Chapter Twenty-One

Absolute Reckoning

J eb raised the shotgun, his face void of emotion, his entire being focused on killing her. There was no sneer, no twisted grin, just a grim, single-minded blaze in his eyes.

Joan bent over Max, shielding him with her body, knowing it wouldn’t stop what was coming, but it was all she had. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she braced for the blast.

A scream tore through the night, filled with agony so raw it clawed at her eardrums. It took a moment for Joan to realize it hadn’t come from her. Jeb’s voice, hoarse and guttural, pierced the truck’s interior. The sound of his pain reverberated deep within her, but to Joan, it was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.

She forced herself up, clutching the dashboard with trembling fingers, and looked out. The dogs she’d freed from the cages had pulled Jeb down. They tore at him, a frenzy of snarls, snapping teeth, and flashing fur. His shotgun fell to the ground, and he kicked wildly, trying to fight them off. His screams grew louder, the shrill pitch laced with panic and desperation.

It didn’t last long enough. Time blurred, and the world dimmed around her.

Max lay still beneath her, his body unmoving. Joan felt a faint smile creep onto her lips as she rested her weight on him. “We did it,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Max quivered. A small, slight movement. She didn’t know if it was exhaustion or the slow grip of death.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, her throat raw from smoke and effort.

Flashing red and blue lights broke through the haze, their piercing glow illuminating the truck’s cab. Joan squinted as the colors danced across the windshield, almost too bright to bear. A rifle cracked in the distance, then another. Shouts followed as men, likely sheriff’s deputies, approached.

She released a shallow breath, her body sagging. Blood soaked her side and pant leg, warm and sticky. She didn’t know if Max would survive his injuries, but she knew one thing for certain: Jeb Hogg was dead.

With every ounce of strength she had left, she pushed herself up halfway, slumping against the door. Her vision flickered, fading in and out. The passenger door creaked open, and Deputy Berger’s voice, thick with concern, cut through her fog.

“Joan?”

“Don’t let Max out,” she groaned, barely able to force the words out.

Berger shifted into the cab. “Move over, you big bear,” he muttered gently to Max, his tone betraying an unusual softness. He turned his head and shouted back to his team, “She’s in here!” His arm stretched across Max to clasp Joan’s hand.

The radio crackled and Berger spoke into it, “Get medical over here immediately.”

“How bad are you hurt?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

No time for stupid questions. Each word was a struggle as she rasped, “I… moved the lockbox to the root cellar. Everything Willow needs… it’s there.”

She wasn’t sure if she’d spoken aloud or if the words had only echoed in her mind. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, but she pushed herself to keep going. “Take care of Max until Willow comes home. Jeb had rabies. Quarantine Max, don’t let them put him down. ”

Her thoughts swirled, a tangled mess, her brain sifting through what Berger needed to know. “Carrie’s body is out there,” she whispered, struggling for air. She tried to point, but her arm was too heavy to lift. “Susan… dead in the house. Don’t… forget the rabies… the momma dog and her puppies… near Carrie.”

“Joan, you’re going to be okay,” Berger assured, but his voice wavered.

Stupid man. Her hand tightened on his with surprising force, and she locked eyes with him. “Promise me you’ll take care of Max and Willow, you old windbag.” Her voice cracked and faltered.

“You know I will. Stop talking like that. Just tell me; what are your injuries?”

Her vision blurred, the edges of her world turning black. His voice sounded farther and farther away. He hadn’t said it. He hadn’t promised. She clung to the last remnants of her strength.

“Promise,” she whispered, her tone fierce despite its weakness.

“Promise,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough.

Relief washed over her as her grip loosened. Her fingers trembled as she laid her palm on Max’s back. She felt the faint rise and fall of his chest.

Her lips brushed his ear as she bent close. Her voice was a soft, final murmur, carrying all the love and desperation she felt. “Live for me, Max. Take care of Willow.”