The Last Handful of Clover - Book 3: The Stone in the Stream

3.56 Shatter

June 16, 8:57 pm

As Richard fled from the body of Sutton Deary, he found himself airborne. But only for a moment. His heels struck the ground, and instantly he was falling backward and flailing, before crashing hard into the gravel floor of the wash. When he looked up, his feet were just inches from the old man on the ground, and Pil was crouched over his writhing body. The big man was still roaring in terrifying fury, and he had Sutton's skull between his huge and powerful hands.

In contrast to Richard's calm, which still lingered from the encounter in Deary's mind, Pil was a flaming sun of rage. Richard realized that even though it had felt like several minutes that he was in Sutton Deary, here, it could not have been more than a second—two at the most. And in that brief span of time, Pil had begun to squeeze.

Chaos exploded all around Richard, and things were happening fast—too fast for him to keep track of, or react to. He still expected bullets to rip into Pil from the ghost in the soldier, but as he turned his head in a panic, he saw the army man was dying—face down against the embankment. Sutton's wild shot when the tire iron hit his forearm must have flown past Pil's temple and struck the soldier before he could get off a shot. He would be dead in seconds, if he wasn't already.

A scream from Carla Grayson made Richard wrench his head around. The woman was rushing forward. She'd watched the crowbar fly through the air and saw it strike her beloved God, and then she'd seen Pil rise up like a furious bear. Now, she was in a panic.

"Keith!" Richard screamed, flopping over onto his belly and reaching one hand uselessly to his lover, a dozen yards away. He half expected to see Keith lying dead, but to his relief, he was still upright, still on his knees. He looked dirty and scraped, as if he had been pushed into the gravel, but he was trying to get to his feet, and the gag over his mouth was loose.

"Oh, thank God!" Richard stammered, his voice full of both hope and terror. He looked back at Pil, and saw that he had a bullet wound in his shoulder, and Richard knew instantly what had happened. When she saw Pil lunge at Sutton, rather than shooting Keith (as the Wanderer had instructed her to do) Mattie had taken a shot at the big man. It had hit him in the shoulder, but neither Pil nor Richard had felt it.

Maybe it was the impact of that bullet that threw me into Sutton's head?

Carla Grayson was screaming now, pointing the gun at Pil, and repeatedly pulling the trigger. But no shots were being fired.

She's out of ammunition, Richard realized.

Mattie knew it as well, and even as Richard was trying to climb to his feet, he saw the detective fumbling at the extra bullets that were in the belt around her waist. She would have the gun reloaded in a matter of seconds, and then Pil would be dead.

And Keith would be next.

Mattie got two bullets into the gun, but the air was thick now with Sutton's screams. Pil was applying more and more pressure to the sides of his skull, and the man was clearly in excruciating agony. His arms were flailing and clawing at Pil, but they had no effect. Richard expected Mattie to bring the gun to the side of Pil's head and fire.

What happened next, Richard didn't understand.

"Dutch, no!" Billy screamed.

Richard had almost forgotten the boy was even there, but the shout caused his head to wrench around, and what he saw made no sense at all.

The ghost in the soldier had stepped free, rising like Lazarus as he abandoned the dying body. He was an old cowboy with a shimmering silver Bowie knife, and he was already rushing toward Carla Grayson. Billy was on his heels, screaming words that made no sense to Richard.