Free Never Too Far by Thomas Christopher Page B

out the door. But he managed to twist his body in time to grab hold of the doorframe before falling onto the road. At the same instant, the horses reared up. They jerked the tilting wagon and took off running. Joe’s legs smacked against the ground and flailed in the air. He didn’t panic, though. Not even close. A few seconds later, when his legs fell against the road for a third time, he kicked his feet against the ground. His legs popped high and he hooked a knee over the edge of the wagon bed. From there he worked his body over enough to swing himself into the wagon.
    Meanwhile, Mary caught the reins. She was doing everything she could to stop the horses. Joe crawled through the back window and toppled into the cab. He landed head first on the floorboards, where he curled around and scrambled onto the bench. Mary gripped the back of the bench with one hand as she bounced around. The reins were twisted tight around her other hand, all the way up to her elbow. They were pulling at her sleeve so much that Joe thought the coiled reins were going to rip the sleeve clean off her skin or yank her arm out of its socket. He lunged forward and snatched the taut reins at the end of her hand while he hung onto the dashboard to keep from bouncing out the front window.
    “Get your arm out!” Joe shouted.
    Mary shook her arm. 
    “Easy!” he shouted at the horses. “Easy!”
    Finally, Lester started to slow, which made Sam calm down enough so that they both slowed to a trot.
    “Whoa, boys. Whoa. Whoa.” 
    When the horses came to a full stop—their heads shaking and nodding, their muscles twitching and shivering—Mary leapt out. She ran to the side of Lester’s neck and spread her hands over his skin. She combed her fingers through his mane and pressed her cheek against him. His shivering muscles relaxed until there was barely a ripple. Joe watched in amazement until he noticed the rip in his pants and the red scrape alongside his knee. When he stepped out of the cab, his knees buckled under a jolt of pain. He hobbled over to the blown tire and knelt on his good knee.
    The tire was shredded down to the rusty wheel rim. Joe had no idea what had happened. The tires were old and cracking, for sure, but for it to just blow like that was unusual. He looked back down the road and spotted what appeared to be a row of spikes sticking up like the tongs on a garden rake. It didn’t take much to realize that someone had set a trap and sprung it just as the wagon rolled near it. And whoever set it must still be lurking in the trees somewhere. When he looked ahead at the horses, he didn’t see Mary right away, and he jumped to his feet.
    “Where are you?” he said. There was no answer.
    He hurried around Lester and found her on the other side of Sam. She was stroking him and pressing her cheek against his flank.
    “There you are. Why didn’t you answer me?” he said, as if she was a regular chatterbox. “We’re not safe. We need to get out of here. Get in the cab.”
    Mary stood there like she didn’t understand, or else showing some kind of defiance. Whichever it was, Joe didn’t care. He didn’t have time for explanations. He grabbed her by her thin shoulders and spun her around. He shoved her to the cab and pushed her in.
    On the other side of the wagon, he grabbed the rifle and quickly glanced into the murky forest. After that , he hauled the spare tire out of the wagon bed and dropped it on the ground. He could feel something about to happen, a presence, a portent, a static in the air.
    Suddenly, wild whoops and cries shattered the air. Joe twisted around to see what it was. A stampede of men flew out of the dark forest like shrieking bats swooping out of a cave. The men beat on shields and wielded clubs and machetes and spears. The terrifying racket scared Lester and Sam. They bolted down the road again, dragging the limping wagon behind them. He heard Mary scream. One of the wild men dropped to a knee, raised a bow, and