by Jeff Strand
I took an arrow out of the quiver, pulled back the bowstring, and locked it in place. Then I took careful aim at Theresa's wire again.
"Oh, trying for the girl again, huh? I don't blame you. She'solder, you've got more of an investment in her."
I placed my finger on the trigger, took a deep breath, and shot the arrow.
But not at the wire.At the last instant I jerked the crossbow upward, firing at the hook. The explosive-tipped arrow I'd gotten from Dominick hit the ceiling, creating a monstrous ball of fire and sending chunks of wood flying everywhere.
The noise was deafening. Farley dropped the bricks as he was thrown to the ground, and the hooks and wires fell with them, along with half of the roof.
I staggered backwards from the impact, accidentally dropping the crossbow, then immediately hurried forward. "Theresa! Kyle! Get out of here!" I screamed, shoving them toward the doorway. The kids rushed for safety, as Farley made a lunge to grab the wire that trailed behind Kyle.
I kicked Farley in the face before he could manage that. He rolled on his side as some burning wood pieces fell on his leg. I tried to kick him again, but he moved out of the way in time. He grabbed a piece of rubble and threw it at me, grazing my shoulder and instantly causing my arm to go numb. Then he got to his feet.
"Your kids are stillgonna die!" he shouted. "You haven't changed anything!"
He rushed at me like a football player going for a tackle. As I dodged, I realized my mistake—Farley snatched the crossbow and a razor-lined arrow from the floor. I ran toward him, whipping an arrow from my own quiver.
He swung the crossbow, bashing me in the temple. Istumbled backward several steps and fell on a burning chunk of the ceiling. I cried out and rolled over, frantically batting at my shirt. As I beat out the flames, Farley snapped the arrow into place.
He fired. The arrow struck me, sinking half its length into my upper arm, jutting out the other side. I couldn't even scream—I could only let out a series of frantic gasps.
Although the pain was so intense that I wanted nothing more than to just curl up into a little ball and cry, I forced myself to stand up again as Farley picked up another arrow and prepared to fire. This time he shot it into my right leg, inches below the waist. I fell back and crashed into the shelf in an explosion of videos and weapons.
Farley tossed the crossbow down and glared at me. He walked over to a small dresser beside the bed and opened one of the drawers. "You're lucky I didn't put the arrow through your eye," he said, taking out a handgun. "But I still want you to live."
He strode toward the doorway. "What do I do now, huh? I guess I hunt down your brats, put a bullet in each of them, and then wait for the cops to show up to investigate the explosion. I can go down in a hail of bullets like Bonnie andClyde . Not as good as my original plan, but what can youdo ?"
I moaned and tried to push myself to a sitting position. Farley rolled his eyes and pointed the gun at me.
"Oh, give it up," he said, pulling the trigger.
The bullet struck me in the chest, slamming me against the shelf. Had it been a few inches to the left, it would've gone through my heart. The taste of blood filled my mouth, and the feeling rushed out of my legs. I moved my hand around helplessly, still trying to push myself up, knowing only that I had to save my kids, knowing that I didn't stand a chance.
My palm poked against Gaggles' teeth, drawing blood.
"I'll see you in a bit," said Farley. "I'll be the one with your children's bloody corpses slung over his shoulder."
He walked over to the doorway.
"Farley..." I croaked.
He turned around. "Do I have to shoot you again?"
I was seriously injured, maybe even dying. I had only one chance to save Theresa and Kyle. Nothing mattered, not the pain, not the blood, not the fear...nothing but doing what I had to do. And with a shriek of agony as my arm felt like it was being wrenched from its socket, I flung the skull at Farley.
Gaggles' open mouth struck him perfectly—upper jaw through the chin, lower jaw through the neck. The cowboy hat stayed in place.
Farley stiffened.
Let out a gurgling sound.
Then fell.
My last bit of strength was gone. I couldn't even call out my children's names. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best.
"ANDREW? CAN you hear me?"
I opened my eyes. Either Bruce or his twin brother Tony was crouched in front of me.
"An ambulance is on its way," Bruce or Tony said. "You don't have to worry about your children. They're safe with Tony. They're badly shaken, but they're not hurt."
"How'd you..."
"Find you? We followed you. We weren't just going to let you waltz away from the police station without surveillance. You lost us for a bit, but the explosion led us right to you. Sorry about the fib."
"Asshole," I whispered.
Bruce smiled. "You just relax. Everything is going to be fine."
"Maybe...but...not after..."
"Shhhh.No need to talk."
"...not after...my wife finds out..."
Epilogue
IF HELEN was pissed, she didn't show it. I'd never been babied so much in my life.
Michael hadn't been bluffing about having to make a call by Friday. By Saturday the names of everyone involved in the snuff videos, from kidnappers to clients, had been made public. It only took about two weeks for the last of them to be caught.
Roger doesn't throw a Frisbee as well as he used to, but after a nice long hospital stay he was all right. My hospital stay was even longer, but I healed pretty well, too. Helen's broken leg did just fine.
Theresa and Kyle...well, there were a lot of nightmares at first, but they're subsiding. It's been six months now, and I think they're both doing extremely well considering what happened. Their psychiatrist is one of the biggest nerds imaginable, but he's good. And kids are tough. They'll be okay.
They say that any publicity is good as long as they spell your name right, but the crew disbanded Ghoulish Delights anyway. Rachel became something of a hero for rescuing the prisoners, but I think she squandered her fame on getting more people to buy gym memberships.
Reverse Snowflake has a nice home now. Roger has a few new scratches every time I see him, but he'll live.
Now I've been offered a generous amount of money to tell my story. I have to admit, there was some hesitation on my part. I mean, that's what Farley wanted. The problem is, his story got out to the public anyway, even with all the interviews I refused to grant. The former prisoners shared everything, and Farley's final tape (which miraculously survived my blowing up a large percentage of his cabin) seemed to be on television twenty-four hours a day. He got what he wanted.
But, what the hell?Here's my book. Here's a nice summer home for myself and Helen, and a college education for Theresa and Kyle. And I paid off the guy whose car I hit...though, unfortunately, Helen found out about it.
Yeah, this is what Farley wanted, but you know what? He's dead, and I'm not.
I may suck as a detective, but right now I feel pretty good.
