Ultimate Supernatural Horror Box Set

Chapter 43

The CR-V barreled through the overgrowth while Grant cradled his sister’s head in his lap. His father could still handle a car, hooking it around potholes and dead logs while the meager headlights illuminated a solid wall of fog that was always just ahead of them.

Jim called back, “How far’s Leavenworth?”

“Forty-five minutes,” Grant said, dropping Paige’s phone on the seat.

“We’ll make it in half the time. And they have a hospital?”

“Barely.”

The headlights dipped suddenly as the SUV bottomed out with a sharp metallic scrape.

Paige’s head lifted and fell back into his lap.

She moaned, clutching her side.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Jim said. “Didn’t catch that one in time.”

Grant could see the worried creases above his father’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“How we doing back there?” Jim asked.

“We’re doing great,” Grant said.

Paige mouthed, “Liar. It really hurts.”

“I know.”

“I can barely stand it.”

He held her hand and let her squeeze it.

The trip back to the highway took only half as long as the drive in.

Soon, they were speeding east on smooth pavement.

Grant pushed his fingers through Paige’s hair.

She stared up at him, cheeks pale, eyes heavy. Her skin felt cool and clammy.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice just a whisper now.

“Don’t. Just relax. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“I made you hurt someone.”

“That man shot my sister. He got off easy.”

Paige’s smile showed dark-red blood between her teeth.

Grant’s stomach tightened.

A liver hit.

“Are you cold?”

She nodded.

He slipped out of his North Face and draped it over her.

They rode on.

Climbing.

Paige’s breathing growing faster, more shallow. Beads of sweat forming on her face.

Her eyes had become slivers of white.

“Stay with me,” Grant said, squeezing her hand.

She gasped and cut loose a rattling cough.

Red foam appeared at the corners of her mouth.

Her lips moved.

“What was that?” Grant brought his ear so close to her mouth he could hear the bloody vibrato in her lungs.

She drew a tiny breath, let it escape in the smallest whisper: “Bad sister.”

The words detonated inside of him.

Grant brushed a few strands of hair away from her face.

“Stop it.”

He could feel her blood soaking through his pants. There was too much of it.

Grant looked up.

“Hey.”

Caught his father’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

They were hauling ass around a sharp turn, the tires just beginning to screech.

“How much longer, Dad?”

“I don’t know. Twenty? Twenty-five?”

“We’re gonna be pushing it.”

Jim’s eyes took on a shadow. He focused back on the road.

Grant looked down at his sister.

He smiled through a sheet of tears.

She said, “I heard what you just said.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t hurt much anymore.”

“That’s good.”

“I’m thirsty.”

“We’ll find some water for you.”

“Everything looks grey. And I think ... that might be the end coming. I can hardly see you, Grant.”

“I’m right here, Paige.”

“I’m thirsty.”

“I’m so glad it was you,” he said.

“What?”

“Can you hear me?”

It was a splinter of a nod.

“I know we hurt each other, but I wouldn’t have traded you for anything. Do you know that? I need you to know it in your heart.”

The edges of her mouth curled.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Jim said, “Grant.”

“Yeah?”

“How we doing?”

“She’s bleeding to death, Dad. We’re not gonna make it.”

Grant looked up, saw a new intensity enter his father’s eyes.

Jim Moreton said, “There’s another way.”