Cry Baby Hollow (36 page)

“Thus reinforcing my original opinion of you as a complete idiot,” Aubrey retorted. “You heard Rose. They were laying a trap for me today.”

“Well, yeah,” Joe said. “You shot one of ‘em, got their grandma locked up in the loony bin, and seem to be tryin’ to peg a murder charge on ‘em. I’d imagine they don’t like you one bit. Me? I’m just here for the fish. They leave me alone and I do the same for them.”

“And you’re willing to bet your life on that?” She asked.

“I’ll be right back,” Joe assured her. “Then you can barricade us in and make like it’s the Alamo, but only if I get to be Daniel Boone.”

“It was James Bowie at the Alamo, not Daniel Boone.”

“I don’t care,” Joe said teasingly. “I get to be Daniel Boone or I ain’t playin’. He got the cool hat.”

“Okay,” Aubrey agreed. “But only if you agree to wear the hat and nothing else.”

“Deal!” He told her gleefully.

He came around the table and, taking her hands, pulled her to her feet.

“You know I don’t want any part of this decision,” he told her. “But I’ll be happy to sit here holed up with you while you think on it.” He placed his hand under her chin and tipped her face up so he could look her in the eye. “You know I’ll love you either way, right?” He asked.

Aubrey nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Joe leaned down and kissed her.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised.

“At least take the Mossberg,” Aubrey pleaded.

Joe rolled his eyes. “I hate to ruin your opinion of me as the consummate redneck, but I don’t even know which one the Mossberg is, let alone how to shoot it.”

“It’s the shotgun,” she told him.

“You keep it,” he told her, kissing her on the forehead and heading for the door. “You’re the one they’ve got it in for.”

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

As soon as
Joe was out the door, Aubrey went into the closet and plugged in the cable to connect the security system to her laptop. She grabbed the night scope for the Beretta and limped out to her desk, and then pulled up the security cameras there and hit manual override, to turn them on even if there was no motion. She watched Joe’s truck pull into the driveway and held her breath until she saw him pull the RV door closed behind him. She picked up the phone and dialed his number.

“You
miss me already?” He asked, answering on the first ring.

“Will you do me a favor?” She asked.

“Just name it,” he told her.

“Will you lock your door and call me before you leave so I don’t have to sit here in a panic until you get back?”

“Aubrey…”

“Are we fishing?” She asked him.

“Huh?”

“You told me you’d defer to me in all things related to my areas of expertise, if I deferred to you about fishing. So are we fishing?”

“No,” he told her, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I don’t guess we are.”

“Then please lock your door and call me before you open it again.”

“Will do,” he promised.

She hung up and grabbed a pair of scissors off of her desk, then hobbled over to where Joe had stacked the cases of ammo and began pulling out the individual boxes and cutting the tops off. She grabbed her leather jacket off the back of the chair where she’d left it and began counting out shells and shoving them into pockets. Each pocket got ten shotgun shells. The Mossberg could only hold nine, if you counted one in the chamber, but she was prepared to drop at least one ever time she reloaded.

She arranged the boxes the same way, tops cut off, ten shells in each one. She grabbed a mixing bowl from the kitchen, the closest thing on hand, and put all the extra shells in it. After the entire top level of one case was done, she heaved it to the side and went to work on the second one.

She pulled out the five new clips for the Beretta, grateful she had chosen such a common gun and that Fat Daddy’s had had them on hand, and filled them all. She took the clips and fixed two of them into the strap that held her holster, which was all it would hold. The others she placed in the back pocket of her jeans. She grabbed the jacket, alarmed by its added weight, and the Mossberg, and went back to her laptop.

She watched the screen and wondered how nice she would have to ask to get Matt to give her back the M4. Could she possibly explain the situation to him? Would he believe her, and if he did, what would he do? They had been friends for a long time but their friendship had never really been tested. She trusted him with her life, but could she trust him with this secret?

She decided that if it were only her and the Mosleys, she could and would, but with Vina and all the others involved… She couldn’t do anything that might land them all in some underground government laboratory or splashed across the evening news.

Aubrey looked at the monitor. She could see the lights filtering through Joe’s windows, but couldn’t see anything inside. How long had he said he’d stay? A few minutes? She picked up the phone and dialed. It rang ten times before she hung up. His truck was still in the driveway. Had something been waiting for him inside? She remembered watching him enter the RV. He hadn’t used a key because it hadn’t been locked.

