“That, too.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“No.”
“Then I reckon I’m going to take my shower,” he said ironically, getting off the couch. “If I hear anything from Knox, I’ll tell you.”
“Thanks.”
Dreading going to bed, Dustin flicked the channels to find a movie. Selecting one, he became engrossed in it and was about to spread out on the couch when he heard a faint scream.
Straightening, he tilted his head to listen, thinking he was wrong.
He started to lie down again, only to bolt up at another scream. He hastily turned the volume down on the television, getting to his feet.
Hearing it again, he ran to the door, grabbing the rifle hanging on the wall and expertly unlocking it to take it from the shelf.
“Greer!” he yelled out before going outside to listen for where the terrified scream had come from.
Running outside, he made it to the bottom of the steps when Greer ran out naked. He hadn’t even bothered to wrap a towel around him, but he had taken the time to grab his shotgun.
“What’s wrong?”
“I heard a woman screaming.” Dustin strained to listen. Hearing it again, he left the steps, unable to determine where the screams were coming from. “Where do you think it’s coming from? I can’t tell.”
“I don’t hear anything. Give me your phone. I’ll call Tate.”
“I left it on the coffee table.” Dustin took another step forward, even though he wasn’t sure which direction to listen to.
“Fuck.” Greer ran inside as Holly was about to come out.
“What’s—”
“Get you and Logan’s asses back inside. Lock yourselves in the bedroom with Rosie.”
Dustin turned only long enough to make sure Holly followed Greer’s order before taking a step to the side, trying to hear if the screams were closer in that direction.
“Tate and Sutton are on their way. Did it stop?”
“No. Can’t you hear it?”
“I don’t hear a fucking thing.” Greer moved to stand closer to him, cocking his head to the side and listening.
“There! Hear it?”
Greer shook his head, looking at him strangely. “No.”
“Then you’re deaf as a board, because she’s screaming her lungs out!”
Highlights shone on them as Tate pulled his truck into the driveway. He got out, carrying his rifle, before going to the other side of the truck to help Sutton down.
“Go inside,” Tate told his wife, going with her to the door and closing it before coming to him and Greer.
“What’s going on?”
“Dustin heard screams,” Greer told him. Both their faces took on laser sharp focus as they scanned the dark shadows of the woods.
Dustin walked in the other direction toward the chicken coop, still trying to find the direction of the screams.
“I don’t hear anything.” Tate walked farther toward the trees in the front yard.
“Me either.” Greer strategically posted himself to watch the other side of the yard.
“How can you not hear it?” The screams were filled with terror and hopelessness. “Where are you?” he called out.
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Jerking around, Dustin saw Tate staring at him in concern.
“Dustin, no one’s there.”
“I hear it!” he screamed. “She’s afraid. We have to find her.”
“We can’t find her because she ain’t here.” Greer began to look at him just as Tate was. “Did you fall asleep on the couch and just dreamed about someone screaming?”
“Not unless we’re all three having the same dream.” Dustin jerked away from Tate’s hand.
“I’m wide awake. How about you, Greer?”
It was everything he could do not to shoot Greer in his foot when his brother pinched himself.
“I’m wide awake. How about you?” Greer reached out to pinch Tate before he saw what he was about to do.
“Get your hairy ass away from me. I’m awake,” Tate groused, shoving Greer away with the butt of his rifle.
Dustin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stop talking and listen. She’s there. She’s close by.”
“I imagine she is. She’s in your fucking head,” Greer said, pinching him.
“Don’t do it,” Tate warned when Dustin took a swing at Greer. “Let’s get inside”—Tate stepped between them when Dustin would have lunged toward Greer after he stepped out of reach—“before we end up shooting each other. No one is outside but us.”
Dustin reluctantly went back inside, hearing the screams turn into a soft crying.
Going to the couch, he sat down, putting his head in his hands. “I’m losing my mind.”
“You want me to fix it?” Greer jokingly reached for his hair.
Dustin threw one of the couch pillows at him, not letting Greer touch him. “Go put some clothes on before you have to heal your own damn self,” he threatened.
“Jeez, I’m just trying to take your mind off what’s going on in that chicken head of yours.”
“When I need your help, I’ll ask for it,” he snarled. The heart-wrenching sobs had him wanting to go back outside. Only knowing it was useless kept him on the couch.