Luke. “A real rifle.” He held up a cartridge. It had a small copper bullet, along with a smooth brass casing. “Here’s yours,” Luke continued, before handing Tim the bullet. “We all get to shoot it once, and we’re going to have a rock-paper-scissors tournament to see who shoots first.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Tim asked. “If we get caught shooting back here, that’s going to be the end of summer.”
“You’re telling me,” said Scott. “That’s Carl’s gun. If he knew I took it, much less fired it, I think he might just decide it would be easier to kill me than to come up with a big enough punishment.”
“So why did you take it?”
“Because we all want to shoot at that target. And besides, we’re not going to be hurting anybody. We’re going to shoot the gun three times, break it back down, and then walk to my house to put it away. We don’t even have to clean it, because it’s still dirty from when Carl sighted it in.”
“I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“We’re going to shoot it either way,” said Luke, who from the sound of his voice had forgotten the problems of the day prior. “Whether you want to or not. We’re not going to get caught,either. Almost all of the noise will be absorbed by the fort, and that thing’s not going to be much louder than our air rifles. I already beat Scott at rock-paper-scissors, so you have to go against me to see who gets the first shot, and then the loser will go against Scott to see who shoots second. Are you in, or are you out?”
“In,” said Tim with a grin, and Luke and Tim squared off in the center of the fort, while Scott, cradling the rifle, said, “Best two out of three.” Luke had his right fist set down on his upturned palm, and Tim did the same, still grinning. “One, two, three,” the boys said together, and Luke stayed with rock, while Tim opted for scissors.
They repeated the action again, this time with Tim pulling rock and Luke going scissors. The final outcome was determined when Tim defeated Luke with paper over rock. “We should have flipped coins or something,” said Luke, a dark look on his face.
“No sour grapes,” said Scott, laughing. “You agreed that this was the fairest way to decide who went first. You ready to see who goes second?”
“Yeah,” said Luke, the dark look already fading. “I beat you once, Scotty, I can beat you again.”
“All right, then, here we go,” said Scott. “Best two out of three.”
17
Amy was into the woods like a wild and finally loosed animal. Hooper was fit, but still had trouble keeping up with her, losing her visually only to find her a nerve-shattering second later, over and over again. Branches tugged at his skin, and brambles and thorns stuck in his shirt and hair, but he noticed none of the pain, ignoring everything except her.
She ran with an awkward gait, scrambling this way and that in a blind panic, tearing through trees seemingly at random, but heading toward the drive-in movie theater. If she made it there before him, there would be space for her to move in almost any direction, and if there was someone working, maintenance most likely, he would be forced to kill that person, and maybe even kill her too.
The cap and glasses were barely staying on his head, and Hooper kept having to fix them with his hands. If ever there was a time when he wished he were wearing a disguise, this was it, but the ball cap and sunglasses would have to do. The pistol was growing heavy in his hand. He’d never have chosen it as a carry piece, but in the time of need it had been his only option. When I catch her and get her back to the house, I’m going to beat the shit out of her, and I’m going to fuck her every which way but loose. The thought of punishing her lent speed to his legs, and for the first time since the chase had begun, Hooper began gaining ground on her.
She slowed as she crossed a small creek—sharp rocks don’t go well with bare