Shot Down by Jonathan Mary-Todd

Author:Jonathan Mary-Todd
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781467700153
Publisher: Lerner Publishing Group
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

I

stared up at the two-headed horse, not believing. The man behind the reins said nothing. His hair was black and cut close. I couldn’t make out his eyes in the darkness.

“Hold them there, Dennis!” shouted the father, Carter. I turned my head slowly to see him walking toward the edge of the yard, his rifle pointed at me or the Captain.

“Hands up,” he said. “Don’t move.”

“I won’t say I told ya so,” murmured the Captain.

Kyle followed his father at a distance. The father kept his gun raised when he reached us. He looked up at the man on horseback.

“Thank you, Dennis. I think we’ll be all right for the moment. Why don’t you lead Roman back inside?”

The man on horseback, Dennis, nodded and then tapped the side of the horse with his boot. They took off around the edge of the house.

“You saw that, right?” the Captain whispered. “With the two heads?”

I gave a quick nod, trying to keep still for the man with the gun.

“We saw you earlier. You’re responsible for the dogs,” the father said. “What are you doing here?”

When neither of us spoke, he moved the rifle closer to the Captain’s face.

“Close range,” the man continued coolly. “Even with two of you, you try anything and you’re likely to lose your head. Now—what are you doing here?”

“You, eh, shot us down,” the Captain said. “Remember?”

The man’s expression broke for a moment, flushed with anger. “This is my home. This is still very upsetting.” He called to his son, keeping his stare on us. “Kyle! Come over here. Don’t be afraid. I want you to reach into my back pocket—the ropes are there.”

The boy edged forward and took the ropes, then carefully tied my wrists and the Captain’s. With the extra rope hanging off, he tied our separate bindings together.

“Come on,” the father said. “Slowly. We’re going inside.”

• • •

The hallways within the house were long and wide, lit on both sides by rows of candles. The floors below our feet were smooth wood, with rugs spaced evenly along them.

The son walked several steps in front of us. His father walked behind, still armed but with the gun at his side. Kyle led us into the room where they’d been having dinner.

The boy’s mother looked frightened when we entered, but she forced a smile. “My wife, Georgine,” the father told us. “Sit down.”

The Captain and I took the two extra chairs Georgine had set out, our bound hands in front of us.

“We’d like to offer you dessert,” the father said.

“The berries come from just outside,” said his wife, nervous, still smiling. She lifted the top from a small round jar in the corner.

“I bet that’s real refreshing after a big plate of people,” snarled the Captain.

Georgine’s face went sour, and she focused on the fruit, making a series of scoops onto shiny little plates.

“We only hunt,” Carter said, “for sport.”

A grunt trailed in from the hallway, followed by the squeak of wheels. The old man entered, the one we’d only heard before.

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