Kyle glances up at me and rolls, avoiding my first swing, but he can’t roll away fast enough. He’s on his back and holding his hands up as if to surrender, but in my peripheral vision, I can see blood all over Iris’s face and neck, and the rage inside me isn’t something I can control—or want to.
I bring the axe down.
Kyle screams.
I bring the axe down again.
In my head, I’m not standing in the snow, slowly freezing in the Canadian, subarctic winter wind. I’m standing in my childhood living room with blood spattering the walls and television set.
I swing the axe, connecting with the side of his head, and there is no more screaming.
My head is spinning. I’m breathing too fast, and though I know I’m starting to hyperventilate, I can’t stop myself. I can’t focus enough to see, but I feel warm trickles of blood on my hands and face. I remember the feeling well, and when I close my eyes for a second, I am again standing in my parents’ living room, straddling my father’s body.
Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth.
My hands are still shaking, but I can breathe a little easier. When I open my eyes, I look at the crimson mess that was once Kyle McGuire. I also see the small knife I had included in Seri’s Christmas survival kit sticking out of his abdo
men.
Breathless, I look away from his body and see Iris lying in the snow, covered in blood.
I can barely move my arms and legs, and I’m shivering so badly, I can hardly get a grip on Iris. The sun has set, and the wind is penetrating. I squeeze my eyes shut, ignoring the pain in my leg as I drag Iris by the shoulders toward the cabin door. I have to lift her up to get her over the stoop, and I nearly collapse in the doorway. With one final burst of energy, I drag us both inside the cabin. I kick the door shut with my left leg and then collapse next to her.
I turn my head until I can see her face. I reach over to try to figure out where the wound is, but my head swims, and everything goes black.
Chapter 31
I’m out for only a few seconds, and I’m still panting when I open my eyes. Now that I’m slightly warmer, my leg is throbbing, but my pain is not my concern right now. I roll to one side and reach for Iris’s arm. It’s cold, and I realize she’s motionless.
“Fuck! No!” I push myself to my knees, ignoring the pain in my leg, and cup her face with my hands. “Iris? Iris, can you hear me? Seri? Netti?”
Nothing.
I rip the neck of her shirt so I can get a better look at the wound. Despite the blood, it’s not as bad as I feared. The wound is jagged from the serrated edge of the knife, but it’s not deep. The knife entered her shoulder and slid up, cutting her seriously but not entering her chest. Though she’s not bleeding badly, I press the heel of my hand against the wound and call out to her again.
“Iris!”
She moans and slowly opens her eyes.
“Iris!” I let out a long breath of relief. “It’s okay. I’m here. Everything is going to be okay.”
“Bishop?”
“I’m right here, baby.” I run my free hand over her face. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
Iris winces as she tries to move, then collapses back to the floor.
“I knew he’d do it,” she says. “Fucking asshole. I knew he would kill me.”
“You’re not dead.” I shake my head and check her wound again. “You’re going to need a few stitches, but nothing vital has been pierced.”
Iris looks at me with tired, dull eyes.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” she asks.
“Yeah, he is.”
“Good. I can die a little easier knowing Seri is safe”