As I crossed my room, I heard a man yell, “Stop right there!” and a pair of sharp cracks and then Prairie’s voice, speaking softly, something I couldn’t make out. I had to find out what was happening. I wasn’t worried about Gram, exactly-but I had to know what kind of trouble Prairie had brought with her.
I tiptoed down the hall, flattening my back against the wall, and peeked around the corner so I had a view into the kitchen and the living room.
What I saw made me suck in my breath.
A man stood a few feet from the door, pointing a gun at Gram and Prairie. It was one of the men from the car I’d seen at the drugstore-I recognized his gray jacket and his blond buzz cut. Gram was sitting in her chair and I could tell from the drool trail that still shone wet on her cheek that she’d passed out, like she sometimes did. She was blinking fast and patting at her hair nervously. Prairie stood behind her, hands held out at her sides.
Dun was exactly where I’d last seen him, slumped over the table, except there was a leaking pool of red coming from his mouth.
Prairie looked furious. I wanted to signal to her somehow, but I knew I couldn’t do it without the guy with the gun seeing me.
“You,” the man said in a clipped, calm voice. “Old lady. Get down on the floor. Lie on your stomach with your hands straight out to the sides.”
“You ain’t supposed to-” Gram protested. I suddenly smelled urine sharp in the air and I knew she had peed her pants.
A movement in the corner of the kitchen caught my eye. As it flashed past I realized that Rattler must have hidden behind the refrigerator-but why? Was he helping the man with the gun somehow? Before I could even finish the thought Rattler’s arm came up and there was a flash of metal as he buried Gram’s chef’s knife deep below the man’s shoulder.
I screamed. I tried to scream, anyway, but what came out was more of a choked gasp.
“Get back, Hailey!” Prairie screamed at me.
Rattler let go of the knife handle. He didn’t wait for the man to fall but threw him onto the kitchen floor as he scrabbled at the knife sticking out of his shoulder. Then Rattler reached for Prairie.
“Get Chub,” Prairie yelled. “Now. Run!”
I turned and sprinted for my room. I got Chub from the closet-he didn’t even stir in his sleep. From the other room I heard a crash and glass breaking. I looked toward the window and considered jumping out with Chub-it was only a few feet to the ground, we’d be fine-but I realized that without Prairie, and the car, there was no chance we could get away. It was a long way across the yard to the woods, and we wouldn’t have any cover.
And-I didn’t want to leave Prairie.
As I ran down the hall there was another loud crack and then a man yelled, “Get back!” I skidded to a stop just before the corner and looked around it again, shielding Chub in my arms.
Dun had slid out of his chair and onto the floor, leaving a smear of blood on the table. The guy with the knife in his shoulder sat next to him, making gasping sounds, his blood-covered hands around the knife handle. A second man stood in the doorway, pointing his gun at Rattler. It was the other man from the car, slightly shorter than his partner, with black hair and eyes and wearing a black track jacket. He stepped neatly over the pile of splintered wood and glass that had been our storm door, and placed himself squarely between Prairie and Rattler. For a second I had the crazy idea that he was protecting Prairie, that they had come here to save us from Dun and Rattler and Gram, but then the man spoke, never taking his eyes off Rattler, who slowly sank to his knees and raised his hands in the air, looking not so much afraid as amused.
“On your stomach, arms straight out, or I will shoot you,” the man barked, and Rattler complied. I saw Prairie’s hands scrambling on the counter behind her, knocking against a glass, a dirty plate, a box of Cheez-Its. The toaster was just beyond her reach. I wanted to scream at her to grab it and throw it at the guy, nail him in the head, but I couldn’t speak. I was clutching Chub so tightly that he was whimpering into my neck. I didn’t know if I should run back down the hall and take our chances with the window after all, or try to help Prairie.
Before I could decide, Gram pushed her chair back and struggled to stand.
“Stop right there, lady,” the man said. “Down on the floor like your friend here, arms out.”
But Gram lurched toward him, her gray stringy hair plastered to her drool-damp chin, her hands paddling the air at her sides. “But I’m the one who-”
“Down!” he yelled as his arm swung toward her. I could see what was going to happen in the split second before the gunshot echoed through the room, as Gram kept lurching forward, straight for him.
Except it wasn’t a single gunshot-it was two, one right after the other, and Gram flew back through the air, a misting red hole in her back. Then Rattler hurtled up off the floor, the first guy’s gun in his hand.
The shooter took longer to fall than Gram did. Rattler had shot him in the side, but it didn’t look that bad. He stumbled, putting his hands to the wound and sucking air. Rattler didn’t have any more patience with him than with his partner, and he caught him under the chin with the butt of the gun. The man fell to the sound of his own jaw breaking.
There was a second of perfect silence. I took everything in: Gram on her back with her eyes wide and staring, Dun lying next to the two men Rattler had wounded. And in the center of it all, Rattler. If I’d thought his eyes were frightening in the past, they were ten times more frightening now. As I watched from the darkness of the hallway, he slowly lowered the gun to his side, dangling it loose in his hand.
“Ladies,” he said, drawing out the word as though he was tasting it. “That was sloppy of me. What I git for doubtin’ myself. Won’t happen again. Prairie, guess we’ll take your car.”
“We’re not going anywhere with you,” Prairie spat.
Rattler shook his head. “Now, Prairie, don’t you fret. I ain’t gonna do nothin’ besides take you somewhere’s I can keep an eye on you.”
Prairie’s eyes widened and I saw fresh fear there. I couldn’t believe there could be anything worse than this-four people lying in a sea of blood on the floor, Rattler threatening us with a gun-but Prairie looked terrified.
It was her fear that finally made me move. I remembered the kitchen scissors, in a mason jar with the spatulas and spoons next to the sink, and I ran for them. I waited for the slam of the bullet even as my fingers closed on the handles of the scissors and my hip hit the counter hard. There was an “oof” behind me and the gun went off and-Was I hit? Was Prairie hit?-I whirled around and Rattler had disappeared and Prairie was still standing and I was still standing-
“Now Hailey now!” Prairie screamed. I didn’t have to be told twice. Chub wailed in my arms, struggling against me. I dropped the scissors and ran, holding him as tight as I could, and followed Prairie out the door, crunching glass under my feet, slipping on the blood, and then we were in the yard, sprinting for her car.
Rascal was sitting in the center of the yard. His eyes glowed golden in the moonlight. It looked eerie, and I couldn’t figure out why he was so calm when strangers had been breaking in, shooting, trying to kill us. Why hadn’t he come tearing after them, snarling and barking and snapping the way he did when he treed a squirrel or chased a rabbit?
I didn’t have time to dwell on that now, though. “Prairie, I have to get Rascal!” I screamed. I thrust Chub at her and she took him, protesting as I ran and picked Rascal up.
I tightened all the muscles in my back, waiting for the impact of a bullet as I ran to the car, but none came. Rascal was warm and soft in my arms, and he didn’t protest at being bounced around. I almost dropped him as I opened the car, and when he landed on the floor of the backseat, he nearly fell.