The Plantation - By Chris Kuzneski Page 0,117

at the flaming wreckage, making sure that no one was on fire. “Hello? Can anybody hear me?”

There was no response.

Jones limped to the second ATV, the one that he’d been driving, and pushed it over onto its wheels. Although it was dented and scratched, Jones didn’t notice any major damage. There were no obvious leaks or stray parts lying on the ground, and despite the collision the wheels seemed to be intact.

“Takes a licking and keeps on—”

A deep growl broke Jones’s concentration. He immediately stared in the direction of the noise and searched for the source.

“Hello?” he shouted, but this time with a little more apprehension.

Once again, there was no response.

As he studied the darkness, Jones placed his hand on his belt and felt for the cold touch of his gun. He was thankful when his fingers curled around the rough texture of the handle. It gave him a burst of confidence.

“Who’s out there?” he demanded.

Another growl. Softer, angrier.

Jones took a few steps forward, holding his gun directly in front of him. He was in no mood for games and planned on punishing the first person he came across. “If you’re out there, I recommend you answer me. Otherwise, I have a bullet with your name on it.”

He took another step, moving closer to the source of the sound. The light of the fire helped show him the way. In fact, he relied on it.

“I’m telling you!” he warned. “You’re really pissing me—”

But Jones wasn’t able to finish his statement. In fact, he nearly choked on the words as he tried to say them.

Bennie Blount was sprawled on the ground, twisted and contorted in a puddle of his own blood. Hovering above him, like a monster from another world, was Tornado, its face and claws dripping with the liquid that surged from the open wounds it had created.

When the animal saw Jones, it lifted its head and growled in an effort to protect its dinner, and when it did, chunks of flesh dropped from its mouth and fell onto the red dirt below.

The bloody display made Jones nauseous, yet it only added to his determination.

He instantly raised his Glock and pointed it at the snarling beast.

Bang! The first shot entered the animal midshank, knocking it away from Blount amidst a series of yelps. But Jones refused to stop. He wouldn’t be content until this creature had died.

Bang! The next bullet ripped through Tornado’s hip, sending a spurt of blood into the air and onto the ground where the dog collapsed with a loud thud.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Tornado danced spasmodically as Jones pummeled its body with shot after well-aimed shot, making sure that this beast would never breathe again.

Jones sneered. “Tell Cujo I said hello.”

CHAPTER 56

WHEN Payne opened his eyes, he was unable to see anything except two blazing orbs of light, one shining on either side of him. He tried leaning forward, using his good arm to lift him from the ground, but the front bumper of the truck restricted his movement.

“Wow!” he gasped, noticing that most of his body was underneath the frame of the vehicle. “Thank God for tall wheels.”

Using the grille for support, Payne scrambled backward, freeing himself from the undercarriage as quickly as possible. He realized he didn’t have time to plan anything elaborate—Holmes would be looking to strike hastily—so Payne decided to follow his gut. And it told him to attack.

With quiet confidence, Payne lowered his right hand to his hip and grabbed his Glock. As his finger curled around the trigger, Payne glanced under the motionless vehicle, looking for Holmes’s feet. If he had seen them, he would’ve blasted them immediately, but Payne’s search turned up empty.

That meant that Holmes was either inside the truck or on it.

Since the front windshield was missing, Payne knew he’d have an unobstructed shot if Holmes was in the front seat. He realized, though, that the windowless space would be far more beneficial to his opponent. The gap would give Holmes more room to maneuver inside the cab and an extra way to escape. But Payne wasn’t about to let that happen.

No, the only way that Holmes was going to get away was through Payne, not through a window. Unfortunately, that was what Holmes had in mind.

While recovering from the sneak attack, Holmes noticed Payne’s silhouette on the ground ahead, created by the headlights. The shadow gave Holmes all the information he was looking for: Payne was still alive and directly in front of the truck.

Without delay, Holmes

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