Aubrey jumped up and grabbed her keys. She threw on her jacket and limped toward the door, carrying her cane and the shotgun awkwardly. They had taken the muscle from her right leg because it was stronger and more likely to recover, but she really wished they would have destroyed her left, so her right hand wouldn’t always be occupied with the cane.

She was only a few steps from the door when the phone rang. She hobbled back and picked it up.

“Was that you?” Joe asked.

“Yes,” she sighed, flooded with relief. “What’s going on over there?”

“Nothin’,” Joe assured her. “I got the scan runnin’ and grabbed some clothes to bring to your place. I was in the bathroom when you called.”

“Are you coming back now?” She asked.

“You sure you don’t wanna go to a hotel tonight?” He asked her. “I hear the Family Inn had fireplaces and Jacuzzi tubs.”

“I hear they have roaches and orange shag carpets,” she countered. “Besides, you know we can’t get everyone to go, and I feel better knowing that as long as they’re focused on me, they’re leaving the others alone. I couldn’t live with it if we left and they decided to hurt someone else instead.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re bein’ a little too paranoid. They got no reason to start a war.”

“Joe,” Aubrey said, looking at the monitor, “Tell me your doors are locked.”

It was her voice that alerted him that something was wrong. She had sounded as if she were on the verge of panic all afternoon, but now her voice was cool and professional.

“They are,” he assured her.

“Does the RV actually run?” She asked.

“’Fraid not,” he told her.

“You probably couldn’t get out past your truck even if it did,” she told him. “I need you to find some kind of weapon,” she said, struggling into the overloaded jacket. “I’m going to cover you as you go to your truck, but I’ll feel better if you’re armed, okay?”

“I told you I don’t even know how to shoot. I don’t have any weapons.”

“You have cooking knives?” Aubrey asked. “A fire extinguisher in the kitchen?”

“Both,” he told her. “But you need to stay inside. They ain’t dumb animals, they’ll have sent someone over to your place too.”

“I only have to crack my door to get a shot,” she told him. “But the range is long. The best we can hope for is that…”

The phone went dead. Aubrey swore under her breath and grabbed her cell. She dialed 911 and told the operator who she was and that her house was on fire. It was faster and easier than saying there was an intruder and she just wanted sirens and lights. The woman on the other end of the phone gasped.

“The Beanie Weenie plant is on fire too, ma’am. I’ll get someone over to your location as soon as possible, but they were in the middle of a shift change when it started and all our rescue crews and police are there now handling the evacuation. Are you inside the house?”

“Just get someone here. I don’t care if it’s the damn health inspector,” she snapped, disconnecting the call. On the monitor, she saw Joe’s door open a crack and his head poke out. She swore under her breath.

Run
, she begged him silently.
Don’t let them know you’re coming out, just run
.

Joe took a hesitant step forward and stopped to look around. Aubrey saw the trees beside his driveway rustle again. They weren’t dumb animals, that was certain. Not only were they being careful to avoid her cameras, but she’d lay good odds that they were behind the fire at the plant as well.

“Drake,” she called, snatching up the shotgun and running to her back door as fast as she could manage. She slid open the door and pulled out the Beretta, shifting the shotgun to her left hand and grasping the pistol in her right, unwilling to relinquish her grip on either of them. Through the scope, she could just make out Joe, still standing on his steps.

“Run,” she yelled at the top of her lungs, praying he could hear her. She flipped open her cell phone, hit the speed dial button for Matt, and dropped the phone on the floor without bothering to see if he answered. If he did, she knew he would recognize the sound of gunfire and send help as quickly as he could. She fired two shots into the trees closest to his truck for good measure. She pushed the door further open and stepped out onto the deck.

“Drake, stay. Guard,” she told him. The last thing she needed was for something to slip in behind her and seal off any retreat. She took another step forward and fired again, this time at something that actually moved. She didn’t need to hit anything, she reminded herself. She just needed to keep them pinned for a minute.

“Go,” she yelled again.

Joe must have heard her that time, because he jumped down his steps and dashed toward his truck, fire extinguisher in one hand and keys in the other.

Good boy
, she thought, just as he fell sprawling onto the ground. Aubrey thought, at first, that it was the mud from the day’s hard rain that had toppled him, but then she saw him kick backwards and realized that there was something
under
the RV. It had grabbed his ankle when he stepped down, and now it was pulling him backward. Aubrey couldn’t see it, let alone hit it. She saw him swing the fire extinguisher in a wide arc and heard the clang as it glanced off the underside of the RV.

