They'd barely reached the first hill. It would take them another five minutes, at least, to discover the abandoned flashlight.
It wasn't much time, but it would have to do.
I flew across the campfire and straight at the man guarding Evin. He looked up as I approached, and I saw the awareness flash across his face. He wasn't as drunk as the others, and he'd recognized that I was a shifter. Whether he knew it was me or not didn't matter. As he opened his mouth to shout for the others, I shifted shape and plunged down on top of him.
He had enough sense to dive out of the way, so that my feet hit his back rather than his face, driving him earthward but not knocking him out like I'd hoped. I landed then twisted, lashing out with a heel. He blocked the blow with his arm, the force of it reverberating up my leg, then followed it up with a jab to my face. I dipped a little so that the blow passed over my right shoulder, then punched upward, aiming for his jaw. But again, he saw it coming and swayed backward so that the blow hit air rather than flesh and left me momentarily unbalanced. His fist hit my upper stomach, the force of it pushing me backward as air exploded from my lungs.
He laughed, then raised his voice, half looking away as he said, "Hey, she's over here!"
It was a stupid thing to do.
I kicked his knee as hard as I could. The impact made his leg bow unnaturally and bone shattered, the sound like a gunshot in the darkness. As he howled and started to go down, I clenched my fist and delivered an uppercut to his chin. He dropped to the ground and didn't move.
For a minute, neither did I. Breathing hurt. I took shallower breaths but it didn't seem to help. Nor did I have the time to worry about it.
Denny and his friends had been warned, and their shouts filled the night. I needed to grab Evin and make my escape.
I turned and ran for the front of the rusty tank. Evin was still lying where I'd seen him. His hands were tied behind his back, and the rope holding him was thick and strong. The metallic smell of blood rode the air, even though he didn't look like he'd been beaten. One look at the ropes binding him explained why - his wrists were raw and bloody. He'd obviously been trying to work himself free.
I dropped down beside him and touched his face. He jumped and his eyes flew open.
"Jesus, what the hell are you doing here?"
"Rescuing your butt," I said. "Are you injured?"
"They've wrapped silver wire around my neck. It's burning."
Which explained why he hadn't shifted shape to escape the ropes. Still, if his injured wrists and silver burns were the worst of his injuries, then he was damn lucky.
I grabbed the other knife from my boot and sawed the ropes off his bloody wrists, but it took forever, and all the time my awareness of the men was growing. I couldn't risk slicing the ropes off his feet. I should have done them first.
"I haven't got time to undo your feet. We need to get out of here." I stood up, grabbed his raw and bleeding hands, and hauled him upright. "Can you hop?"
"I'd fucking attempt to fly if it was the difference between getting the hell out and staying here." His voice was grim, determined.
"Then let's get the hell out of here."
He leapfrogged forward. I kept one hand on his arm to steady him, but the going seemed painfully slow. My awareness of the other men continued to sharpen; they were closing in on us far too fast. If we didn't get to the third truck soon, they'd be on us.
"We're moving too slow," I said.
"I'm jumping as fast as I fucking can," he practically spat.
"It's still not fast enough. Stop."
He did. I twisted, grabbed his wrist, shoved his arm around my neck, then bent, dragging him over my shoulders and holding his thigh to keep him steady.
"Fuck" was all he said as I ran forward.
We made it to the car. I flung open the passenger door, dropped him onto the seat, shoved his legs inside then shut the door and ran around to the driver's side.
Denny and his men were almost on us. I grabbed the keys out of my pocket, slammed the door closed, hit the lock button with my elbow, then leaned across and locked Evin's door.
And jumped about a mile high as a rock hit the windshield and the glass became a spidery network of cracks.
But I could see the men through them. Could see their vicious expressions. If they got their hands on us now, it wasn't going to be pleasant.
Not that it was actually going to be pleasant before.