Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
I pause at the edge of the woods, the back door of the cabin in my line of sight. I turn back to look at the other two men behind me. Zeus's jaw is clenched, his eyes drilling a hole into me as if he expects me to speak up and try to talk some sense into Bobby.
Our newest friend is all but twitching, his eyes darting around as if he's afraid he's going to miss some spectacular event. It's akin to someone watching a large fireworks display for the first time. The man is ecstatic with anticipation of what we're about to do.
"Wasting fucking time," Bobby says, his trigger finger tapping the side of his weapon.
I mean, I guess I should be grateful for small favors that the man is aware enough not to have the damn thing on the trigger, considering he's been at my back for the last ten minutes.
"Ready?" I ask, the question directed more at Zeus than at Bobby.
He dips his head, a look of acceptance on his face.
I move slowly, taking everything in as we break from the trees and head toward the back door. The scent of smoke fills the air, a blend of something that was cooked on the small grill off to the side of the tiny back porch and a wood-burning stove.
"Let me," Bobby says as he steps around me. Before he can lift his leg to kick in the door, I turn the doorknob, hoping on the off chance that the hunter forgot to lock it before going to bed.
When the knob turns, the door opens silently. I glance at Bobby, giving him a look that I hope he reads as meaning that he needs to use his fucking head more. The guy shrugs, a wide smile spreading on his face.
"Kicking it in is more dramatic," he mutters.
I feel ready for battle as we enter the cabin, more so ready to fight Bobby than whoever might be inside. I damn near have tunnel vision as I sweep my attention across the room.
There's nothing cozy about the cabin. It's functional at best—a set of bunk beds on the far wall, a small kitchenette to the left. There are a couple of packed overnight bags on the small dining table, telling me they either got in late last night or are at the end of their trip and planning to head back home soon.
"Rise and shine motherfuckers!" Bobby yells as he makes his way across the room, his rifle moving between the two occupied bunk beds.
"Lights," Zeus says, a warning to everyone in the room before flipping the switch on the wall.
The room is cast in an amber glow, the bulb not putting off much light at all, a blessing to not be suddenly blinded.
"What the hell?" one of the guys mutters as he sits up in the top bunk bed, his hands going up by his ears when he sees the gun aimed at his face. He can't be more than fifteen or sixteen, and the look of pure terror on his face makes me feel like the biggest piece of shit that has ever walked the earth.
"Be cool," the man in the lower bunk says to the younger one. "They're not going to hurt us, right, boys?"
The older man, more than likely the dad of the kid above him, glances at each of us as if demanding that we assure the kid that he's safe.
"Stay cool, and you'll be fine," I assure both of them. "We want your money, guns, phones, anything of value."
The older guy points toward the far wall near the front door. "All packed up and ready to go."
Bobby shifts on his feet as if he's not very impressed with their cooperation. It's clear the man had high hopes of hurting someone tonight.
Zeus moves toward the bags after a quick glance in my direction to make sure that I'm keeping an eye on our new friend.
He shoulders the straps of the two rifle bags, wincing slightly when the kid in the top bunk starts crying. I can only guess that he worked really hard to earn the money to buy his own hunting rifle.
"What a pussy," Bobby growls, smiling again when the kid cries harder when the rifle is pointed in his direction. "Want me to give you something to cry about?"
"Easy," the dad says. "We're no threat to you."
"Damn right, you're not," Bobby growls, turning his attention and the barrel of his gun in the dad's direction.
The man in the lower bunk looks relieved to have the threat aimed in his direction rather than at his son, but that doesn't stop him from trembling at the possibility of harm or even death.
"We're good," I say once Zeus opens the front door and steps outside. "Let's bounce."