Peter Leonard - Quiver

Luke watched Teddy come out of the lodge and he was mad-that was pretty obvious, running to his mom, hitting her and going crazy. Punched her in the face and knocked her down.

Luke wanted to run out there and hit Camo and keep hitting him.

DeJuan said, “Yo, Ted, what you doing?”

Teddy said, “Paying her back.”

DeJuan said, “Be cool on the violence.”

Teddy grabbed a fistful of her hair and put the barrel of his gun up to her face. “Think I ain’t gonna see a three-foot-long bear trap on the floor? How dumb you think I am?”

His mom didn’t say anything, although Luke bet she wanted to.

Teddy pulled her across the yard by her hair-closer to the tree line.

He said, “You see her, boy? You see your mother standing here quivering like a scared animal? You gonna let her die?”

Teddy pressed the barrel of his pistol against the side of her face. He was grinning, enjoying himself and now Luke was mad.

DeJuan scanning the tree line, said, “It all in your hands now, little man. Come on, show your moms some love.”

He held the back of her hair in his fist, pulling on it and pressing the barrel end of his automatic against her cheekbone. He was trying to hurt her and he did. Kate could feel his body pressing against her from behind. She didn’t know if Luke was still there or not and said, “Luke, don’t listen to him, run.”

Teddy let go of her hair and swung her around so she was facing him and said, “Better shut the fuck up.”

He hit her in the face with his fist and she went down, dazed from the blow, her vision hazy, trying to focus on DeJuan. He was moving to the tree line, holding the shotgun level across his body, finger on the trigger, aiming at the trees. Teddy bent down and picked her up by the hair.

“Luke, you see him,” Kate said. “He’s coming after you.”

Teddy hit her again and she stumbled but didn’t go down.

He said, “You don’t learn, do you?”

Luke saw the black guy heading toward him with the shotgun, just inside the trees. He moved straight back, out of his path and hid behind a giant maple.

“I’m gonna count to ten,” Teddy said. “You’re not back here, I’ll shoot her dead, so help me God. You hear me, boy?”

Luke put the bow case on the ground and opened it and lifted out his dad’s Browning Mirage. Slid an arrow out of the quiver and nocked it. He wasn’t going to let Camo hit his mother again.

Camo said, “One…”

He was standing behind his mom-to her left.

“Two…”

They were twenty yards away. Luke had a clear shot. He was at the edge of the tree line. He looked right, saw the black guy through the trees, coming back toward him.

“Three…”

Luke’s chest tightened as he tried to raise the bow. He couldn’t breathe. Didn’t have the strength to draw the string. He could feel it happening again.

“Four…”

Teddy pulled the hammer back on the chrome-plate automatic and pressed the barrel against his mom’s cheek, pushing it into her face.

“Five…”

Luke could feel his hands shake and could feel sweat drip down his face.

“Six…”

DeJuan was thirty feet away now, leveling the shotgun.

“Seven…”

He tried to pull the bowstring. It wouldn’t budge.

“Eight…”

He heard his dad like he was standing next to him: “You can do it. Lock your arms, use your shoulders. Shoot the son of a bitch.”

It was as if he’d been in a trance, hypnotized, the sound of his dad’s voice snapping him out of it. He felt strong, raised the bow and put Teddy square in the red circle of the laser sight.

Boom. He heard the shotgun roar and saw a limb blown off a foot away from him.

“Nine…”

He pulled back the string and locked it-in full draw now.

“Ten…”

It was like it happened in slow motion. He stopped digging the gun into her face and let go of her hair, the pain she felt was suddenly gone. Teddy staggered back. She heard the heavy sound of his pistol hitting the hard ground. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the broadhead in his chest-blood blotting his shirt-Teddy staggering like he was drunk, reaching for the arrow, hands grabbing the white bloodstained fletching, trying to pull it out. He looked like he was going to say something-blood bubbling out of his mouth-but didn’t or couldn’t. There was fear in his eyes, knowing he was going to die and knowing there was nothing he could do about it. His hands let go of the arrow and he fell over on his back. His eyes were open, looking up at her, but he was gone.

Now she heard the heavy boom boom of DeJuan’s shotgun. DeJuan coming out of the woods now, racking and firing into the tree line, blowing off limbs. She picked up Teddy’s chrome-plated automatic and moved toward him.

He turned and looked at her and grinned, pointing the shotgun. “Better drop it,” DeJuan said. “Mine’s bigger.”

“There’s just one problem,” Kate said. “You’re empty.” He’d fired five times-she counted, knew the magazine capacity. Her dad had one just like it-a Remington Wingmaster twelve-gauge.

“You wrong, you dead.”

He racked it and pulled the trigger and she heard it click. He looked surprised, dropped the shotgun and said, “Whoa. Hang on now. We can work this out. I’m gonna take the money and let y’all be.”

“You’re not taking anything,” Kate said.

“Think you got the nerve to shoot another human being?” DeJuan said. “Take a life, nice God-fearing suburban momma like yourself?”

Luke appeared now, coming out of the woods. She glanced over at him, took her eye off DeJuan for a second, and when she looked back, he was pulling a gun from under his gold warm-up. She raised the chrome-plate, aimed at his chest, fired and blew him off his feet. She walked over and checked to make sure he was dead. He was, eyes open, a look of surprise frozen on his face.

Luke ran to her now and she put her arms around him and they stood there like that for a long time, not saying a word.

Johnny left his truck on national parkland, deciding to approach McCall’s place from that direction, figuring it was less than a mile. There was no easy way to get there unless you took their private road and he wasn’t about to do that, announce his arrival to whomever happened to be there, armed and dangerous.

He had his great-granddad’s lever-action 1890 model Winchester. A hundred and eighteen years old and still as accurate as any rifle he’d ever fired. Carried it in the truck, wrapped in a blanket behind the seats. He thought it was more appropriate than a bow for what he might encounter. He took the rifle out and loaded it with. 30–30 cartridges. The sky was starting to cloud up and Johnny smelled rain. It was six thirty, getting dark, when he entered the woods. He had about eight-tenths of a mile to go and figured it would take him fifteen, twenty minutes. He just hoped he’d get there in time.

When they went back in the lodge Kate expected to see Jack sitting there in his chains. She had DeJuan’s SigSauer in her hand as a precaution but assumed Celeste had taken the money and was long gone. She was wrong. The two shrink-wrapped bundles of money were stacked on the floor in the breakfast room. Now Celeste came up behind them and put the barrel of her gun against the back of Kate’s head.

Celeste said, “I know what you’re thinking-if you move real fast you can turn and get me before I get you-the way people do in movies. Let me tell you, it ain’t going to happen.”

Kate held the SigSauer at arm’s length, in her left hand. Luke was a couple feet to her right.

Celeste said, “Anybody seen Jack? Must’ve slipped out the back. Got a new plan, Stan. What was the name of that song?”