Chapter 12
Sometime after eight in the morning, I started daydreaming about my mother's homemade muffins. I worried about her and dad and what they were thinking by now --
I heard the baying of dogs.
Derrick stopped. I had seen a little line of blood at his shoulder, a spot growing the last hour after he took a fall and obviously tore the wound open again. He couldn't walk without my help, and his leg gave way every few steps. I had been about to suggest I leave him here and go on now because we couldn't be far from the edge of the hills by Loma.
The dogs howled again. We both glaniced back over our shoulders.
"Maybe they're out trying to find us," Derrick suggested.
"Someone is," I agreed. His skin looked pale and damp and his eyes shadowed. I hated the idea of giving him more bad news. "The Westons have been breeding dogs for a few years. We think they're involved in a dog fight ring."
"Why am I not even in the least bit surprised?" he said. "We'll never outrun the dogs."
"We don't have far to go," I said, but he shook his head. "Really -- we don't have far. We've made good distance since the sun came up."
"I suppose we don't have much choice but go on.".
I wished I could believe someone other than the Westons would by trying to find us, but I figured sitting and hoping bordered on suicidal. And maybe part of me wanted to get out on my own, and prove myself. If I had been here alone I would have kept walking. But Derrick -- Derrick needed medical help.
The snow started to fall again, but I hardly cared. Our clothing clinked with bits of ice, and we left a trail even Junior would be able to follow, dogs or not. I didn't think they had tracking dogs -- just the poor dogs we all suspected they put into illegal fight rings. These dogs were killers. I didn't say anything to Derrick, though.
We kept going. The dogs didn't seem to get any closer for a long time, which buoyed my hopes. I thought I even heard a car once, not too far away. I said nothing to Derrick but we moved along a little faster until we got to the base of the next hill. There I found a well-worn path -- another sign we might be closer to the end of this mess.
The morning sunlight felt warmer where it slashed through the trees. Ice hung from many of the branches like crystal jewels -- and if I hadn't been so worried about Derrick, I would have paused to take in the beauty. But even as we started up the trail, I heard the dogs again -- and closer now. Beyond a doubt, they would reach us soon.
Derrick started to slip as we hit the worst of the incline. I took better hold of him and pulled him upward, both of us bent over and moving slowly. We reached the top --
And we could see all the way down the side to a falling down barn and the road beyond, where a car went by even while we stood there, dumbfounded at the sight we'd worked so hard to reach.
I don't know how long we would have remained if the dogs hadn't started baying. I could hear a voice shouting now as well.
"Too damned close!" Derrick warned. He shook his head and caught my arm, heading down the hillside.
We slid part of the way, which hurt like hell. I couldn't imagine how he felt, but we reached the bottom of the hillside pretty fast.
"Try for the road?" I asked, brushing my scraped palms against ruined clothing. I squirmed at the thought of how bad I must look -- but then considering I'd leapt from a moving car, fallen down a ravine, not slept all night, and hiked in snow, ice and mud... okay, I could give myself a break here.
"Let's head for the road by the barn." Derrick started that way at a limping run. "We'll have a little better cover, and there might be some place to climb if the dogs do catch up with us."
I nodded, afraid to speak because I could hear the dogs coming closer already. Another car went by on the road and I waved frantically -- and fell, pulling Derrick down with me again.
"Sorry," I apologized.
"You did right. We need to try and get someone's attention."
I glanced back, seeing movement along the top. Dogs appeared and a figure -- still in shadow. I couldn't see who stood there.
"Heading for the old barn! Get your ass over there!"
I knew Tom Weston's voice even distorted by the distance. Derrick had already scrambled back to his feet.
"If I had my gun --" He stopped and looked around. He started to limp toward the barn once more.
"They know we're heading there," I protested.
"The barn is the only place with any cover and the only place where we can put a wall to our backs." He sounded more awake and frantic now. He moved on his own, and probably from pure adrenaline. I understood, because I had no trouble keeping up with him.
We reached the barn and pushed our way past the fallen door. Pigeons took off in shouts of anger and surprise, and for a moment they blocked out a more ominous sound -- Junior's truck, coming fast.
"Son of a bitch." Derek shook his head in dismay. "They must be using cell phones. The way Tom shouted, I thought Junior had to be somewhere behind him. I thought we had a chance to get to cover, at least."
"Shouting so Junior could hear him over the damned truck," I guessed. I should have been scared. Instead, I grabbed a good, stout piece of wood, wincing at a sliver in my finger. Derrick gave me a quick smile of appreciation.
We didn't have time to prepare for anything more. He waved me over toward the wall by the fallen door. I started to argue, but he'd taken cover on the other side, so the fool didn't intend to stand there and draw Junior's attention -- and his gun.
Or at least that's what I thought.
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