Grace crept closer to where he was hidden, trying to figure out if she should go for his head with the oar from the left or the right. Well, if she did it from the right, he’d collapse to the left and into the building, maybe hitting his head there. If she did it from the left, he’d keel over to the right and land on top of his own guns. So, hitting from the right-hand side is the winner. The closer she got to Smith, the harder her heart beat in her chest. The slower her breaths got until she didn’t even think she was breathing anymore. She was almost on top of him when he shifted just a little, reaching for his automatic rifle to prop up on one of the barrels.
Grace lay the axe down at her feet silently and lifted the oar up in both hands, using it like she would a golf club, she swung it from right to left across the back of Smith’s head. He fell to his left against the building, seemingly stunned with what just happened. Grace could see that his eyes were closed, body laying in an unnatural position. She backed up a few steps, thinking he was unconscious. She was wrong.
Smith's eyes opened abruptly and through a haze of hatred and anger, he lunged for Grace. She was unprepared for him to be alert so quickly, but she was already picking up the axe when he tried catching her around her waist. Grace was able to side step him for a second and she screamed bloody murder. She turned around with the intent of running towards those bobbing lights in the distance, but she didn't get far. Smith found his footing and obviously his police training kicked in. He tackled Grace to the ground, laying on top of her and knocking the wind out of her for a few moments.
In those moments, he was able to harshly and painfully turn her to her back, straddling her hips and stomach with his legs. His hands were around her throat, his face mottled red with exertion and anger. Grace would never forget the manic look in his eyes, the dilated pupils, the glazed look of pure evil. He could have passed for an actual demon Grace thought, detached from the reality of what was happening to her. His fingers gripped her throat, becoming tighter and tighter. He held her down with one hand and reached into his pocket with the other. She saw the reflection of moonlight off the knife blade. The same knife that probably slit the throat of Fiona. The same knife that killed countless other women. The knife that could have easily killed Gertie or Kresley. But it wasn't going to kill her. Damned if she was going to let him take her out like that, away from her son, away from Walker, away from her sisters.
Grace found some strength within her and took one of her hands off of where she gripped his, trying to get him to loosen his hold on her throat. She took her two first fingers and brought them up to his eyes. She dug as far deep as she could into his eye sockets with her nails, trying to at least gain leverage to get away from him. She must have hit her mark because his hold on her throat lessened so she could draw in breath again and he backed off her a little bit, crying out in pain. She could see blood running down both of his cheeks. She took the opportunity and kicked at his stomach as hard as she could with her now freed leg and foot. He skidded back a few feet from her, still upright, but not being able to open his eyes confused him on direction. Grace let out another blood curdling scream to get someone's attention, all the while trying to run as far from Smith as she could. He grabbed at where he thought her legs were, and Grace was able to dodge him, but she wasn't looking where she was going and tripped over something in the grass. She turned from her stomach and noticed Smith's knife in the dirt. She grabbed it as she felt his evil hands take hold of her waist. He flipped her again to her back, put his knee on top of her chest.
Smith's eyes were open, blood still running down. "You bitch! You'll pay for that."
Grace screamed again and as he leaned down towards her, Grace could see the intent in his eyes. He was about to end her life. She knew it. She took the knife she had in her hand and plunged it towards Smith's head and face. He looked up a moment too late and the blade landed in his throat near his jugular. He tried to latch onto the knife with his hand to take control of it, but Grace tried to twist the blade at the last moment and saw the pain come across his face. In the same breath, Grace heard a gunshot and looked up at Smith. It all happened as if she were viewing things outside her body. One minute she was fighting for her life, the next Smith was trying to take control of the knife. And the next a bullet hole had been created in Smith's forehead. Blood sprayed across Grace's face as she watched the impact of the bullet enter the front and exit the back of his skull. Smith's face went from rage to nothing in the space of a heart beat. His eyes open, staring blankly, he slumped over on top of Grace, laying on her and pushing her into the dirt and grass. She struggled to get him off of her. He was too
