“I have no idea,” May admitted. “He might not. But things can’t get worse for us. He’s already guessed where we are.”
She flinched as a closer tree blasted under the impact. She could hear his footsteps now, crunching closer.
“You don’t need to worry,” he called.
“I—I’ll try. I guess I have to,” Chanel whispered. “But what will you do?”
“I’ll try to get around behind him. You go over this side of the deadfall. Make him look there. I’ll go the far side.”
Chanel swallowed. Then she nodded.
May crept over to the edge of the deadfall. And then, in a trembling voice, Chanel called, “Help me! The policewoman is hurting me!”
There was absolute silence from beyond.
“She’s hurting me. Come and get me!” Chanel called.
May could see this had struck a chord in the delusional man’s mind. For a moment at least, he was distracted from the killing mindset that was forcing him to slaughter his terrified victims.
With his attention hopefully focused the other way, May dropped to the ground and wriggled out from the deadfall, keeping as low as possible as she wormed her way through the undergrowth, feeling intensely vulnerable now that there was no protection between him and her. Any shotgun blast would drill straight through her in an instant.
But Chanel was doing a fantastic job. Her voice was as false and plaintive as his had been. May could hear she was imitating someone. Perhaps she was remembering the pleas of her younger sister whom she’d tried so hard to protect.
“Oh, please help me! Please come and help me. She’s being so cruel! I’m scared!”
And clearly, Jackson was captivated. At any rate, the shotgun had not blasted out again. Perhaps, in the last sane corner of his mind, he was recognizing that there was someone out here he needed to protect.
Hoping she was out of range of his vision, May set off to the nearest tree at a silent run, keeping crouched.
She had made it. Her heart was going at what felt like two hundred beats a minute, but she’d gotten to cover and she was now nearing him. Seemingly hypnotized by Chanel, he was pacing slowly toward her.
May did another run. Reached another tree. Just one more and she would be directly behind him.
She ran. She got to the tree. She was behind him.
He was still moving toward Chanel, who was keeping up her act brilliantly.
“Don’t hurt me!” she was pleading. “Please, save me from this woman!”
Now, May had to close in on him while the power of this delusion was keeping him from killing.
She ran closer. Close enough to see the shotgun, still gripped in his hand.
“Where are you?” he asked. “Come out, or I’ll shoot. Come out now! Show yourself to me!”
Chanel’s charm was wearing off. He was starting to veer back to his original purpose and forgetting the distraction.
It was now or never. May burst out from the screen of greenery. He heard her and started to turn.
The shotgun barrel swung around to her. She saw his face tauten in anger.
And then she reached him, launching at him in a flying tackle. She knocked him to the ground. The shotgun blast went high. In fact, the blast was so loud it was deafening, the gunpowder blast burning her face and stinging her eyes.
She clung to the man with all her strength. They hit the ground together. But May was on top and using her weight and strength against him. She grabbed at the shotgun with both hands, trying to wrest it from his grip. He fought back with all the strength of madness.
For a terrible moment, she thought she wasn’t going to be able to do it. She was going to get shot. But finally, she was able to grab the barrel and stab it down toward him. The butt of the gun caught his chin and he flinched.
May grabbed the gun out of his hand. She kneed him in the stomach, choking the breath out of him. He curled up, gasping, coughing.