Cost of Survival

by B.R. Paulson

  Chapter 5

  Oh my word, oh my word, oh my word.

  Blood dripped from the fallen man’s upper thigh. The copper scent warred with suddenly overwhelming pine. My senses heightened and I swear a fly buzzed somewhere off to my right.

  I didn’t lower the gun because Shane didn’t move to help his friend. He stared with his mouth hanging open at the wound. His eyes flicked my direction then back to the guy crying on the ground.

  Making men cry wasn’t on my daily to-do list, but it felt good in that instance. Jerks.

  Gritting my teeth, I willed everything I had into stopping my hands from shaking. Seriously, stop, already. If I showed any weakness, he could tackle me. At least, I could picture him doing it. He hadn’t actually moved much since the beers and with the lack of focus in his expression, I couldn’t be sure he wasn’t partially harmless.

  While the civilized part of me longed to say I’m sorry, I’m sorry, to the guy I shot, I couldn’t bring myself to move my mouth. Because I wasn’t. Not even enough that my civilized side could still be referred to as civilized. I wanted to be sorry. Wanted to be a good person who didn’t want to shoot people and who wanted to pray and have faith like my mom. I guarantee she would have forgiven them and not had to shoot anyone.

  In fact, if honesty were my claim to greatness, I would say a bigger, meaner part of me wanted to shoot Shane twice as much as the other guy out of revenge for hurting Mom.

  If that made me a bad person, I didn’t want to be a good one.

  Mom moaned, drawing my attention and Shane’s. She turned her head back and forth on the ground, pieces of leaves and blades of grass clung to the waves of her still-mostly dark hair. Lashes fluttering, she stilled. Had she woken up? Was she aware or had she slipped away again?

  Shane ignored me. He stepped toward her, outstretching his hands like he’d forgotten all about me. His swaying stopped but he had an unclear haze to his expression, like he couldn’t focus. When he bent over, arms still out, it didn’t matter if he was inebriated or not. I didn’t care about him and he became less human the closer he got to Mom.

  Before he could touch her, I commanded in a low firm voice. “Don’t get any closer. I’ll shoot you.” And by all that was holy I would. My hands steadied and I aimed easily at his chest.

  Heck, I already shot one guy – okay, it was an accident – but the act hadn’t been as bad as I expected. I might need to try again to see if it was a one-time thing or actually got easier with each one.

  He froze, glancing over his shoulder to his friend still moaning and compressing his leg with tight fingers. Shane glared at me, narrowing his eyes. A weasely nose and narrowed jaw-line didn’t give me any reassurances he would stay put once we left. I had to tie him up.

  Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. I wouldn’t cry in front of them. I could control that much, but I just shot someone and my mom was in danger and I had no idea what I was doing.

  Mom opened her eyes and stared at the man above her for one, two, thre—

  She scrambled to her feet and backed up, taking in as much of the scene as she could in only a matter of heart beats. Once she perused everything around her, she side-stepped toward me, hand outstretched.

  I tried ignoring the blood leaking from her nose and the horrific purple and blue bruising already coloring around her temple and upper cheekbone. In disarray, her hair only made her look more wild. My all-powerful mom had vulnerabilities and right then wasn’t the time to spot them.

  When she got within reach, I gratefully handed the gun to her, keeping my eyes on the men in case they chose to try something. Nausea wrangled with my stomach and if I didn’t get out of there soon, I had a sinking sensation it was going to win.

  “Back up, beside the other one.” One-handed, Mom motioned toward the downed would-be-abductor with the muzzle of the gun. With her other arm, she corralled me behind her and backed us out.

  Shane moved slowly as if he couldn’t quite grasp what was happening. He stopped beside the guy who hadn’t stopped crying. The sound of a man crying in pain was more annoying than anything.

  I’d never heard my dad cry, never thought of him as a crier and it hadn’t occurred to me that he might have lost some tears at the end.

  “Shane, I think she hit my crotch, man.” The guy rocked back and forth with his hand pushed tight against his upper leg.

  For the record, the outside of his leg is nowhere near his crotch.

  I sighed, suddenly not so nauseated.

  Shane didn’t take his eyes off us. Even glassy, his gaze didn’t flicker. So he couldn’t be too drunk. Seniors used to come like that to class. Idiots.

  “If we see you again, we’ll shoot you where it counts.” Mom tilted her head, steady. “I don’t miss, either.” Under her breath, she muttered. “Go get their guns over by the tree. The two rifles. We might be able to use them. Hurry, we need to get going.”

  First, I back up and grabbed the doubled-up backpacks and drew them onto my shoulders.

  The tree supporting the weapons was past the men but I skirted the rounded edge of the clearing and reached it without going within arm’s reach of them.

  With both backpacks on, grabbing the heavy guns wasn’t easy. But I lifted them and carried one leaning over each shoulder without complaint. Mom couldn’t carry them. At least not yet and I wasn’t going to take her for granted again – at least not in the immediate future.

  In that moment, I’d gladly do whatever it took to get somewhere safe. With my mom.

  The coppery scent of blood rode the morning breeze and I wrinkled my nose. A biology fact rose to the surface of my memory about sharks in the ocean. Something about smelling a drop of blood from a mile away. I couldn’t remember if they had a predator with those capabilities in the northwestern forests. If we did, well, Shane and his buddy weren’t going to do very well.

  I reached my mom. Resolving to keep my mouth shut and not argue, I backed up until I was behind Mom again and followed her lead as we backed out of the clearing.

  If the men survived, I had a sinking sensation, we would see them again. They would no longer be the prey lying like bait for any predator to come along. Instead, they would be like sharks and their revenge wouldn’t be glorious or natural.

  That didn’t make tomorrow look any brighter.