Read Online Strum Again? Book Three of the Songkiller Saga by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough - Free Book Online Page B

or other she had managed to attract a totally
independent and unaffiliated butchering maniac.
    And if he did get her, that would make her a
martyr to the cause, wouldn't it? Not that she couldn't wait
indefinitely for such an honor, but at least it would make sense of
her death and give it some kind of purpose. They'd probably write a
real powerful song about her. They'd damn well better. And if the
cause failed and they couldn't get anybody over here to listen to
the moving ballad about how heroic she was, they could just take
the song back over to the UK where people would listen, or she'd
come back and haunt them. Come to think of it, another ghost among
all they'd seen lately wouldn't be any more impressive than her
living self, so she thought if it was all the same to everybody
else, she'd prefer to get out of this with a whole skin.
    Behind her the truck tires screamed and the
engine roared, and she glanced back to see the headlamps sweeping
crazily around the field as the truck turned in circles, the
taillights as red as some crazy wild animal's eyes. As if they were
indeed eyes, they found her, and when the truck spun around again,
she felt the glow of the headlamps hot as sunlight on her face and
arms. For a moment she stood frozen as the maniac behind the wheel
jerked his tires into a straight line to head for her, then the
green light bobbed back overhead so that she was momentarily caught
in a cross-spot like some kind of opera star. Realizing what a good
target she was making, she jumped sideways, away from the light,
heedless of cactus and stones, and as she jumped, something long
and skinny whizzed through the light to land in the glow of the
green with a thunk and stand there quivering. An arrow—long steel
sucker. Not the play-acting Indian kind, but a serious,
bear-hunting type arrow, the kind sportsmen used when they wanted
an extra challenge.
    Jesus, hadn't the bastard ever heard of
guns? But if he had, she'd have been a goner already.
    Her eyes had been fixed on the truck, and it
bore down on her, targeting the green light. Then, abruptly, there
were three green lights, and two of them charged toward the truck,
swooping toward the windshield. The brakes shrieked and the
headlights twisted sideways.
    But the wheelbase was too short for that,
and the truck must have struck a boulder, because all of a sudden
the headlights were on top of each other instead of side by side,
and Gussie heard an awful grinding sound as the wheels still in
contact with the ground dug into it. Had he survived? She wasn't
about to go look. She ran instead toward the remaining light and
now noticed, beyond all the extraneous illumination, other lights,
small and distant but stable. She could just make out the neon sign
that said "Cafe." The green globe fell behind as she stumbled
toward the new beacon.
     
    * * *
     
    James Francis Farnham was awakened by the
smell of gasoline and burning rubber, the sound of grinding,
spinning tires, and realized without surprise as he turned off the
ignition that he was going nowhere fast. He had failed the voices,
after all. He had not kept the old bitch from crossing the border.
He became aware of a sharp, burning pain in his left leg as he
pulled himself out of the driver's seat, toward the passenger door.
He must have damaged the leg when his weight slid over against the
driver's side and a boulder dented the door. On top of the
passenger's side of the truck, he took just an extra moment to
claim a flashlight from the glove box. Reluctantly he decided to
leave the butcher knife behind. Something that would work just as
well was easy to find. The same wasn't true of the crossbow, of
course, but he was out of practice anyway, or the bitch would have
been skewered by now. Besides, it was too incriminating.
    Limping away from the ruined truck, he saw
the green lights jigging up and down, as if they were laughing at
him.
     
     

CHAPTER 5
     
    Hugh Graham, the man from SWALLOW, was
everything a