Cora in the lead, they started walking over the weathered planks of the old dock. Abilene felt tired and stiff and achy. It would’ve been nice to rest a while longer.
Miles and miles.
At least we’re getting out of here.
At the end of all those miles, there would be a motel. Eventually. A motel. A cool, soft bed.
If only we’d done this last night.
Helen would still be…
A plank gave out beneath Cora’s foot with a sound like a cracking whip and she gasped ‘Fuck!’ and pitched forward, her foot trapped. Her outthrust arms crashed the shotgun against the dock. Crying out in pain, she slammed down on top of it.
As the others rushed forward, she pulled her fingers out from under the gun. They were red and shaking. She wiggled them a bit, apparently to see whether they still worked. Otherwise, she didn’t move.
She lay there, left leg thrown out to the side, right leg straight out behind her but twisted, caught at the ankle between two boards.
Vivian stepped over the gap, knelt at Cora’s side, and stroked her head. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Just great.’
‘You’ll be all right.’
‘Sure. Damn it!’
Abilene and Finley crouched over the opening. The heel of Cora’s shoe was wedged under the board behind the one that had broken.
‘We’ll have it out in a second,’ Abilene said.
‘Be careful.’
Finley let out a huff. ‘Yeah. God knows, we might get careless and bust it.’
‘Very funny,’ she muttered. She flinched when Abilene eased her knee sideways. She let out a long groan when Finley, holding on just above the top of the sock, pulled her foot out from under the edge of the plank and lifted it free.
Around Cora’s ankle, the sock bulged like an inflated balloon. Vivian, watching, wrinkled her nose.
Finley whistled and said, ‘Nasty.’
Feeling sick, Abilene said, ‘I hope it’s just a sprain.’
‘Don’t bother,’ Cora told her. ‘It’s broken.’
‘So much for hiking to civilization,’ Finley said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Cora rolled over slowly and sat up. She scowled at her misshapen ankle. ‘Just great.’
‘Does it hurt much?’ Vivian asked.
‘It hurts like shit.’
‘Now what’ll we do?’ Abilene asked.
‘Sit here and wait for it to heal,’ Finley suggested.
Ignoring her, Cora said, ‘I guess I can use the shotgun as a crutch. But we’d better start by stabilizing my damn ankle. I don’t want it flopping around. We’ll need some splints.’
Abilene stretched out flat on the pier. She looked down through the gap and saw the splintered ends of the plank that had snapped under Cora’s weight. Still nailed at the top, the two sections of board drooped toward the water. She grabbed one, pulled it up, and jerked it from side to side. The nails squawked as they were tom from their moorings.
She stood the slat upright. With Batty’s knife, she split it down the middle. She broke each board across her knee. When she was done, she had two usable pieces of wood, each a couple of inches wide and nearly a foot in length.
‘Perfect,’ Cora said.
Grinning, Finley said, ‘Hickok, you’re a regular Boy Scout.’
‘Taking the makeshift splints from Abilene, Cora pressed them against both sides of her ankle. ‘Now we need to bind them in place.’
‘Belts,’ Finley suggested. She lifted the hanging front of her shirt, looked down at her waistband, and frowned.
‘You took it off to tie up Batty,’ Abilene reminded her.
‘Oh, yeah. So where the… jeez, did I leave it there?’
‘I guess so.’
‘Well, shit.’
‘That’s all right,’ Abilene said. ‘I’ve still got mine.’ She unbuckled it.
As she pulled it from the loops of her denim skirt, Vivian said, ‘Batty’s got my shoes, Finley’s belt…’
‘Improving his wardrobe,’ Finley said.
‘Cora’s tire iron. Anything of yours?’ she asked, looking at Abilene.
‘Not unless you count the water bottle.’
‘The old bat’s got quite a collection of stuff,’ Finley said.
‘That’s what I’m thinking,’ Vivian said.
‘While you’re thinking,’ Abilene told her, ‘give me your belt.’ Vivian unfastened it and pulled it from the loops of her white shorts. ‘Can’t he use that kind of stuff for casting spells? You know, personal possessions of people?’ She passed the belt to Abilene.
‘Here we go with hexes again,’ Cora said.
As she buckled her belt to Vivian’s, Abilene said, ‘They use things like fingernail trimmings and hair. I’ve never heard of working black magic with someone’s shoe… or tire iron.’
‘It’s not my tire iron, anyway,’ Cora pointed out ‘Came from a rent-a-car, remember?’
‘But you were carrying it.’
‘Could we just forget all this curse shit? We’ve got real things to worry about, okay? Like, for instance, my ankle.’
‘Should we leave your shoe on?’ Abilene asked.
‘Yeah. It’ll give me some extra support.’
While Cora held the splints in place, Abilene wound the connected belts around them. She overlapped the leather end to secure it, then worked her way downward, wrapped the strap a couple of times under her heel, worked her way back up the ankle and shoved the end buckle between two tight layers of leather.
‘Pretty good,’ Cora said.
‘It might come undone after a while, but…’
‘As long as it’ll get me back to the lodge. Plenty of stuff in the car we can use to bandage it better. Let’s get moving.’
Vivian lifted Cora from behind while Finley and Abilene pulled her up by the arms. Braced on her left leg, she tucked the shoulder stock of the shotgun under her right armpit and put much of her weight on it. With Abilene supporting her from the other side, she turned around.
‘We’ll go ahead,’ Vivian said. ‘Try to step where we step.’ She put an arm around Finley. Side by side, they matched strides and stepped together onto each plank. Abilene and Cora followed them, Abilene struggling to hold Cora steady, Cora hopping along on her good leg, the shotgun barrels clumping each time she planted them against the wood.
‘You doing okay?’ Cora asked.
‘Just a little nervous.’
