The bullet hit Ethan right between the eyes. The prick collapsed like a sack of potatoes. In the split second it took for his 'friends' to react, I pried my handgun from my waistband and shot at the motorbike's headlight, plunging us into darkness.
Then Jai and the other twin started firing. How I managed to not get hit is a wonder, and for Charlotte not to be hit was even more of a miracle. But still, as soon as we were fired at, we both dropped to our stomachs on the ground. The only sounds, the only flashes, were of the guns – especially the shotgun, which didn't stop for what felt like an eternity. It cracked like thunder, it exploded in countless bursts, the twin barrels lighting up.
Eventually the idiots worked out that they hadn't hit anything, so the next logical step was to look down. All I knew was that Charlotte was beside me, wounded, so I slipped my hand up her arm and hauled her to her feet. She couldn't get her balance so as she stumbled the only part of her I could grab was her ass, which I shoved up and away.
Bullets pounded the grass where we'd been as we made a beeline for the trees on the other side of the property. The farmhouse bordered a forest – at least that was what it looked like – but there was at least a hundred metres of open field to cross to get there.
Charlotte wouldn't make it.
So I moved away from her, heading toward the highway, and shot at the two fuckwits who I assumed were still at the front of the farmhouse. I deliberately wasted the entire magazine before taking off again.
There was shouting, but whether they were following me, I had no clue. As long as they headed in this general direction so I could double back and search for Charlotte, it'd help me immensely.
I couldn't wait to find out if my half-cocked plan worked because I really didn't want to face off with someone while I was unarmed. So I entered the trees and backtracked, heading in the direction I hoped Charlotte was.
The forest was claustrophobic and treacherous. I tripped over god knew what, and stumbled over a fucking rabbit. The ground was uneven and the trees were pressed tightly together; my clothes caught as I moved through the underbrush, and my pack as well as Charlotte's kept getting caught on low-hanging branches.
But I pushed my way through the foliage, over the dead leaves, under the blanket of night and trees. I paused intermittently to hear for any sounds other than my footsteps, or the animals that took up residence here. But I heard nothing, not even shouting or talking in the distance. Whether it was because they'd gone or because sound couldn't penetrate the trees, I had no idea.
When I ran into Charlotte ten minutes later, it was a surprise to us both. She was crouching inside a crashed airplane, one of those light ones that could only fit one person. The cockpit was intact, and that was where she popped up from when she'd heard me. Her finger squeezed the trigger and I'd only been able to avoid it because I was so close to the airplane. The bullet bounced off the metal, the sound ricocheting around the tiny clearing the plane crash had made.
"Charlotte," I whispered, before she decided to shoot at me again. "Charlotte, it's me."
Her silhouette lowered the gun. "Nate?"
Crouching, I followed the metal toward her voice, using my hand as a guide. And there she was, sitting in the cockpit, the glass pulled back. It looked like most of the damage sustained to the airplane was to its nose, its belly, and its now non-existent wings.
"Oh my god." She released the words on a sigh. In the dark it was hard to read her expression, but I heard her sharp intake of breath as she manoeuvred her way out of the cockpit. She jumped down onto the ground beside me to lean against the plane. She flicked on her flashlight.
"Did we lose them?" she asked. "Have they left?"
"I can't hear anything," I said after a pause, because now that I'd stopped moving, I could listen for things I'd otherwise miss. I regarded her in the torchlight, at the colour slowly spreading across her cheek. "Are you alright?"
Her hand went to her cheek as I said this. "I'm alright," she said.
I wasn't convinced, but I didn't say anything. I could tell just by the way she was standing that she'd hurt her foot or her ankle. I wasn't sure when, but it was before I'd come outside. She'd tried to conceal it, but even now she wasn't doing a very good job of it. She leaned heavily against the side of the plane and bore no weight on her left side.
Her silence was surprising. I was waiting for her to say something, maybe a snide remark; but she offered nothing. Give it five seconds and I knew she'd crack the shits.
"I'm going to leave you here," I began, and just like that, she was back to herself; it was like watching a flower bloom before my eyes. "I'm going to leave you here, then I'm coming back," I said over her protests.
"Nathan Tarver, you are not leaving me behind!" she said indignantly. I was pleasantly surprised she knew my last name – Emmi must've told her. "I'm going with you."
"No."
"You can't stop me."
"Considering you can't even walk, I won't need to."
She was ready to go down fighting – I was actually waiting for her to get physical, like the many other times we'd clashed. But she changed again, like she was closing in on herself. It was odd against what I knew of her, to see her close up, to see her so subdued. Usually she was so full of life, energy, and was ready to grab life by the balls – literally.
"Don't leave me behind," she said, and her voice lowered to a whisper. "Don't leave me here."
It was hard to get a read on her. Was she actually scared? Did she fear Jai – that he'd find her and take her away?
"I'm going back for Emmi," I said.
Saying her name was like a lightbulb going off. But it didn't make Charlotte see reason like I'd hoped; instead it made her latch onto me, like I was about to take off. Her fingers anchored themselves into my jacket. "You are not fucking leaving me here," she said, and I swore if I tried to move away she'd grab my leg.
When it came to Emmi, there was no other choice. And besides, Charlotte was safer here than anywhere else. The cockpit of the plane looked like it could still be closed. She was armed, and if someone tried to get at her she was protected. And she could protect herself. She was fucking capable – I'd seen it firsthand.
I handed Charlotte her pack. She silently and reluctantly let go of me as she accepted it. "You're safer here," I said to her, but she looked unconvinced.
