Killing Hour - Lisa Gardner [158]
“To the right,” Mac said, low under his breath.
But almost immediately the sound came again, this time from their left.
“Woods are distorting it,” Kimberly panted.
“We can’t lose our bearings.”
“Too late.”
Kimberly’s cell phone vibrated on her hip. She snatched it with her left hand, still holding her gun in her right, and trying to look everywhere at once. The trees swirled darkly around her, the woods closing in.
“Where’s Ennunzio?” her father said in her ear.
“I don’t know.”
“There is no brother, Kimberly. He died thirty years ago in the fire. It’s Ennunzio. It sounds as if he may have a brain tumor and has now experienced a psychotic break. You must consider him armed and dangerous.”
“Dad,” Kimberly said softly. “I smell fire.”
Tina’s head came up sharply. Her eyes were swollen shut again; she couldn’t see, but her hearing was just fine. Noise. Lots of noise. Footsteps and panting and crackling underbrush. It was as if the swamp overhead had suddenly exploded with activity. Rescuers!
“Hello?” she tried weakly. Her voice came out as nothing more than a croak.
She swallowed, tried again, and got little better results.
Desperate now, she attempted to pull herself up. Her arms trembled violently, too exhausted to bear her weight. But then she heard a fresh pounding of footsteps and adrenaline surged through her veins. She heaved herself half upright, groping around vainly in the mud. Something squished between her fingers, something plopped by her hand.
She gave up on caution, and brought a big handful of muck to her mouth, sucking greedily at the mud. Moisture for her parched throat, lips. So close, so close, so close.
“Hello,” she tried again. “Down here!”
Her voice was slightly louder now. Then she heard a faint pause, and sensed a presence suddenly close.
“Hello, hello, hello!”
“Clock ticking,” a clear voice whispered from above. “Heat kills.”
And the next thing Tina knew, she felt a sharp pain on her hand, as if a pair of fangs had finally found her flesh.
“Ow!” She slapped at her hand, feeling the heat of the flames. “Ow, ow, ow.” She beat at the heat frantically, squashing the match into the mud. Son of a bitch. Now he was trying to burn her out!
That did it. Tina staggered to her feet. She raised her tired arms over her head, balling her hands into fists. Then she screamed at the top of her sandpaper-dry throat. “You come down here and face me, you bastard. Come on. Fight like a man!”
Her legs promptly collapsed beneath her. She lay there in the mud, dazed and panting. She heard more sounds, this time the man running away. Perversely, she missed him; it was the closest to a human connection she’d had in days.
Hey, she thought weakly. She smelled smoke.
Kimberly was blowing frantically on her whistle. Three sharp blasts. Mac was whistling, too. They could see smoke now directly ahead. They raced to the pile of leaves, kicking them open and stomping furiously on the burning embers.
More smoke spiraled from the left, while a sputtering sound came from the right. Kimberly blew futilely on her whistle. Mac, too.
Then they were off to the right and off to the left, dashing through the woods and desperately seeking out the dozens of burning piles.
“We need water.”
“None left.”
“Damp clothing?”
“Only what I’m wearing.” Mac peeled off his soaked shirt and used it to smother a burning stump.
“It’s Ennunzio. No brother. Has a brain tumor. Apparently has gone insane.” Kimberly kicked frantically at yet another pile of smoldering leaves. Snakes? She didn’t have time to worry about them anymore.
A fresh sound of rustling tree limbs came from their right. Kimberly jerked toward the noise, already raising her gun and trying to find a target. A deer raced by, followed swiftly by two more. For the first time, she became aware of the full activity around them. Squirrels scrambling up trees, birds taking to the air. Soon they would probably see otters, raccoons, and foxes, a desperate exodus