Read Online A Matter of Days by Amber Kizer - Free Book Online Page B

almost forget why we were here. Exhaustion clawed at me, and even brushing my teeth twice didn’t get rid of the strange metallic taste in my mouth. The Jeep was too hot to sleep in, so we rolled out sleeping bags on a tarp. I slept with my sneakers on and the car keys tied around my wrist.
    “What’s that noise?”
    “What noise?” I asked, without opening my eyes.
    “That, over there.”
    I heard it, but it sounded distinctly like something Rab might joke about. “Rabbit, stop that.”
    “I’m not doing anything.”
    “You’re making whining noises.” I didn’t even have the energy to roll my eyes.
    “I am not.”
    “Go to sleep.” I was exhausted. I couldn’t handle any more antics from Rabbit. I couldn’t do it. “Don’t make me lock you in the car.”
    “Seriously? You’d do that?” He almost sounded hurt.
    Like hell. Of course not
. “Sure.”
Why am I the person elected to get Rab and myself to West Virginia?
I wanted to go back in time. Demand a redo. Give Mom the shot sooner no matter the consequences.
    “Fine.” Rabbit burrowed down into his sleeping bag and I drifted off.
    I woke sometime later—it might have been hours or seconds—to growling and hissing. “Rab?” I whispered.
    His voice was as quiet as a sigh. “It’s a big cat. Standing over there.” He tried to point.
    “Don’t move.” Why hadn’t I slept with the handgun?
Because I thought I might shoot myself?
I reached for a large stick, trying to figure out if I could throw it hard enough to do any damage before the animal ate us.
    Growling grew louder, more insistent.
From a second animal? Ah, crap, they’re a pack
. “What’s that?” There were two voices, not just the hissing. Like a fight. They sounded like adversaries before they battled to the death. The thought nauseated me. “Don’t move, Rab.”
    I tried to remember to breathe—oxygen makes the brain work better.
Shallow breathing kills common sense
. There was a tinny smell in the air. A sort of bloody tincture that seemed familiar. Blood? Pus? I worked the zipper down until I could throw off the sleeping bag and get to my feet quickly.
    I didn’t know what to do.
Think, Nadia. Think
.
    Play dead? Cover your head? Protect your stomach? Protect your brother
. I had to sacrifice myself, a pound of my flesh. Hopefully, Rab could get the gun or throw rocks, or something, from the car. There was no choice. Lying here silent wasn’t improving our chances.
    The growling intensified; the hissing quieted. Then a chilling scream rent the night.
    Something nudged my foot, snapped tension into my body like a taut bowline, and I tossed the bag. A surprised yelp told me that the animal was covered for a minute.
    I grabbed Rab and tried to lift him, running toward the car. He’d gotten bigger and I’d gotten weaker—not a good combo. “Get in the car!” I hauled him, then turned to face the animals.
    He giggled. I knew stress affected different people differently, but laughing? Really? Did he have to?
    Rab didn’t even try to close the driver’s door before his giggles turned into full-blown guffaws, so hard he sounded near tears.
    I picked up a rock, squinted into the night. “Get the gun! Quick!” Did he not know how dangerous this was? I was putting myself in front of him, the least he could do was refrain from finding my impending death humorous.
    “You—you—” Rab clicked on his flashlight.
    I saw a shaggy black tail sticking out from the unzipped sleeping bag.
Aren’t cougars a tan color?
    I shoved Rab over and climbed in, slamming the door behind me.
Where’s the gun?
I wanted metal and glass and locks between me and the damn creature out there.
    “Uh, Nadia?” Rabbit barely got the words out between strangling bellows.
    “Thanks for saving your life? You owe me one?” I bit off the words.
    “Um.” Rab pointed. “Look.”
    I turned in a huff, expecting to see slobbering fangs and slanted yellow eyes and maybe even signs of frothy-mouthed