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suitcase of his?'' Cyrus asked in a controlled scream. "You want me to remind you?" |
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Kyna shook her head so hard that the tears flew like water from a lawn sprinkler. "Why are you doing this to me? I hate you!" |
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"Good! Use that hate to get yourself moving. If you don't, your head just might end up as a trophy over that asshole's fireplace." |
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She was blubbering too hard to reply. |
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"Come on, try!" Cyrus insisted. |
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She tried to catch her breath. "Go on . . . leave me." |
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"I can't do that, and I can't carry you. I don't think he's going to wait until my arm heals and I don't stand a chance against him this way." |
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"There's no way to sugarcoat itif you don't get up right this second, you're dead. And I don't think it's going to be very fast or pleasant either." |
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Cyrus grabbed the back of her jacket with his good hand and pulled her to her knees. |
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"Oh shit!" she moaned. "That hurts!" |
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Kyna made it up on one leg before collapsing. |
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"I know what we can do," she said. "Come on!" |
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She crawled through the doorway into the adobe house and scurried over to the darkest corner. Cyrus stood in the doorway and looked at her with eyes as warm as congealed blood. |
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"I'll hide here," she said. "You go back to the restaurant, get help and come back. If you hurry, you can get here before he finds me." |
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Cyrus let his eyes wander over the roomover the dust, the abandoned pieces of pottery, over the cold, soot-streaked fire pit. There were no skeletons or rotting clothing but the place stank of death. He didn't have to be a wolf to smell it. It was a city of the dead. |
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"That's it?" he hissed. "That's your master plan?" |
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