Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

CHAPTER

6

“IT’S SURE NICE to see a vehicle that’s still moving.” The man extended his hand to Stella. “Name’s Alvin Rutland, but you can call me Al. Good to meet you girls.”

Stella ignored the offered hand, keeping both of hers on the wheel, and nodded instead. “I’m Stella Carver and I haven’t been a girl for several decades.” She smiled to soften the bite of her words. “Nice to meet you. We just wanted to stop and let you know that—”

“Well, good.” He sniffed and blotted his nose. “You got Sadie and the kid and the hurt folks. Good.” Alan nodded his head and lifted the hand he’d offered to Stella to wave at the bed of the truck. He raised his voice so it would carry over the idling engine to Sadie. “See, told you that everything would be fine!” Without waiting for Sadie to respond, he returned his attention to Stella, though his gaze kept skipping appraisingly from her to the rest of the women in the cab. “Now then, ladies”—he enunciated the word carefully and grinned—“I’ve got five folks with me, and I make six. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we can unload some of that junk from the bed and climb in.” He spoke with confidence, as if no one ever challenged his words, then half turned away from them and started to motion for the others to join him.

“No.” Stella spoke clearly, her voice loud enough so that the group behind him could hear her. “Everything in the bed is precious. Like I was explaining before you interrupted, we just stopped long enough to let you know we’ll send help back for you as soon as we get to shelter.”

When Rutland faced the truck again, the amiable smile had slid from his handsome face. “You can’t mean to leave us out here.”

Mercury leaned forward. “Isn’t that exactly what you just did to them?” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

Al’s piercing blue eyes narrowed, and he forgot to wipe at the blood that dripped sluggishly from his nose. “That was different. Irregardless, we aren’t staying out here when we can get in the back of that truck and ride to safety.”

“Irregardless isn’t a word,” Stella said. “Believe me. I’m a teacher. I know words and how to use them. I tell you that so you understand when I say no, I mean no.”

“And, FYI”—Jenny spoke up with a little wave—“most women do mean no when they say it.”

“Ladies, be reasonable.” Alvin’s voice was steeped in charm. “It’s unproductive to argue semantics. Plus, I totally get it—I’m a feminist. I love women and I’m all for equal whatever. But we’re in the middle of some gnarly shit here—pardon my language. I don’t usually curse around ladies.”

“No need to apologize,” Stella said. “Gnarly shit has happened, which is why we’re going to get the wounded people to shelter ASAP. Like I said, we’ll send back someone to get y’all.”

Al’s charming expression hardened to anger. “We’re getting in the truck. All you need to do is drive us about five miles up the highway to Government Camp.” As he spoke, he motioned again for the group of people to join him. Quickly, the two other men swarmed the truck with Rutland while the three women moved more slowly, holding back to watch what would happen.

“Hey, Al, there’s no room for—” Sadie began as the truck dipped to the side with the weight of the men.

“Stop it! You’ll hurt them!” Gemma scooted from her mother’s side to put herself between the wounded people and the men climbing on the truck.

“Get back!” Nathan shouted. He clutched his chest and tried to sit up, but instead fell back, gasping with pain.

Mercury didn’t hesitate. She popped open the glove box, pulled the .38 from its holder, and snapped off the safety. “Roll that fucking window all the way down,” she told Stella, who quickly complied. Then Mercury twisted her body and leaned across her best friend so that her arm and part of her torso were out of the window. She pointed the revolver at Alvin and cocked the trigger.

Halfway over the side of the truck, Al froze. His head snapped up and he stared into the barrel of Mercury’s gun.

“Whoa! There’s no need for that.”

“Sure there is. Get off our truck. Now.” Mercury was shocked at how calm she felt and how absolutely clear everything around her seemed—like the world had turned to crystal.

Al slid slowly down the truck to stand on the asphalt. He lifted one hand, as if in surrender, but he kept the other clamped on the side of the bed.

Mercury continued to aim the gun steadily at Rutland. “Tell your friends to get off too.”

“Boys, you heard her.” Al’s voice sounded like he was speaking through gravel.

“No problem, boss man,” said one of the men as he and the other guy got off the side of the truck.

Al turned his most charming smile on Mercury. “See? Everything’s fine and dandy. Let’s talk this out.”

“We’re done talking,” said Mercury. “Move away from our truck.”

Instead of moving back, Al’s grip on the truck tightened, and his smile turned mocking. “Calm down. No need to get so emotional. You know you’re not going to shoot me, so let’s come to an agreement. How about—”

“How about this, Al. You don’t know me, so let me clue you in real fast.” Her Okie twang rang around them. “I’m from Oklahoma. I will shoot you. I won’t kill you, but I’ll blow out your knee.” She lowered the barrel of the gun so that it was pointed at his left kneecap. “You might want to know that my dad taught me to shoot so that I could hunt with him, which I’ve been doin’ since I was a kid. I can kill a pheasant in flight. I can kill a rabbit running for its burrow. I’ve even shot a squirrel scrambling up a great big ol’ oak. So, I can damn sure hit your knee from a few feet away. Now, you and your boys need to back the fuck away from our truck, or I will happily give you tangible proof that I am indeed an excellent shot.”

Rutland’s handsome face flushed red so that it matched the color of the blood trickling from his nose. His hand slid from the side of the truck, and he took several slow steps back. The men with him followed suit.