F Wilson: Deep as the Marrow

Poppy huddled with Katie, who wailed in terror as they watched the two men struggle for the gun. Lester was holding his own but Poppy wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. She looked around for something to hit Mac with and spotted Lester’s applejack jug against the wall.

As she began to crawl toward it, another shot blasted through the room. She felt this one whiz past—right between her head and Katie’s. Katie huddled on the floor, eyes closed, hands over her ears, screaming.

Without hesitation, she picked her up and ran for the open door. She had to get Katie outside—the next shot could hit either of them—then she’d come back to help out Lester.

She’d carried Katie maybe twenty feet through the almost night of the rain when she heard a third shot behind her, followed by a cry of pain.

Poppy rounded the corner of the house, then stopped and peeked back, hoping, praying that Lester would appear in the lit doorway. It took a long time, but finally someone stepped through and looked around.

Mac.

With a small cry, she spun and dashed for the brush at the rear of the house. He hadn’t seen her—or had he? Maybe he’d go the other way.

Still carrying Katie, she crashed through the bushes for a good dozen or so feet, then turned and crouched behind a tree, panting. She and Katie were soaked through to the skin. No shelter from this rain—the wind seemed to be driving it at them from all directions. Katie shivered against Poppy and began to cry.

“I want to go home! I want my Daddy!”

“Hush, honey bunch,” she whispered frantically, placing her hand gently over Katie’s mouth. “If that man hears you, he’ll find us.” She rocked Katie, trying to soothe her. With the dark and the rain and the thunder, maybe they could survive here until the rest of the Appletons returned from their stills—if they kept quiet.

Katie seemed to be calming down until a bolt of lightning sizzled into a tree not a dozen feet to their left, and the simultaneous thunder clap knocked them flat. Katie wailed in terror then, long and loud, lasting well after the thunder had faded, and Poppy knew Mac had heard it. How could he not have?

They had to move, but she couldn’t cover any ground carrying Katie. She’d have to go without her.

“Katie,” she said, peeling the dripping child off her, “I’m going for help. You stay here and keep quiet and I’ll be right back.” I hope.

Katie wailed again and grabbed for her. “No! Don’t leave me!”

“I got to, honey bunch,” she said, fending her off. “It’s the only way. Just sit tight and don’t make a sound.” Poppy gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and resisted the impulse to hug her—she might never get free. Then she turned and slipped away.

She felt like such a creep, leaving her there cold, wet, crying, and scared half to death. But this was their only chance. At least Katie was alive.

Her regrets faded into fear as she bent into a crouch and began running through the bushes, making as much noise as she could.

“Help!” she shouted as she ran. “Help! Murder! Somebody! Help!” But how much noise was too much? She wanted to draw Mac off, but she sure as hell didn’t want him to find her.

She could make out the Appleton house to her right. Some of the windows—and there weren’t all that many of them to begin with—were lit, but mostly it looked dark and empty. She thought she saw movement around the side but couldn’t be sure. Were all the women and kids hiding? Afraid of the storm or afraid of the shots? Where was Levon now when she needed him? He looked like he could break Mac in half with one hand.

Her heart pounding, she kept thrashing through the bushes, moving away from Katie, and yelling as loud as she could. No way Mac could miss hearing her.

She paused between thunder claps and looked around, listening. She heard the rain, her own harsh breathing… and something else. Scraping branches, breaking twigs… getting closer… coming this way.

Oh, Jesus, it had worked. She’d pulled Mac away from Katie, but now she had to find a way to keep herself alive until help came. Had to keep moving. But which way? Where was he? What direction was the noise coming from? The sounds mixed with the falling rain and seemed to come from everywhere—like the rain.

Suddenly, the loud crack of a breaking branch to her right. So close! Poppy bolted to her left, moving as fast as she could. The underbrush was thick here, and she had to move sideways to slip through. One advantage of being smaller than Mac—these thickets would slow him up even more.

She almost fell as the brush suddenly thinned and she stumbled into a small clearing. Now she could really move.

But she skidded to a halt when she saw the shadow a dozen feet ahead of her. She couldn’t see his face but she recognized his voice from the single word he spoke.

“Bitch!” As Poppy screamed and turned to run back the way she’d come, she saw a flash and heard a shot.

Missed!

She ducked into a crouch and veered left. She saw the house ahead. Please let me make it there! If she could put the house between Mac and her—and keep it there—she had a chance.

Another shot and suddenly she felt as if she’d been hit by a truck. A crushing, tearing, pain against her back, ripping into her chest, hurling her forward. She felt the ground slam against her front, felt the mud and pine needles slop against her face. And then she stopped feeling.

Her last thought before the darkness took her was terror… Katie… alone there… with no one to protect her… Katie… I’m so sorry!

Snake ran up to where Poppy lay and flipped her over onto her back. He dropped to his knees beside her and shoved the muzzle of the Cobra under her jaw. He wanted to pull the trigger now. Goddamn how he wanted to pull that trigger but not yet. He gritted his teeth and held off.

“The tape!” he shouted. “Where’s the tape? Tell me and I’ll let the kid live!” Not true. Not even close to true. But so what?

She didn’t answer. His fury surged. But as he raised his left arm to give her a backhand slap across her face, lightning flashed and he saw her slack features, the blood on her shirt and the dark trickle from the corner of her mouth.

“Shit!” Of all the goddamn luck. He’d never been more than a mediocre shot, and now, when winging Poppy was all he’d needed, he’d gone and killed her. He jammed the pistol into his belt and began poking through her pockets. He’d already checked that rat-hole room he’d found her in.

Empty. Nothing on her. Nothing. Snake jumped to his feet. The kid. She’d been running around without the kid. Which meant she’d left her somewhere. And maybe the tape with her.

He looked around, trying to remember where he’d heard her first shout for help… Over there, wasn’t it?

Snake started in that direction.

20

“Hear that?” Decker said as they stepped out of the car. “Sounded like a shot.”

John strained his ears and wondered how Decker had heard anything above the rain, thunder, and slamming car doors. He squinted through the dimness at the red panel truck tucked behind the motley array of pickups.

The Mulliner brothers had leapt from their pickup and were checking out the mud-splattered Jeep Cherokee that sat in the middle of the clearing.

“This don’t belong here, Luke,” the bearded one was saying. “This don’t belong here ay-tall.”

“We better get up the house,” the bigger one said as he and his brother returned to the cab of their pickup and pulled shotguns from the rack across the rear window.

“Is that where Katie is?” John said.

Both stared at him from under the dripping peaks of their caps.

“You the little girl’s daddy?” the bigger one said.