while.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Such a cool feeling. If I didn’t like something, I just cut it off. Bam! Gone.”
Gravel is nothing if not impatient. He walks over to Hobbs who sits on the outside of the circle of hostages, slits the wire around his hands, and says, “Find something good on this fuckin’ radio!”
“Hard in a storm like this.” Hobbs gets up and walks over to the bookshelf. He puts his ear close and slowly starts to move the dial.
Kent continues, “The Nielson thing was kind of like being on a jury. You sit there and then if you don’t like the guy, bam, he’s history.”
“You’ve never been a juror,” Gravel says.
“They don’t take you if you’ve gone down for a felony. You’d think they’d be wetting their pants for a guy like me with experience. Some asshole’s up for murder one. Hey, I’m your guy. I’d know it in an instant.”
Over in the corner, quietly, Dan whispers, “We have to do something.”
Bruce responds, “Lay low and stay alive.”
“Wait for help,” Hank adds.
“Help from where?” Mike asks.
“Alison’s out there,” Bella reminds them.
“Oh, great, we’re relying on mountain woman in the high heels?”
Hank lunges for him forgetting he’s tied. The wire secures him and he’s pulled back down.
The commotion gets Ben’s attention, “Now kids, let’s not fight over there. We don’t want to gag you.”
Hobbs has finally landed on a relatively clear station on the radio. He fine-tunes it. It’s a country station. Satisfied, he turns it up. Country music floods into the room. Gravel grabs his gun and fires repeatedly riddling Hobbs with bullets! Julie, Grant, Jimmy scream. Bella begins to cry. Hobbs, his eyes wide open in astonishment, collapses bloody to the floorboards. Jimmy buries his head in Hank’s lap. Even with his hands tied, Hank manages to cover Jimmy protectively with his body. And then silence. The kind of silence that accompanies sudden tragic shock. Brains pause. A deafening clap of thunder fills the soundless void.
Then a calm, inquiring voice, “Uh, bro?” Ben asks.
Gravel recognizes the criticism in Ben’s expression. He shrugs “I hate country music.”
* * *
Chapter Twelve
Alison steps back from her view into the lodge. Her soaked face registers the inescapable horror of what just happened. Helplessness, like weights, send her to her knees on the forest floor. Why? Tears fill her eyes. She would rather give herself up and join Hank and Jimmy; she would rather share whatever their fate is than watch it from the outside. Seeing them collapsed together on the floor, she can hear the words of comfort that Hank is most certainly whispering into their son’s ear right now. She wants to hear those words, too. She wants the sound of Hank’s voice in her head. She needs it. She buries her face in her hands overcome and sobbing. Why? She rocks back and forth on the ground surrendering to the primitive drive to rock when in deep pain. And then, she does hear a voice. It is Hobbs’ voice. It says “shortwave.” Her head snaps up. Shortwave. She stumbles to standing with her body already moving and her feet catching up she runs toward Hobbs’ cabin. She slips here and there in the mud but keeps her footing much better with experience. She has already learned which rocks to jump, which ones are deceptively slippery, and which ones to rely on. She is thankful all of the outside lights are on for all six cabins casting beams of wet light around the camp. She bursts through Hobbs’ cabin door. This is a cabin well lived in. It’s more of a home. She sees the shortwave on the end table. She races over. She looks at the unfamiliar contraption. She studies the dials. She cautions herself to calm down and let her brain work. She can work a cell phone, GPS, camcorder. She tells herself this is just another device. Relax. Figure it out. Relax.
She switches it on. Instantly static. Good. Okay. With trial and error, she locates the volume switch and turns it up. She flips through the dials slowly. When the static seems to lessen, she pushes the talk button. “Hello?’ She waits. Static. Again and again, she tries. “Hello! Can anyone hear me? Hello? I need help!” She turns the dial, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, and continuing to speak, repeating the same message over and over… She hears Hobbs’ voice again, “only get static in storm like this.” She swallows the scream that is rising