Chosen To Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

Regan was halfway across the lake. Her lungs were on fire, her thighs and calves screaming in pain, her useless arm aching with each jarring step. Hicks was only a few feet behind.

She hoped, prayed, for the ice to give way under his weight, but so far it held firm.

CHOSEN TO DIE

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“Pescoli! It’s over,” he yelled, but he was breathing hard, struggling, too. She kept moving.

“I mean it.” In his hand was his knife, and he was close enough to her that he could throw it at her. She kept running, zigzagging, keeping him off guard. Beneath the snow the ice was slick, her feet slipping as the sun shone bright, only a few clouds remaining, the air so crisp it was brittle. It was as if they were the only two creatures in the universe: a wounded, failing woman and a gasping, looming man who was closing the gap between them. The shoreline surrounding the lake was far away, snow-laden trees glistening in the wintry sunlight.

“It’s your time, Pescoli.”

“Like hell.” God, he was close. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her eyes burned with the cold.

“I said, ‘It’s your time,’ now!” He lunged. Thrusting his body through the air, his knife raised, he threw himself at her.

She flinched, shifted quickly to one side. Sliding. Sliding . . .

Crash! He hit her hard, but she was still on her feet. “Shit!”

She kept running.

Sliding.

Putting icy distance between them.

She glanced around. Couldn’t help herself. Angry as a wounded bull, he’d pulled himself to his feet. “There’s nowhere to run. You may as well give up!”

He was heading in her direction again, his face red, his eyes filled with a burning hatred. But she’d bought a little time.

440

Lisa Jackson

Try to get him to fall again. And this time, jump on him. Use the damned screwdriver! He was growing closer again. She heard his tortured breathing.

“Why? Why are you doing this, Billy?” she yelled, trying to catch him off guard, make his mind shift from its deadly purpose.

He was so near he could almost touch her. Oh, no, no, no!

“Because it’s what I do.”

He propelled himself forward again, and this time, as she tried to duck away, she slipped, her feet shivering across the ice.

In a second she felt a big hand circle her ankle. Oh, no!

“I told you,” he said, sounding smug. “It’s your time.” But there was another noise as well—the deep, sharp sound of ice cracking and splitting.

“What the hell?” There, where his fingers clenched above her foot, nearly crushing her bones, was the first splintering web of deep cracks. He glared up at her, his face flushed with anger. “You stupid, stupid cunt.”

“You’re goin’ down, Billy,” she said, and kicked him hard, aiming for his head with her free foot. Craaaaaaack!

The ice emitted a heart-stopping sound. Beneath her, Regan felt the mass shift. Groan. His fingers tightened over her ankle, twisting, and she cried out as tendons popped.

It was over, she knew, but if she was going to die, she was damned well taking this monster with her.

*