Death Through a Dark Green Glass by Julia Buckley

Author:Julia Buckley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Julia Buckley
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“It dawned on me, in that moment, that we were surrounded. And then I understood the meaning of helplessness.”

--from One of Us is Guilty, by Gloria Gale, 2014.

“Sam!” My scream was pitched so high it barely made sound at all. I stumbled to my feet and ran, fears tumbling over each other in my head. We were about to get married! We were supposed to be happy. This was meant to be the year of good things for Sam, after several years of suffering. How could the universe do this to him? To us? No, no, no, no, went the refrain as I ran.

He wasn’t dead. By the time I threw myself on the ground beside him he had struggled to a sitting position. I was patting him all over. “Are you hurt? Are you shot?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I think so. But I’m not gushing blood; I think it’s a graze. Who’s the lunatic out here with a shotgun?”

Feet ran toward us, and Doug and Cliff knelt to examine Sam.

“Where have you been?” I asked, feeling angry, but sounding near tears.

“We’ve been stalking a killer,” Doug said. “And not finding him.”

“David’s shot,” I said.

“I know. Oliver has him. We all need to get out of the open, before he picks us off one by one.”

“Why?” I asked. “What did we do? Is this person just insane?”

Cliff had been checking out Sam’s injury. “It’s a nasty graze on the top of your shoulder. It’s going to hurt like hell for a few weeks, but you were mightily lucky.”

Doug looked thoughtful. “Get his coat, and let’s go. Run!”

We all ran, keeping low and clustered together. We made it to the trees, and waited for Oliver to join us, supporting David under his good arm. A minute later we heard sirens.

“Hold on, buddy,” Oliver said. He was worried; how much blood had David lost?

“Do my best,” David muttered. He seemed close to losing consciousness. I bent and scooped a handful of snow, then dabbed some on David’s cheeks. His eyes widened, and he nodded. “Thanks, Lena.”

We plodded through the snow; I clutched Sam’s hand in an iron grip, not willing to let him go. Smilla stayed close to him, moving silently at his feet.

For a surreal moment we all stopped, listening. Aside from the sirens, the forest was silent, and yet we had all sensed something, nearby and sinister.

“Hold still,” Doug ordered in a whisper.

A figure burst out of the trees in front of us, breathing raggedly, just as we heard another rifle shot. The figure screamed; it was Zoe, and as she moved closer, we saw that her face was covered in blood.

***

“Get him, get him!” Zoe cried, obviously close to hysteria. “He attacked me.”

“Who attacked you?” Doug asked as Cliff moved forward to examine her wound.

“I don’t know.” She took a deep breath. I thought she was trying not to cry.

“Why are you out here?” Doug asked.

She shuddered. “I couldn’t sleep, and I went downstairs to see if there were any more of the snacks.

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