Aubrey walked forward slowly, keeping her gun up and trying to find a shot. A wolf leapt out of the trees beside his truck and she fired the Beretta, aiming for the head. It fell in midair, landing in a furry pile. She looked back to where Joe was still struggling not to be pulled under the RV. She couldn’t fire without risking hitting him, and she knew that even if she made it to her car and drove, she’d never make it in time to do any good.

“Drake,” she called.

He bounded forward, teeth bared.

“Go guard Joe,” she told him, hoping he understood. In a best case scenario, she had expected him to start barking or maybe run off down the road, but Drake apparently didn’t like werewolves any more than she did. He ran down the dock and dove into the lake, swimming toward Joe’s dock for all he was worth.

Aubrey watched as the wolf she had shot seemed to melt away like a sandcastle hit by a wave, and then reformed. One moment it was a wolf, then it was a featureless lump, then it was a naked girl. Aubrey shot the ground beside the girl and sent her scurrying into the underbrush. Clearly one shot, even to the head, wasn’t sufficient. She glanced over to see how Joe was holding up, and saw that he was now at least using the fire extinguisher as she’d intended, spraying the chemical foam under the RV and hopefully right into the things face. She felt the dock shift slightly beneath her and froze.

Now that she was focusing on herself, instead of Joe, she could feel the footsteps coming up behind her. Something heavy. She dropped the Beretta with a clatter and brought the Mossberg up, swinging around. The thing was only a few feet away.

“Rose?” She asked hesitantly.

It took a step forward, grinning at her. It wasn’t a nice grin. Aubrey pulled the trigger, not bothering to aim at this range. It staggered back and she chambered another round and fired again, this time at its face. A scream came from across the lake. Aubrey spun around and cursed. Without the night scope on the Beretta, she couldn’t see what was happening over there. She snatched it up and saw Joe, back on his feet, but surrounded by wolves. Drake stood beside him, he was either covered in blood or mud, but if he was injured, he certainly wasn’t showing it. The wolves circled and Drake kept feinting toward them, jaws snapping, making them jump away.

Aubrey aimed carefully and clipped one of the wolves in the leg. It went down and rolled away, toward the trees. As soon as it was clear of Joe and Drake she opened up, unloading the rest of her clip into, ejecting it, slamming in another and firing until that one was spent as well. The other wolves panicked and yelped, not wanting to abandon their comrade or their prey, but not feeling inclined to getting the shit shot out of them either.

Aubrey slammed in another clip, picked a new target and began the process again. She counted nine of them, and she knew she’d need to go inside for more ammo if they didn’t give up soon.

The wolves seemed to come to a decision. They scattered into the trees. Drake tore after them and Aubrey could hear Joe screaming for him to come back.

Forget the dog
, she begged him silently.
Just go
.

She turned to check on her friend behind her, only to find it had vanished. She saw a bloody trail on the deck where it had fallen, as if it had been dragged away, rather than shifted and fled. She turned back in time to see Joe start the engine and flick on his headlights. In their glare, she saw a white streak dart past. Drake, she realized, was still at large.

She holstered the Beretta and picked up the Mossberg, limping forward slowly, keeping an eye on the darkness beside the deck. She got to the back door and ducked into the cabin, hitting the lights and closing and locking the sliding door behind her. Checking the interior for any sign of an intruder, she cut directly across to the front door and went back out onto the deck, hitting the exterior flood lights.

A wolf was standing in her yard, teeth bared. Aubrey limped forward, bringing up the Mossberg. It lunged at her and she fired, chambered a round, and fired again. She took the steps slowly, keeping the wolf in her sights but not wanting to waste more ammo until she could get a point black shot at its head. She only made it as far as the bottom step before she saw it begin to change. Before she could fire, a young girl was standing in the wounded wolf’s place.

Aubrey recognized her as one of the witches she’d seen what seemed like a lifetime ago. She leveled the shotgun at the girls face and walked forward as quickly as she could, until they were standing only a few feet apart. The girl watched her approach defiantly, unconcerned.

“You’uns won’t shoot me now,” the girl said.

“Go home,” Aubrey told her.

“Make me,” the girl said with a smirk.

Aubrey pulled the trigger.