then, she began moving quietly forward. Juno rounded the corner as Dakota pulled back from the rise. She knew she wasn’t where he thought she’d be. He’d need to turn around if he wanted to keep looking for her. She eyed the gun, which was in his right hand, pressed to the dirt as he grunted in surprise at not seeing her. He’d be able to turn around any second, and he’d see her there. If she didn’t act, she would die as Terry Russel had, at the hands of a sick, angry man. Juno didn’t like those terms.
She didn’t wait: lunging forward, she fired the Taser she’d swiped from the kitchen drawer into his neck. The two-pronged barbs penetrated the skin near Dakota’s pulse, delivering a kick of voltage that made him convulse. In the small space Juno wasn’t able to move in time; Dakota’s left arm swung out and Juno saw stars for a second or two as it made contact with her head. She righted herself, her vision swimming. She felt frantically along the ground for the gun, her fingers scraping at dirt. Juno had used a Taser before, she knew what happened next. He was strong; he’d recover fast. She figured she had less than five seconds to find the gun and shoot Dakota if she didn’t want to die. He roared as he lunged for her, but Juno didn’t shrink back; her hands swept the dirt in frantic arcs. Then her fingertips touched the cool tip of the barrel, and relief briefly found its place in her mind. Before she could get a good grip, Dakota grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him, dragging her body painfully over the ground. He tried to get to his feet while holding onto Juno’s arm, but his head connected with the roof of the crawl space with a sickening crack. Dakota was temporarily stunned, loosened his hold on her arm. She rolled because it was the only thing she could do, and she’d seen alligators subdue their prey that way. She barely heard his cry of pain over the roaring panic in her own head. Her right hand found the gun. Juno wrapped her fingers around the barrel, pulling it toward her chest. She had just enough time to roll onto her back and point the gun upward. She pulled the trigger.