When Lightning Strikes

Behind them, faint but unmistakable, was the distant thunder of a single horse. That sound was Lainie's lifeline, the only thing keeping her going. With every sound, every footfall in the night, she was able to

let herself believe that this nightmare would end.

Joe. Joe. Joe. The single word became a prayer that matched her heartbeat, punctuated her every breath. He was back there, alone but undaunted, following her and Killian into this boundless darkness.

Soon?please God, soon?he would catch up and rescue her, and this devastating nightmare would end.

Suddenly a gunshot rang out.,

Joe.

Lainie felt a wave of hope. She forced herself to unfurl, to straighten in the saddle. She blinked, trying to see something in the black tomb that had become her world.

She twisted in the saddle and peered behind her. There was nothing; the void behind them was impenetrable, empty save for the thundering beat of hooves.

From somewhere came another gunshot.

She realized that the sound had come from above them, not behind. Disappointment brought a sharp, stabbing pain to her stomach. Dully she turned back around and glanced up.

The gun fired again, a blink of yellow-bright light amidst the darkness. It came from high above them, on what had to be a mesa shrouded by nightfall.

An answering shot bit through the night behind them. There was a moment's hesitation, then gunfire

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exploded from the invisible ledge above. A dozen shots rang out simultaneously. Sunburst explosions lit the ridge.

"Whoa, boy." Killian brought his horse to a halt and dismounted.

Silence fell into the valley again. And this time it was quieter, more oppressive.

It took Lainie a moment to realize what had happened. There was no longer a distant thunder of hooves gobbling up the ground behind them.

Joe had stopped.

She wanted to scream but didn't have the energy.

Killian materialized beside her. "Martin won't follow past here," he said softly. "He knows it would be suicide."

Lainie glanced up, trying to see the men who stood there. "Those are your men." Her voice felt as if it came from another person.

"Guards." He straightened. "We've got a few more hours and we'll be in camp. Then, lady, it's you and me . .. without your precious Joe to worry about."

Lainie squeezed her eyes shut and slumped again, feeling beaten and tired and lonely. The dream was veering away from her plot, taking her somewhere she couldn't begin to understand. Joe was supposed to have rescued her by now, and Killian was supposed to be dead.

Joe, only Joe, had kept her going these last few hours. Knowing that he was behind her, doggedly trailing her every move, had given her strength. Without it, without him, she felt more alone than she would have thought possible for a dream.

Killian's footsteps crunched through the darkness for a moment, then stopped. Leather creaked tiredly as he

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swung into the saddle. He made a soft clucking sound and urged his mount forward.

She let out her breath in a trembling, exhausted sigh. Her hard-won courage slipped a notch; she fought to reel it back in, wind it around her.

She needed to wake up, needed to wake up now. But she had no idea how to do it. No idea at all how to end this dream. Frustration clawed at her, made her want to scream and cry and pound her fists.

Opening her tired, gritty eyes, she stared into the nothingness of the night and kept going.