Thirty-One and a Half Regrets
Page 85
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A war of emotions waged on his face.
“A handgun, not a rifle.”
Mason watched me for several seconds before sliding the bag down his arm and digging out one of the handguns. He reminded me how to load it and click the safety on and off. He held onto my hand as I grabbed the weapon from him. “Promise me that if you point it at Crocker or his men, you’ll do it with the intent to use it. Otherwise it might get you killed.”
I tugged without answering.
“Rose.”
I looked up into his eyes. “I used it last time, Mason.”
He studied my face. “You shot him in the leg. This time you have to shoot to stop him. You have to shoot to kill.”
I still had to wonder if I could purposely shoot someone. But if backed into a corner, I hoped I’d do what needed to be done. “Okay.”
He released his hold and I double checked the safety before tucking the gun into the waistband at the small of my back.
Mason watched me with wary eyes before snagging my hand. “Let’s keep going.”
My fingers tightened over his. The feel of the cold gun against my skin made me feel better, which I found shocking. I had been a different person when I shot Daniel Crocker. Though it had happened less than six months ago, I felt years older than the girl who had naïvely convinced a hardened criminal to drag her upstairs. Would I have done the same thing today? I knew I would, but I’d be so much more aware of the dangers now. My fears had been so shallow before I began to truly experience life and all its great joys and disappointments.
My world had been so much smaller.
There had been so much less to lose.
Chapter Twenty-Four
We were both exhausted and weak from hunger, but my vision had spooked us enough to pick up a faster pace. The land flattened for a while before it began to climb again, which made our trek easier. By late morning, we took a break next to a creek and drank more water.
“I think we’ve traveled at least four or five miles,” Mason said, leaning his back against a tree.
I looked up. “So we’re getting closer to Moore County.”
“Yeah. I think we could be there in another few hours. Sooner if we could find more flat patches. Or a house.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief. “I’ve lived here all my life, and I never realized you could get so lost in the woods of northern Fenton County.”
“Like I mentioned, that’s why the meth lab operators hide out here.”
I shivered. We had a big enough enemy without throwing another one into the mix. “Let’s get going.”
The sun shone brightly overhead, which was a double-edged sword. While I was warmer than I’d been the day before, the thin layer of snow was beginning to melt, making our footing slippery in places and leaving muddy footprints behind us.
The terrain quickly became hilly again. The denser sections were easier to traverse since they had seen lighter snowfall, but the ground was wet no matter where we went and we kept losing our footing. We crossed the top of another hill, facing another steep climb down. I leaned over my knees. “Let me take a moment to catch my breath.”
“Sure.” Mason put his hands on his hips and walked along the ridge. “I think it will be easier to climb down over there.” He was pointing to our right when the ground underneath him collapsed, taking him with it.
“Mason!” I ran over to the edge, terrified as I watched him tumble down the thirty-foot embankment and land at a heap at the bottom.
“Mason!” Trying to control my sobs of panic, I scrambled down the hill, falling onto my butt and sliding the rest of the way. “Mason!”
He lay unmoving on his side, and my heart leapt into my throat as I reached for him with shaky hands, leaning over his shoulder to look at his face. “Mason, talk to me.” Blood from a cut on his forehead covered his face, and his right cheek had already begun to swell.
His eyes blinked open and his face contorted in pain.
“Can you get up?”
“Give me a second.” He closed his eyes for several moments and I suddenly worried he might have a concussion. His eyes opened again. “I might need your help. I think I bruised some ribs.”
My breath stuck in my chest, my worry deepening. “Okay.”
I reached my arm around his shoulders and gently helped him into a sitting position. He released a cry of pain, breathing rapidly and scrunching his eyes shut. “Give me a minute.” His clothes and exposed skin were covered in mud and leaves.
I pulled a leaf off his hand. “You look pretty banged up. Let me check you over.”
He cracked a grin. “In a different context, I’d like the sound of that.”
I smiled despite my tears. “You’ve got a nasty cut on your forehead.” Blood was trailing from his cheek to his neck. “We have to stop the bleeding.” I looked around for something to press on his wound, but we were surrounded by mud and dried leaves. The blankets were still in Mason’s bag, but they had to be germ-infested. I stripped off my jacket and pulled my T-shirt over my head. The hairs on my arms stood on end when the cold air hit my bare skin.
“Rose, what are you doing?”
I folded up the shirt and pressed it to his forehead. “Can you hold this in place?”
He reached up and winced.
I picked up my jacket and shoved my arms in the sleeves, buttoning it up. “Where else do you hurt?”
