laughed, the unmistakable sound of lust in their voices.
“You know that Ricky will take her first,” said the second man. “He’ll probably hurt her a bit, too.”
“Long as she’s still kicking, I’ll get mine.”
Both men laughed again.
Mason leaned around the doorframe just far enough to peer into the cabin. Dreadlocks was standing with his back toward Mason. The other man was facing him, but his view was mostly blocked by his partner. Both were carrying handguns and flashlights. The man further away was wearing either a down vest or some form of body armor.
With just his hand and part of his face exposed, Mason raised the Supergrade and shot Dreadlocks in the hamstring. As Dreadlocks fell, the second man raised his pistol and blindly fired two rounds in Mason’s direction. One bullet splintered the top of the doorframe, and the other passed through the open doorway. Mason shot him twice in the groin and once through the left eye. He fell back against a small table, draping over it like a dirty rug.
Dreadlocks screamed in agony, clutching his leg and rolling around on the floor. He still had his pistol in one hand, but his flashlight had fallen away.
“Throw the gun away,” Mason ordered, taking aim at him.
Dreadlocks rolled to his side to see who had shot him. He started to raise his pistol but decided against it.
“Okay, okay. I’m throwing it,” he moaned. He tossed the gun several feet away. “Don’t shoot me again.”
Keeping his pistol aimed at Dreadlocks, Mason stepped into the cabin. A shape suddenly rushed past him from outside. The giant creature descended on the prone man, tearing into him with horrible ferocity. Mason instinctively jumped back and raised his weapon. Only then did he see that it was Bowie.
He moved to grab the dog, but stopped when he realized there was no point. Dreadlocks was already dead, his throat torn out with one powerful rip from Bowie’s massive jaws. Mason stood back, watching as the huge dog shook the man from side to side like he might a child’s doll. When Bowie was satisfied that the man was dead, he dropped the lifeless body to the floor. He turned back to look at Mason, the fur around his mouth wet with blood.
Mason gestured for Bowie to come to him, and the dog immediately obeyed. He bent over and patted Bowie on his side.
“That’s a good boy.” There could be no mixed messages. When it was time to fight, it was time to fight. “All I want to know is how you fit through that window.”
Bowie looked up at him and licked the blood off his lips.
Mason rolled the last body off the bed of his truck, watching as it tumbled down the steep mountain pass like an out-of-control skier. It settled several hundred feet below, not too far from the bodies of the other two men he had killed on the roadway. He rolled up the plastic sheeting that lined the bed into a tight bundle and secured it with a length of black paracord. He suspected that it might come in handy again one day.
He sat down on the edge of his tailgate, and Bowie immediately flopped down beside him, taking up nearly half of the truck bed. With all three men dead, Mason had no way of knowing how they had found his cabin, where they were from, or whether they were part of a larger group. His best guess was that they had come from Boone, since it was the closest town, but it was nothing more than a guess. What was clear was that they were bad guys out doing bad things, and that was enough for him.
He reached down and scratched the dog’s thick neck.
“We got lucky this time.”
Bowie’s hind leg bounced up and down with excitement from each scratch.
“From here on out, we’re going to need to be more careful. Let’s start by making the cabin a bit less accessible. We can drag a few dead trees across the driveway and make the turnoff a bit harder to see by obscuring it with brush. Also, I’ll start parking the truck around back. That will help some, but the truth is we need to think
“You know that Ricky will take her first,” said the second man. “He’ll probably hurt her a bit, too.”
“Long as she’s still kicking, I’ll get mine.”
Both men laughed again.
Mason leaned around the doorframe just far enough to peer into the cabin. Dreadlocks was standing with his back toward Mason. The other man was facing him, but his view was mostly blocked by his partner. Both were carrying handguns and flashlights. The man further away was wearing either a down vest or some form of body armor.
With just his hand and part of his face exposed, Mason raised the Supergrade and shot Dreadlocks in the hamstring. As Dreadlocks fell, the second man raised his pistol and blindly fired two rounds in Mason’s direction. One bullet splintered the top of the doorframe, and the other passed through the open doorway. Mason shot him twice in the groin and once through the left eye. He fell back against a small table, draping over it like a dirty rug.
Dreadlocks screamed in agony, clutching his leg and rolling around on the floor. He still had his pistol in one hand, but his flashlight had fallen away.
“Throw the gun away,” Mason ordered, taking aim at him.
Dreadlocks rolled to his side to see who had shot him. He started to raise his pistol but decided against it.
“Okay, okay. I’m throwing it,” he moaned. He tossed the gun several feet away. “Don’t shoot me again.”
Keeping his pistol aimed at Dreadlocks, Mason stepped into the cabin. A shape suddenly rushed past him from outside. The giant creature descended on the prone man, tearing into him with horrible ferocity. Mason instinctively jumped back and raised his weapon. Only then did he see that it was Bowie.
He moved to grab the dog, but stopped when he realized there was no point. Dreadlocks was already dead, his throat torn out with one powerful rip from Bowie’s massive jaws. Mason stood back, watching as the huge dog shook the man from side to side like he might a child’s doll. When Bowie was satisfied that the man was dead, he dropped the lifeless body to the floor. He turned back to look at Mason, the fur around his mouth wet with blood.
Mason gestured for Bowie to come to him, and the dog immediately obeyed. He bent over and patted Bowie on his side.
“That’s a good boy.” There could be no mixed messages. When it was time to fight, it was time to fight. “All I want to know is how you fit through that window.”
Bowie looked up at him and licked the blood off his lips.
Mason rolled the last body off the bed of his truck, watching as it tumbled down the steep mountain pass like an out-of-control skier. It settled several hundred feet below, not too far from the bodies of the other two men he had killed on the roadway. He rolled up the plastic sheeting that lined the bed into a tight bundle and secured it with a length of black paracord. He suspected that it might come in handy again one day.
He sat down on the edge of his tailgate, and Bowie immediately flopped down beside him, taking up nearly half of the truck bed. With all three men dead, Mason had no way of knowing how they had found his cabin, where they were from, or whether they were part of a larger group. His best guess was that they had come from Boone, since it was the closest town, but it was nothing more than a guess. What was clear was that they were bad guys out doing bad things, and that was enough for him.
He reached down and scratched the dog’s thick neck.
“We got lucky this time.”
Bowie’s hind leg bounced up and down with excitement from each scratch.
“From here on out, we’re going to need to be more careful. Let’s start by making the cabin a bit less accessible. We can drag a few dead trees across the driveway and make the turnoff a bit harder to see by obscuring it with brush. Also, I’ll start parking the truck around back. That will help some, but the truth is we need to think
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