Sweet Dreams
Page 173
I looked behind me to see him closing in. I looked forward, came out at a clearing and saw the headlights to my left. They shocked me so much my body shuddered to a halt but the truck was right there and I threw out an arm as it skidded across the mud, its brake lights illuminating its tail in a flash of red.
Before it stopped, it came so close to me, my palm came to rest on the hot hood. It did this for only a second before I looked through the windscreen and saw Tate.
Relief flooded through me and I mouthed the word, “Baby.”
Then Dalton hit me in the back in a tackle, pain seared through me and I went down full frontal on the mud in front of Tate’s Explorer, the double blow of pain from hit and landing, not to mention my head landing on a rock, meant I was out like a light.
* * * * *
Wood
“Buck!” Wood shouted but Tate wasn’t listening. Tate was gone. Tate was gripped tight in a fury so extreme nothing was going to break through.
Wood had to break through. Wood had checked her after Tate yanked Dalton off of her and Laurie was breathing and coming to but she was bleeding from a stab wound and beaten. She didn’t need to survive this only to spend the next five to ten visiting Tate in the penitentiary.
Wood got close to Tate who was holding Dalton up by the neck of his t-shirt and beating his already bloodied to a pulp face into a bloodier pulp. He wrapped both his arms around Tate, taking Tate’s arms down to his sides so Dalton crumpled to the ground and Wood yanked Tate back, shouting again, “Buck! We gotta get Laurie down the hill.”
Tate jerked violently to the side, focused, wanting to get back to his target and Wood’s body went with him but he held on with everything he had.
Then Wood heard trucks arriving.
Thank, f**king, God, Wood thought.
“It’s over, get her to the hospital,” he said.
Tate’s body jerked again and Wood again went with it, his eyes on Tate’s profile, Tate’s eyes looking down on the moaning, crawling body of Dalton.
“She’s injured, Buck, take her to the hospital,” Wood whispered, using the only thing he had to break through.
More trucks arrived, headlights everywhere, rushing feet.
“Got her, got her, goin’ down the hill,” Wood heard Deke shout and then men were all around.
Wood felt it safe to let Tate go and turned to see Deke’s back departing on a jog, Laurie held in his arms.
“I’m with him!” the hippie guy, Shambles, yelled and then took off after Deke.
“Motherfucker!” Bubba bellowed, yanked back a foot and then landed a kick so savage in Dalton’s bleeding side, Dalton howled with pain even as he rolled twice.
Bubba stalked the step it took to get back to Dalton and landed another kick before Wings, Stoney and Pop were on him, pulling him back.
“Where are the f**kin’ cops, this is what I wanna f**kin’ know!” Steg shouted, standing in the grass, staring down at Dalton.
Wood had no answer to that and it occurred to him that Tate had not moved nor spoken in the last two minutes so his eyes moved to his friend to see Tate still staring at the ground even though Dalton was no longer in his line of sight.
Pop saw it too because he called, “Buck?”
“Two sets of tracks,” Tate muttered.
“What?” Wood asked, getting close to his side as Pop got close to the other.
“Warm winter, ground not frozen solid,” Tate was still muttering, his eyes pinned to the dirt. “Two sets of tracks. One back and forth. One just forward.”
Wood looked to the ground and stared but he couldn’t see it. Then again, he wasn’t a tracker like Tate was.
“What are you thinkin’?” Wood asked the ground then looked at Tate to see his head was up and he was staring into the distance.
“She was on the run,” Tate whispered. “He’d been shot.”
“Tate, son, let us in on what’s goin on up there,” Pop urged, his finger jabbing impatiently toward Tate’s head but Tate turned abruptly and headed back to the Explorer. Sirens could be heard in the distance but Tate had opened the driver’s side door.
Wood wasted only the second it took to catch his father’s eyes then he sprinted to the passenger side door. He was still swinging himself in when Tate accelerated so fast, the tires skidded, spewing mud which was good because it gave Wings the second he needed to yank Dalton’s body clear of the track as the Explorer barreled forward.
Wood got his ass in the seat, slammed the door and turned to Tate. “Talk to me.”
“Someone else is up there,” Tate said.
“Who? A partner?” Wood asked.
“No,” Tate answered, “a hero.”
* * * * *
Lauren
I opened my eyes. It was dark. I smelled hospital. I felt no pain.
I turned my head to the side and saw Tate.
He was awake, sitting in a chair pulled close to the side of my bed, his elbows to his knees, his eyes bloodshot, he looked wiped.
“Hey,” I whispered and I felt my lips form a small smile.
His eyes dropped to my mouth then they closed, so slowly it felt like it took ten minutes watching him do it.
Then his head dropped and he muttered to his knees, “Jesus f**king Christ. Jesus f**king Christ.”
“Honey,” I whispered and his head shot up and then he filled my vision because his mouth was on mine, gentle but firm and his big hands had spanned either side of my head, holding me still.
He broke the connection of our lips and he rested his forehead against mine.
“Baby,” he whispered.
“Jim-Billy?” I asked.
“Okay, knife did more damage on him than you, went through his stomach, but they patched him up.”
I closed my eyes this time then opened them to have the only thing I saw be his.
“Thank God,” I breathed then asked, “Jonas?”
“Outside sleepin’ on a couch with Krys and Stella and Sunny and Wendy and half of Carnal.”
“Half of Carnal?”
He nodded, his forehead rolling against mine. “Half of Carnal.”
“Must be a big waiting room,” I whispered, realizing this was taking it out of me, my eyelids were getting heavy and I fought it. It was the first time I didn’t want to sleep.
Tate saw it and his head came up a couple of inches but both of his hands slid down to my jaws.
“Go to sleep, honey,” he urged gently, both his thumbs lifting up, stroking my cheekbones, “I’ll be here when you get to the other side.”
