Dak twisted his head and saw the younger boy had fallen and was grabbing his ankle. The kid yelled in pain as his brother scurried around through the leaves and knelt down to check the injured appendage.
Dak clenched his jaw in frustration. The boy could wait another minute. One shot would drop Nate, then he could tend to the kid.
He turned and resumed his stance, peering down into the cornfield through the mini-scope. The target, however, was gone.
Nate had vanished.
Dak moved the rifle down toward the beginning of the tree line, then back again, but there was no sign of Nate anywhere.
Dak felt his pulse quicken. Panic wasn't in his vocabulary, but a sensation very close to it coursed through his veins.
He looked back to the boys. They were still on the ground, the older tending to the younger's wounded ankle.
Dak cursed their luck and took another glance down the slope to the edge of the forest. Still no sign of Nate.
He had two choices. The first was to traverse the ridge, reach the boys, and try to help them get to the top where Dak would regroup and defend their position. He didn't like that plan. It exposed him on his left flank. If he were lucky enough to make it to the boys, reaching the top of the hill would be slow and leave them vulnerable. They would be fortunate to get twenty yards before being shot in the back by Collier.
Dak decided to go with the second option.
It was a gamble, and his wager was the lives of the two boys on the hillside.
He would have to move fast, and while that could make him a more visible target, it was the play with the best chance for an optimal outcome.
He skidded down the slope, veering away from the line he'd taken before to circle around, creating a little more distance between himself and Nate—he hoped. He watched for roots and patches of dirt to land on, doing everything he could to remain silent as he skirted along the biggest of trees to keep out of sight.
Halfway down the slope, Dak caught something out of the corner of his eye. He stuck out his right hand and grabbed a tree trunk to halt his momentum.
Sixty yards away, he saw the hunter.
The forest camouflage jacket and matching pants made his body nearly impossible to spot, but the pale flesh of Nate's cheek stood out against the brown backdrop on the ground. The black rifle also gave away the enemy's position where he lay prostrate on the ground.
He was aiming at something up the hill.
Horror filled Dak's mind as he instantly realized Nate was about to shoot one of the boys.
He raised his rifle and shouted, fearful he might not get the shot off fast enough to keep Nate from firing.
"Looking for me, Nate?" The words blasted out of Dak's mouth loud enough to echo down into the valley.
Nate abruptly twisted with a full-body twitch, snapping his rifle away from one target to seek another.
Dak's weapon was already nestled in his shoulder, the sight climbing as he braced himself against the tree trunk. Through the sight, Nate looked almost panicked as he searched for the source of the voice.
Dak positioned the red dot on the mini-scope attached to Nate's rifle and squeezed the trigger just as Nate settled his weapon and prepared to shoot.
The rifle recoiled against the inside of Dak's shoulder. The loud boom thundered up over the ridge and throughout the valley, piercing the dying smoke around the farmhouse to reach all the way to the surrounding hillsides.
Nate's head slumped instantly to the ground, the rifle falling in limp hands.
Dak kept his sights on Nate for another second, his heart still pounding in his chest. He didn't breathe for ten seconds. Then he exhaled and sucked in a huge gulp of air.
He stepped out from behind the tree and moved toward the dead man, keeping the rifle aimed at Nate's head—or what was left of it. As he drew near, Dak saw that the bullet had gone through his eye and out the back of his skull.
Once he reached Nate's body, he kicked the rifle away out of habit. Not that there was any threat of the man suddenly rousing to life and using it.
Dak exhaled again as he looked down at his kill. He wondered what had driven Nate to such a place of evil, of absolute and total disaffectedness toward good or innocence.
Whatever the reason, whatever terrible things had happened to him in his early life to cause Nate to become this monster, at least now it was all over. And more importantly, the eight boys would be safe.
Dak turned away from the body and looked up the mountainside at the two brothers who stared with terror in their eyes at the new gunman who'd appeared—seemingly out of nowhere.
"It's okay," he said, raising a hand. "You the McDowell boys?"
Dak trudged the hill, careful to move slowly with each step so he didn't spook them.
The boys stared at the stranger with a mix of fear and confusion in their eyes. They stole a glance at each other, as if questioning the other as to whether or not they should trust the man. Even from up the slope, Jamie McDowell could see the green in the stranger's eyes. It was a disarming color that matched the grin on the man's face, an expression that told them everything was going to be okay.
The older brother nodded, still supporting his brother with one arm wrapped around him.
Dak stopped when he reached the two boys and exhaled with a nod of his own. "You're safe now," he said. "Let's get you two back to your parents."
Nineteen
Brown’s Ferry
Dak pulled up to the motel and stopped the SUV outside the last room on the end as the sun dipped toward the horizon
