Page 94 of Mountain Void

“Wait here,” she told Théo as she ran up the porch steps. “Lorenz!”

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Lorenz

Lorenz shook his head.

The movement sent a sharp, liquid slosh through his head. Everything in his skull scattered at once, like from the break shot in a pool game.

He lifted a hand. He wasn’t quite ready to let go of the door that was holding him upright, so he tightened his grip on the wood instead, forcing the world to steady.

He had to stay upright.

“Pelletier ran out the back door,” he said, swallowing down a wave of nausea. “He still has his revolver. We’re exposed out here.”

Failure tasted bitter in his mouth.

He’d underestimated Pelletier.

He’d let him get too many hits in.

Lorenz drew a breath and tasted metal. Two cracked ribs, at least. The left side of his head burned where a bullet had grazed him.

A bullet that could just as easily have hit Charlie or the boy.

He realized how lucky he was to be standing. A couple of inches further, and that bullet could have ended him, leaving Charlie and the boy unprotected.

He cut the thought off, hard.

Anger helped, giving him the strength to stand up straight, when his body threatened to fail.

“You’re hurt,” Charlie said softly.

“I’m functional,” he corrected. He had experience with pain, and none of his injuries were life-threatening. Staying out here, with Pelletier out there—that was the biggest danger.

Charlie’s look told him she didn’t believe him. She was too smart, and knew him too well. She slipped in under his left arm, supporting more of his weight than he would have liked.

“I’m here, Lorenz. Lean on me.”

“Inside,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Come with us, Théo,” Charlie said, sneaking a look behind them.

“Mais mon père …”

“He’s not inside,” Lorenz said. The boy’s features smoothed in relief. And determination. The boy climbed the porch steps and moved to Lorenz’s other side, slipping in under his shoulder as he’d seen Charlie do.

“I can help,” he said.

Something tightened in Lorenz’s chest.

He kept the pressure on the boy’s shoulders light as he and Charlie guided him through the doorway and into the hut, towards the table—what was left of it—and the single standing chair.

“The chair,” Charlie said.

“Lock the door first,” Lorenz replied, leaning one hand on the back of the chair for support.

Charlie nodded and raced back to the door, kicking it shut behind them and sliding the bolt into place with a sharp, decisive motion. The sound struck a nerve, and Lorenz had to force himself to breathe deeply. Now wasn’t the time to worry about small, enclosed spaces.