He paused before looking into my face. “I think I might have broken my right leg.”
“A handgun, not a rifle.”
Mason watched me for several seconds before sliding the bag down his arm and digging out one of the handguns. He reminded me how to load it and click the safety on and off. He held onto my hand as I grabbed the weapon from him. “Promise me that if you point it at Crocker or his men, you’ll do it with the intent to use it. Otherwise it might get you killed.”
I tugged without answering.
“Rose.”
I looked up into his eyes. “I used it last time, Mason.”
He studied my face. “You shot him in the leg. This time you have to shoot to stop him. You have to shoot to kill.”
I still had to wonder if I could purposely shoot someone. But if backed into a corner, I hoped I’d do what needed to be done. “Okay.”
He released his hold and I double checked the safety before tucking the gun into the waistband at the small of my back.
Mason watched me with wary eyes before snagging my hand. “Let’s keep going.”
My fingers tightened over his. The feel of the cold gun against my skin made me feel better, which I found shocking. I had been a different person when I shot Daniel Crocker. Though it had happened less than six months ago, I felt years older than the girl who had naïvely convinced a hardened criminal to drag her upstairs. Would I have done the same thing today? I knew I would, but I’d be so much more aware of the dangers now. My fears had been so shallow before I began to truly experience life and all its great joys and disappointments.
My world had been so much smaller.
There had been so much less to lose.
Chapter Twenty-Four
We were both exhausted and weak from hunger, but my vision had spooked us enough to pick up a faster pace. The land flattened for a while before it began to climb again, which made our trek easier. By late morning, we took a break next to a creek and drank more water.
“I think we’ve traveled at least four or five miles,” Mason said, leaning his back against a tree.
I looked up. “So we’re getting closer to Moore County.”
“Yeah. I think we could be there in another few hours. Sooner if we could find more flat patches. Or a house.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief. “I’ve lived here all my life, and I never realized you could get so lost in the woods of northern Fenton County.”
“Like I mentioned, that’s why the meth lab operators hide out here.”
I shivered. We had a big enough enemy without throwing another one into the mix. “Let’s get going.”
The sun shone brightly overhead, which was a double-edged sword. While I was warmer than I’d been the day before, the thin layer of snow was beginning to melt, making our footing slippery in places and leaving muddy footprints behind us.
The terrain quickly became hilly again. The denser sections were easier to traverse since they had seen lighter snowfall, but the ground was wet no matter where we went and we kept losing our footing. We crossed the top of another hill, facing another steep climb down. I leaned over my knees. “Let me take a moment to catch my breath.”
“Sure.” Mason put his hands on his hips and walked along the ridge. “I think it will be easier to climb down over there.” He was pointing to our right when the ground underneath him collapsed, taking him with it.
“Mason!” I ran over to the edge, terrified as I watched him tumble down the thirty-foot embankment and land at a heap at the bottom.
“Mason!” Trying to control my sobs of panic, I scrambled down the hill, falling onto my butt and sliding the rest of the way. “Mason!”
He lay unmoving on his side, and my heart leapt into my throat as I reached for him with shaky hands, leaning over his shoulder to look at his face. “Mason, talk to me.” Blood from a cut on his forehead covered his face, and his right cheek had already begun to swell.
His eyes blinked open and his face contorted in pain.
“Can you get up?”
“Give me a second.” He closed his eyes for several moments and I suddenly worried he might have a concussion. His eyes opened again. “I might need your help. I think I bruised some ribs.”
My breath stuck in my chest, my worry deepening. “Okay.”
I reached my arm around his shoulders and gently helped him into a sitting position. He released a cry of pain, breathing rapidly and scrunching his eyes shut. “Give me a minute.” His clothes and exposed skin were covered in mud and leaves.
I pulled a leaf off his hand. “You look pretty banged up. Let me check you over.”
He cracked a grin. “In a different context, I’d like the sound of that.”
I smiled despite my tears. “You’ve got a nasty cut on your forehead.” Blood was trailing from his cheek to his neck. “We have to stop the bleeding.” I looked around for something to press on his wound, but we were surrounded by mud and dried leaves. The blankets were still in Mason’s bag, but they had to be germ-infested. I stripped off my jacket and pulled my T-shirt over my head. The hairs on my arms stood on end when the cold air hit my bare skin.
“Rose, what are you doing?”
I folded up the shirt and pressed it to his forehead. “Can you hold this in place?”
He reached up and winced.
I picked up my jacket and shoved my arms in the sleeves, buttoning it up. “Where else do you hurt?”
He paused before looking into my face. “I think I might have broken my right leg.”