MacKenzie Fire(46)

She crouches lower and I lose some of the force in my voice. “Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?”

“You brought a gun?” Ian turns his head to look at me. He sounds confused.

The cat takes a slow, slinky step towards us, lowering herself really, really close to the ground. Her stomach is on the snow. I saw my neighbor’s cat do this once, right before he attacked a butterfly. He moved so fast the poor thing never saw it coming. I don’t want to be like that butterfly.

I point the gun at the cougar and try to imagine myself pulling the trigger. My hand is shaking so hard right now I could possibly hit Ian and he’s still standing next to me. Efforts to straighten my hand out go nowhere. “Go away, cougar!” I yell, my voice bordering on hysterical. “I’m not kidding!”

“Give me that,” Ian says, reaching for the pistol.

I shove him with my other arm, knowing we don’t have time for him to play the man-hero with me. “Get off! It’s my gun!”

It’s at this point that things go a little blurry for me.

A seriously vicious cat scream comes from somewhere in front of me.

I pee some more.

Then I’m hit by a mini-bus.

At least it felt like a mini-bus. I fall backwards, and I’m pretty sure Ian goes with me. My head klonks against something really hard, making me see stars. A headache blossoms from there.

Something heavy is on me, and the sounds — the only word I can use to describe them is unholy — fill the air around us. I can’t see anything but a blur of color and motion sprinkled amongst the dancing, head-banger stars that were floating above my face, but one thing is very clear: someone is about to die. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be me.

I pee a lot more.





Chapter Twenty





MY FISTS SQUEEZE AS I try to fend off my attacker, and a loud shot rings out.

Snow flies up blinding me, and someone punches me in the gut, forcing all the air out of me.

I wheeze as I try to catch my breath. The stars are back in place of my vision when the oxygen isn’t enough.

A heavy weight comes off me, and snow flies into my face again, freezing it, while something on my arm burns like a bejeezus. I can finally breathe again, though, so the stars go away. Unfortunately, the headache does not.

“Gimme that!” Ian yells, taking something heavy out of my hand. Was I carrying the log? When did I get the log from Ian? No, wait … it’s my gun.

I hear two more gunshots and then mostly silence.

At least there’s no more of that crazy screaming. Now there’s just heavy breathing. I’m not longer panicked because I’ve decided I’m probably dead, or nearly so, and it’s not as awful as I expected it to be. My lungs are finally functioning again, but unfortunately, my bladder is no longer up to the task. I have completely wet my pants. Not just a little but a lot. Normally I’d be embarrassed over something like that, but my head hurts too much to care. Besides, I’m going to die anyway. What’s a little pee-pant problem in the grand scheme of things?

When I open my eyes, Ian’s face is hovering above mine.

“Hi,” I say, a little dizzy and definitely dazed. Everything is so bright around me. Maybe I’m not going to die.

“You okay?” He glances down at something in the snow near me.

“I think so. Aside from peeing my pants, anyway.” I frown as I try to move my arm. “Something burns.” Since death is supposed to bring relief from pain, I’m pretty sure I’m not on the death’s doorstep now. If I had any more pee in me, I’d let it go now out of relief, but I don’t.

“Let me help you up.” He leans down and puts his arm behind my back, digging it into the snow.

“Where’s the lion?” I ask, sitting up and looking around. Snow is covering my face and dripping from my eyelashes. I blink a few times to see better. There’s red in the snow around us. Blood. I try not to let it send me into a panic. Who’s blood is that? Is it Ian’s?

I scan Ian’s body to see if he’s been shot or bitten. There are some red smears on the front of his coat. “Are you okay?” I sit up straighter and hold my palm out at his chest. “Did I shoot you?” My heart sinks as my fingers move to cover my mouth. Please, God, don’t let me have shot him!

“No. Not me.” Ian stares at my side.

I follow his gaze and see my arm lying there limp. The thick camouflage jacket I’m wearing has been torn and there’s blood coming from the tear. I can feel myself go pale as I get dizzy again. My head is throbbing with pain.

“Did I shoot myself?” Oh my god! How colossally clumsy! Ian will never let me live that down. And the scar will be hideous. Ugh. Why did I think buying a gun was a good idea?!

Ian almost smiles. “No. Not you either.” He points at my arm. “You shot the cougar who did that to you. I think. Can I look at it?”

I nod wordlessly. This is some kind of weird nightmare I’m having. No way is this real life. My vision goes burry for a few seconds before focusing again. There are trees everywhere. And snow. And red. And Ian. He looks worried.

“Let’s get back to the truck first. It’s warmer there.” He puts his shoulder under my armpit and lifts me to my feet. Then without any warning, he swoops me into his arms and carries me through the snow like a giant baby.