"I'm ready," she whispered, hoping he didn't hear the nervous quiver in her voice.
Micah nodded. Grabbing the transmitter from the dresser drawer, he shoved it under his sweatshirt; then, as quietly as possible, he opened the bedroom window, helped Lainey climb over the still, and followed her outside.
Turning, he closed the window, then grabbed Lainey's hand and ran toward the tree-studded hill that rose behind the cabin.
They had just reached the tree line when a man shouted, "Over here!"
"Tjete!''Micah swore under his breath as he recognized Mac's voice. "Run, Lainey!" he said, pushing her in front of him.
Without stopping to look back, Micah ran after her, scrambling up the side of the hill.
"Cut 'em off, Gene!" Mac hollered. "I've got you covered!"
There was the sound of footsteps crashing through dry underbrush, and then a dark shape rose up out of the blackness of the night.
"Stop!" Gene commanded. "I don't want to shoot."
Fearful for Lainey's life, Micah grabbed her by the arm and pushed her behind him.
There was the roar of a gunshot, a slash of white-hot pain as the bullet buried itself in the muscle of Micah's left arm.
Pain and anger warred within him, kindling the primal instinct to survive, to protect one's mate. Without conscious thought, Micah focused his gaze on the man called Gene, felt the energy swell and coalesce from deep within him.
The man screamed, a terrible high-pitched shriek of agony. Slowly, as if all his bones were dissolving, he toppled forward and rolled down the hill.
Micah whirled around, reaching for Lainey, when a second shot reverberated through the night.
Time seemed to have slowed, crystalizing every sound, every movement. He stared at Lainey in disbelief as she stumbled backward, her hand flying to her chest before she crumpled to the ground. Even in the darkness, he could see the dark crimson stain soaking her sweater.
With a feral cry, he turned on Mac, who was creeping up behind him. For a moment that seemed to stretch as long as infinity, they stared at each other.
A vile oath enipted from Mac's lips as he raised the gun, his finger curling around the trigger.
Rage unlike anything he had ever known suffused Micah. He felt the power boiling up inside him, burning out of control.
Time seemed to stop as Mac fired the gun.
Micah felt the searing heat of the bullet, a sharp stab of pain as the slug buried itself high in his right shoulder.
The sound of the gunshot echoed and re-echoed in the stillness of the night. A plume of blue-gray smoke eddied from the barrel of the revolver, slowly rising toward the sky.
Fury as cold as the outer reaches of space rose up within Micah, overshadowing everything else. He felt the deadly power flow out of him, hotter than the fuel that propelled his ship, more devastating than the firestorms of Orizzon.
A long, agonized cry of pain and fear blotted out all other sound as Mac's skin blistered and turned black until nothing remained but a pile of charred ashes.
Shock had rendered Micah's wounds momentarily numb. Knowing it wouldn't last, he shoved the transmitter into his pants pocket, then yanked off his sweatshirt. He tore off one of the sleeves, made a thick pad, and placed it over the gaping wound in Lainey's chest.
Tearing the rest of his sweatshirt into strips, he wrapped them tightly around her chest to hold the makeshift bandage in place, and then he gathered Lainey into his arms and carried her up the mountain.
As the shock wore off, so did the numbness in his arm and shoulder. Each step jarred the bleeding wounds, sending shafts of bright white pain lancing through him, and still he kept going, doggedly putting one foot in front of the other.
He was covered with perspiration when, at long last, he reached the top of the mountain.
Gently, he placed Lainey on the ground. He gazed at her for a moment, and then he pulled the transmitter from his pocket and activated the distress signal.
With luck, Pergith would still be in the area.
Sitting down, Micah drew Lainey into his arms and held her close, trying to warm her with the heat of his own body. He'd always been lucky, he thought as he rocked her gently back and forth. Always. He'd come through numerous disasters unscathed, had singlehandedly battled his way off a cannibalistic planet, had rescued three children from a burning building on Quinton Rells, had survived the crash of his ship.