Afraid

alive!”

Streng’s smile died on his face.

“Fran, you and Duncan up the pipe, now.”

“Sheriff—”

“If Mathison didn’t die, the others might still be alive, too.”

Fran nodded, hurrying Duncan to the hole. He began to climb, Mathison perched on his shoulder. Fran got in after him.

“We’ll pull you up as soon as we get to the top.”

Streng nodded and said, “Go!” Then he undid the knot on his chest and tied the rope around Woof’s chest.

“Take care of them, boy,” he said.

Woof licked his face and then yelped as he got jerked off his feet and up the pipe.

Streng took the Taurus out of his pants and looked in the cylinder. No bullets. He checked his man purse and found two left.

One for Santiago. One for Taylor.

He’d be damned if he let those creatures touch his family.

Streng set the gun in his lap and waited.

Santiago came in first.

“Hello, Sheriff. You’re not looking very well.”

Santiago held a large-caliber semiauto in one hand and a knife in the other.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am that the EMP didn’t kill you,” Streng said.

“Kill me?” Santiago smiled. “It liberated me. I’m a free man now, Sheriff. I don’t have to follow orders anymore.”

“Good. Then you can leave us alone.”

Santiago laughed.

“This isn’t about finishing the mission. This is about revenge. Your brother hurt me, Sheriff. The body armor stopped the bullets, but I’m all broken inside. And you broke my cheekbone.”

“I hope it’s painful,” Streng said.

“It’s very painful. And the only thing that helps when I’m feeling this way is to take out my pain on someone else. Like you and your friends. Your suffering will go on for days. I’ll make you scream so much your throat will go raw. You’ll beg me for—”

In one smooth motion Streng picked up the Taurus and shot Santiago above the nose. The Magnum round blew the entire back of his head off, shutting the son of a bitch up for good.

The killer crumpled, and Streng used his remaining foot to push himself over to the body, anxious to reach the dropped gun.

“Sheriff!” Fran called down from the pipe.

Streng ignored her, concentrating on the semiautomatic. If he got it in time, he might be able to end this once and for—

The first bullet hit Streng in the stomach. The next two punched into his chest.

Streng fell off the chair, onto his back, the Taurus flying across the room. Streng couldn’t breathe, and he began to shiver even though it wasn’t cold.

Taylor walked over and stared down at Streng. He was smiling. Streng reached up behind him, searching for Santiago’s gun. His fingers touched something else instead.

“You …” Streng said.

“Yes, Sheriff. It’s me.”

“You … have … got …”

Taylor leaned down, grabbed Streng by his shirt. It didn’t hurt; Streng was past the point of feeling pain. But he knew he had only seconds before he died, and he really needed to get this in.

“You’ve …” Streng whispered, “… got … something …”

“Speak up, old man.”

Streng smiled, blood bubbling up from his lips, but he managed to say, “In … your … eye …”

Then he brought up the knife he’d taken from Santiago’s hand and stabbed Taylor in the face.

• • •

Taylor flinched in time, and the knife missed his eye socket and glanced off his cheekbone. He brought up a hand to feel for damage and found he could touch his teeth through the new hole in his cheek.

Taylor screamed in pain and rage and began to stomp on the sheriff, which did nothing, because the man had already died. He stormed over to the sink, pressed a towel to his face, and began to tremble. Then he set his gun on the countertop and automatically reached for the Charge capsules. Taylor broke one under his nose and—

—nothing. It didn’t relieve the pain. Didn’t calm his mind. Didn’t focus his thoughts. Taylor threw the capsules onto the floor, made a fist, and punched a cabinet, splitting the wooden door in half. His brain was a mess of signals, each one telling him to do something different. It used to get like that sometimes, before Dr. Stubin put the Chip in. He couldn’t figure out what to do next, but then the answer appeared in his head and blinked like a beacon.

Kill them. Kill them all.

Taylor picked up the gun and raced for the closet. He shoved his upper body into the PVC pipe and began to crawl. His cheek continued to bleed, making his hands slip on the plastic, and that only fueled his rage. He’d kill that fucker Josh first. Or maybe he’d just break his knees, so he could watch what Taylor did to the woman and the boy. From now on, his only mission objective, for the rest of his life, was Have Fun.

The outdoors smell hit Taylor, and he saw he was close to the exit. He stuck his head out of the hole and looked around, squinting at the darkness, seeking out his prey.

“Hey!”

Taylor craned his neck up and saw Fran standing above the opening, holding a very large rock.

Then everything went black.

Fran followed Josh’s directions and made a left, turning the Bronco onto Pine Glen Way. She had never been so tired in her life.

In the back seat, Duncan, Woof, and Mathison all slept in a big pile. To her right, Josh held her hand between turns.

“This is a dumb question,” Josh said, “But how are you doing?”

Fran pictured it happening once again—Taylor’s head coming out of the hole, her raising up the rock, smashing it onto his face. She hadn’t intended to get his attention first, but it seemed proper that he saw it coming. And it had to be her doing it. Not only because Josh couldn’t lift anything with his broken fingers, but because killing Taylor herself was the only way she’d ever be able to sleep again.

“I’m okay,” she answered.

“Really?”

“Really.”

She felt Josh hold her hand a little bit tighter.

“Adam’s house is at the next clearing. Right here.”

Fran turned and put the truck into park. Josh took the keys, and Fran carried Duncan around the house, down the pier, to Adam Pepper’s pontoon boat. Woof and Mathison tagged along. They boarded the boat, and Josh used the keys to start it while Fran untied the mooring lines.

Big Lake McDonald was still, quiet. A huge orange hunter’s moon reflected on the surface, and Fran felt herself get a little sleepy. She snuggled up to Duncan in the back seat while Josh guided them to the inlets, made his way into the river, and took it downstream.

“We have a full tank of gas, and we’re making good time,” Josh said. “The Chippewa River feeds a tributary right before the waterfall. We can take it to Eau Claire. They have a hospital.”