Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“You’re trapped, you little bitch. But first, I’m going to teach you a lesson.” The man swore and took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the blood running down his cheek. “You almost took my eye out.” He bent and picked up a stick off the ground. “And now I’m gonna do the same to you.”
All my planning. All my work, and my luck runs out here.
Mom. Dad. Help me.
The thought almost made him sob, but he gulped it back.
The nose picker advanced, and Cyrus glanced over his shoulder. If he took more than five steps back, he’d fall off the cliff. He’d hurl to the bottom, bouncing off each small ledge before landing in the rocks below, just like the pebbles had.
The man took another step forward, and Cyrus risked one step back. Away. “After I take out your eye, I’m gonna hang you over that cliff by your feet until you shit yourself. I’m gonna make you squeal like a little pig. You think you were scared in that room? You don’t know scared. You don’t know pain. But you’re about to. And then it’s going to become your whole existence.”
The loud shaking of a tree caught their attention, and the man looked back as Cyrus focused his gaze on the rustling branches. A flash of black appeared in a gap, and Cyrus sucked in a breath as the man swore, raising his gun and aiming.
But as quick as that, the trees went still, and the branches to the right began moving with whatever large creature was back there.
A bear. It has to be a black bear.
Cyrus wanted to cry. His knees began shaking as his lip trembled. He’d begged for help, and things had gotten worse.
The man fired his gun into the moving tree, but then the one next to that one started swaying with movement, and he fired again. The blasts were so loud that Cyrus cried out, going to his knees and bringing his hands to his ears.
All the trees seemed to be shaking and moving now with whatever hulking thing was in there, flashes of black giving the man something to shoot at. He whipped his gun back and forth, firing repeatedly. Cyrus used the opportunity to “walk” on his knees away from the edge of the basin and to the right of the man. But even if the kidnapper remained occupied and he made it past him, he’d have to dive through the same tree where the massive creature was.
He stopped again, frozen with dread. And suddenly, the trees stopped moving entirely, the branches going still.
“Got you, fucker!” the nose picker yelled, pivoting back toward Cyrus, looking surprised that he’d moved. He advanced, and Cyrus put his hands on the earth, gripping the sandy dirt like it might anchor him to the ground when this man tried to drag him to his death.
“Hey, asshole.”
At the sound of the voice, Cyrus let out a bark of fear and the man spun around yet again, bringing his weapon up. It wasn’t a bear. It was a man. He was tall and muscular, and his black hair glinted in the sun.
“Who the fuck are you? Stop right there or I’ll shoot,” the kidnapper yelled.
“I’m here for Cyrus.”
Cyrus’s heart continued to gallop, breath hitched as he watched the exchange. He didn’t understand this. This man was here for him, but he wasn’t with the nose picker. Was he one of them? The bad men? Or was he good?
“The hell you are. Get back. Who sent you?”
The black-haired man tipped his chin at Cyrus while keeping his gaze on the man with the gun. “Cyrus, head toward the trees.”
The nose picker swung the gun toward Cyrus. “Stay there,” he yelled. “Do not move a muscle.”
The black-haired man took another step forward. “You’re not going to harm him. He’s precious goods. What would happen if you killed the merchandise?” He took another step forward. “Plus, you’re out of bullets.”
The man reached in his pocket, his lips spreading into a grin as he dropped something from the gun on the ground and shoved whatever had been in his pocket into the gun. “Checkmate,” he said. And Cyrus didn’t know all the parts of a gun, but he was smart enough to know that the man had just put more bullets in.
The black-haired man’s expression didn’t change, but Cyrus swore his muscles flexed, and then he went still. He hadn’t expected that. Cyrus’s hope had flared briefly, and now it plummeted again.
The kidnapper kept the gun on the man with the black hair, and he moved quickly toward Cyrus. He was going to grab Cyrus, and then he was probably going to kill this guy, whoever he was. Then he’d do whatever he wanted to Cyrus. His fingers dug into the soft dirt, and suddenly he realized that he did have a weapon. He was already holding one.