Chapter 4 - The Neighbor's Fence
A harsh vibration buzzed in the palm of my hand. The phone was receiving incoming calls back-to-back. Names like *MOM'S CELL*, *CHLOE INFLUENCER MGMT*, and dozens of unknown numbers flashed and vanished, overridden by the relentless torrent of comments.
*@lexi_v: Emily, don't move if your back is hurt!! Sirens are on the way, I gave dispatch the address!*
*@dan_turner: Stay awake, girl! Keep your eyes open!*
I couldn't wait for sirens. Arthur Carver was the former deputy commissioner of the borough; he knew every trooper and patrol sergeant in this district. If the police showed up on a vague internet tip, Arthur would smile, pour them eggnog, tell them Lily was pulling an online prank, and send them on their way—after which he’d come out back with a shovel to finish what he started.
I had to clear the property line.
Gritting my teeth until my jaw popped, I tucked the phone into my inner coat pocket and crawled. The wooden fence separating our property from Old Man Henderson’s homestead was thirty yards away. Henderson was a retired pipeline welder who hated Arthur with the fiery passion of an old Alaskan frontiersman.
Blood warm and thick trickled from my hairline, freezing instantly into an iron crust near my eyelashes. My left arm hung uselessly at an unnatural angle from the shoulder. Every pull of my right arm sent lightning bolts through my fractured ribs, threatening to puncture my pleura.
*One foot. Two feet. Breathe.*
A floodlight snapped on behind me.
May you like
The back porch flooded with dazzling white halogen light. Arthur stepped out into the freezing wind, wearing his heavy shearling coat and leather work gloves. In his right hand, he carried a heavy canvas tarp and a magnesium road flare.
He hadn't come to check if I was breathing. He had come to clean up the yard.