“Don’t wanna,” I muttered, my lids lowering and, with effort, I pulled them open again.
Before it stopped, it came so close to me, my palm came to rest on the hot hood. It did this for only a second before I looked through the windscreen and saw Tate.
Relief flooded through me and I mouthed the word, “Baby.”
Then Dalton hit me in the back in a tackle, pain seared through me and I went down full frontal on the mud in front of Tate’s Explorer, the double blow of pain from hit and landing, not to mention my head landing on a rock, meant I was out like a light.
* * * * *
Wood
“Buck!” Wood shouted but Tate wasn’t listening. Tate was gone. Tate was gripped tight in a fury so extreme nothing was going to break through.
Wood had to break through. Wood had checked her after Tate yanked Dalton off of her and Laurie was breathing and coming to but she was bleeding from a stab wound and beaten. She didn’t need to survive this only to spend the next five to ten visiting Tate in the penitentiary.
Wood got close to Tate who was holding Dalton up by the neck of his t-shirt and beating his already bloodied to a pulp face into a bloodier pulp. He wrapped both his arms around Tate, taking Tate’s arms down to his sides so Dalton crumpled to the ground and Wood yanked Tate back, shouting again, “Buck! We gotta get Laurie down the hill.”
Tate jerked violently to the side, focused, wanting to get back to his target and Wood’s body went with him but he held on with everything he had.
Then Wood heard trucks arriving.
Thank, f**king, God, Wood thought.
“It’s over, get her to the hospital,” he said.
Tate’s body jerked again and Wood again went with it, his eyes on Tate’s profile, Tate’s eyes looking down on the moaning, crawling body of Dalton.
“She’s injured, Buck, take her to the hospital,” Wood whispered, using the only thing he had to break through.
More trucks arrived, headlights everywhere, rushing feet.
“Got her, got her, goin’ down the hill,” Wood heard Deke shout and then men were all around.
Wood felt it safe to let Tate go and turned to see Deke’s back departing on a jog, Laurie held in his arms.
“I’m with him!” the hippie guy, Shambles, yelled and then took off after Deke.
“Motherfucker!” Bubba bellowed, yanked back a foot and then landed a kick so savage in Dalton’s bleeding side, Dalton howled with pain even as he rolled twice.
Bubba stalked the step it took to get back to Dalton and landed another kick before Wings, Stoney and Pop were on him, pulling him back.
“Where are the f**kin’ cops, this is what I wanna f**kin’ know!” Steg shouted, standing in the grass, staring down at Dalton.
Wood had no answer to that and it occurred to him that Tate had not moved nor spoken in the last two minutes so his eyes moved to his friend to see Tate still staring at the ground even though Dalton was no longer in his line of sight.
Pop saw it too because he called, “Buck?”
“Two sets of tracks,” Tate muttered.
“What?” Wood asked, getting close to his side as Pop got close to the other.
“Warm winter, ground not frozen solid,” Tate was still muttering, his eyes pinned to the dirt. “Two sets of tracks. One back and forth. One just forward.”
Wood looked to the ground and stared but he couldn’t see it. Then again, he wasn’t a tracker like Tate was.
“What are you thinkin’?” Wood asked the ground then looked at Tate to see his head was up and he was staring into the distance.
“She was on the run,” Tate whispered. “He’d been shot.”
“Tate, son, let us in on what’s goin on up there,” Pop urged, his finger jabbing impatiently toward Tate’s head but Tate turned abruptly and headed back to the Explorer. Sirens could be heard in the distance but Tate had opened the driver’s side door.
Wood wasted only the second it took to catch his father’s eyes then he sprinted to the passenger side door. He was still swinging himself in when Tate accelerated so fast, the tires skidded, spewing mud which was good because it gave Wings the second he needed to yank Dalton’s body clear of the track as the Explorer barreled forward.
Wood got his ass in the seat, slammed the door and turned to Tate. “Talk to me.”
“Someone else is up there,” Tate said.
“Who? A partner?” Wood asked.
“No,” Tate answered, “a hero.”
* * * * *
Lauren
I opened my eyes. It was dark. I smelled hospital. I felt no pain.
I turned my head to the side and saw Tate.
He was awake, sitting in a chair pulled close to the side of my bed, his elbows to his knees, his eyes bloodshot, he looked wiped.
“Hey,” I whispered and I felt my lips form a small smile.
His eyes dropped to my mouth then they closed, so slowly it felt like it took ten minutes watching him do it.
Then his head dropped and he muttered to his knees, “Jesus f**king Christ. Jesus f**king Christ.”
“Honey,” I whispered and his head shot up and then he filled my vision because his mouth was on mine, gentle but firm and his big hands had spanned either side of my head, holding me still.
He broke the connection of our lips and he rested his forehead against mine.
“Baby,” he whispered.
“Jim-Billy?” I asked.
“Okay, knife did more damage on him than you, went through his stomach, but they patched him up.”
I closed my eyes this time then opened them to have the only thing I saw be his.
“Thank God,” I breathed then asked, “Jonas?”
“Outside sleepin’ on a couch with Krys and Stella and Sunny and Wendy and half of Carnal.”
“Half of Carnal?”
He nodded, his forehead rolling against mine. “Half of Carnal.”
“Must be a big waiting room,” I whispered, realizing this was taking it out of me, my eyelids were getting heavy and I fought it. It was the first time I didn’t want to sleep.
Tate saw it and his head came up a couple of inches but both of his hands slid down to my jaws.
“Go to sleep, honey,” he urged gently, both his thumbs lifting up, stroking my cheekbones, “I’ll be here when you get to the other side.”
“Don’t wanna,” I muttered, my lids lowering and, with effort, I pulled them open again.