She dropped the bag at her feet before removing my rifle from her shoulders. "Fine," she said, tossing me my weapon. I caught it with one hand, which only seemed to irritate her more. "Go get your daughter. Come back to me before I die."
"Charlotte–"
"Don't. You've made up your mind, I've made up mine. I'll wait here like a sitting duck."
She was past the point of reason. So I approached her, grabbed her chin and kissed her on the mouth while she was preoccupied.
She looked both horrified and wounded by the gesture. "Don't," she said so quietly I thought she hadn't said anything at all. Then she said, "Go", and I left, taking off toward the farmhouse as fast as I could.
I strained to hear for any unusual sounds, anything that might suggest that Jai and the other brother were nearby. But there was nothing except the sounds of owls hooting, of other nocturnal birds taking flight. The snapping of a twig saw me pause and raise my rifle, turning every which way to find the source and to be ready to face down the barrel of a shotgun. But there was nothing. Even when I broke through the trees and sprinted across open ground, no one came out to greet me. The motorbike was in the same position as before. So that either meant A) someone was still lurking around, or B) they'd both taken off.
I fucking hoped it was the latter.
The door to the farmhouse was open as I approached. I couldn't remember whether I'd closed it on my way out.
The house was dark as I ducked inside. I didn't bother checking any of the rooms downstairs, because it wasn't my priority to do any recon. So I climbed the stairs, keeping a hand against the wall to guide me. Even before the whole end of the world thing, I was one of those people who didn't fall down stairs – nope, I fell up them. And no matter how slow I went, how careful I was, I still managed to trip.
I had half a mind to right myself, but that saw me bump into the wall instead and the force behind it knocked a photo frame from above. It fell with a crack, and I swore the sound was loud enough for anyone to have heard it even miles away.
But nothing happened. I didn't hear footsteps above or below me, I didn't hear doors open or close, there was no gunfire. The house was silent and dark. It was ominous.
Something wasn't right.
Moonlight filtered in through the broken window at the end of the hallway. It provided me with enough light to manoeuvre confidently toward the room at the opposite end of the hallway.
I crept along the hallway as opposed to walked, and I made sure to keep my footsteps light so I didn't make any of the floorboards creak. I had a sense of déjà vu as I focussed on the bedroom door ahead, because last time I'd been shot in the fucking shoulder and I really didn't want to be shot a second time.
The door swung inward as I slowly turned the handle and pushed against it. I was so jacked up that the sound of pattering feet sent my blood pressure through the roof and I almost squeezed the trigger when Dog came running at me.
That was when I knew something was wrong. I'd left Dog with Emmi when I'd come to tuck her, and had told her I was going to check on Charlotte. She knew from experience to lock the door whenever I left – or let anyone in if it wasn't me.
I moved past Dog and into the bedroom, ignoring him and his barking and his wagging tail as I stuck my head into the bathroom. Nothing. "Emmi?"
There was no response. My skin tingled. I backed out of the bathroom and almost stepped on Dog in the process. He gave a tiny yap of indignation, like he couldn't believe I'd forgotten he was there. I swept him up with one arm and put him inside my jacket, cradled against my chest like I'd seen Charlotte do. Zipping it up, I then proceeded to check the entire house, dread settling in the pit of my stomach like a fucking boulder.
When I came to the final room, right at the back, the bathroom where Charlotte had stitched up my shoulder, I heard the motorbike roar to life and knew it had everything to do with Emmi's disappearance.
The house was like a minefield as I surged toward the front, all the discarded items the owners had left behind hindering me from getting there fast enough. The bike was gone by the time I'd made it to the front porch. Dread and fear came together and mingled inside my stomach. I could follow the bike to the edge of the property, but once they hit the highway, I'd have no idea where they went.
Every instinct begged me to follow Emmi, and I even took a few steps in the direction of the highway. But then it clicked that Charlotte would have some idea of where they'd gone, and she was my best bet of getting Emmi back.
So it took all my willpower to change direction, to not do what my body, my brain, my heart, wanted me to do. Everything was now a detour until I got her back, and I had to get to Charlotte so we could get on our way.
My legs felt like lead as they took me to the edge of the property, toward the forest that bordered it. I couldn't for the life of me remember exactly where I'd left Charlotte, so I kept my gaze locked on the night sky for a clearing amongst all the branches and leaves. My adrenaline was still through the roof, and my anger was starting to get the better of my dread.
After what felt like half an hour of searching, after what felt like an hour of my mind picking to pieces all the horrible things that could be happening to Emmi, my ears picked up on something other than rustling leaves and the activities of nocturnal animals. I could hear faint grunting and groaning, and my mind instantly went to sex, all things considered. The sound gradually grew louder as I crept forward, feet light, rifle at the ready.
Charlotte was pinned to the ground, flat on her back, with what looked to be Ethan's brother on top of her. But that was where all similarities with sex ended, as through his torchlight I saw that his hands were wrapped around Charlotte's neck and he was throttling her. She was the source of the groans; he was the source of the grunts.
It didn't take me long to decide what I was going to do.
I lowered my rifle and went to Charlotte's pack, which was lying nearby. I removed the bat from its holder, weighing it in my hand as I approached Ethan's brother from behind. He was so fucking preoccupied with killing Charlotte that he never noticed he wasn't alone.
And he sure didn't fucking notice when I slung my rifle over my shoulder, lined him up with the bat, took aim, and hit his skull for a home run.