“Hey! What’s going on?” It was Thor. “Why are you—Ms. Delia?”
At the unexpected sight of Cordelia’s face, Thor froze. Just for a moment, but that was all it took. Sherry kicked him in the groin and Thor doubled over like an abandoned rag doll.
If Thor had been a vicious thug, I’d have applauded Sherry’s quick thinking and capable execution of a highly effective self-defense measure. But since Thor was our would-be rescuer, our now-disabled knight in shining armor, I couldn’t help but deplore her underhanded tactics.
“Take that, you creep!” she hissed. She kicked him in the stomach, hard. I could hear a slight oof! as the air went out of him. She aimed another kick at Thor’s face.
The kick never landed. Cordelia head-butted Sherry, sending her staggering toward me. I deliberately hurled myself toward Sherry’s oncoming form. We collided hard and fell in a tangled heap of thrashing limbs.
For a few seconds, I kicked Sherry as hard as I could and tried to roll on top of her to keep her down, while she struggled to heave me away. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Thor curled in a fetal position under the camellia bush and Cordelia staggering toward the backyard. Good; the backyard was our goal. The backyard, and the wire fence, and beyond it Camp Emu, where dozens of potential rescuers lay sleeping.
“Get off of me!” Sherry hissed. She scrambled to her feet, aimed a kick at my still-throbbing head—ow!—and turned to see where Cordelia had gone.
Thump! Thump! Thump! Thud-thud-thud! Thump! Thump! Thump!
Cordelia hadn’t reached the wire fence, but she had reached her house’s old-fashioned flat metal cellar door and had begun jumping up and down on it, thumping out an SOS in Morse code. The sound was surprisingly loud in the peaceful, generator-free night air, but would it be enough to rouse the camp? And would anyone in camp recognize Morse code when they heard it?
“Stop that!” Sherry hissed. She ran toward Cordelia. I staggered to my feet and took off toward the back fence.
Thump! Thump! Thump! Thud-thud-thud! Thump! Thump!—
I could hear the sounds of a scuffle as I ran past, but I didn’t stop to see what was happening. I had my head down and was charging toward the fence. If I could get over it before Sherry stopped me …
Behind me, I could hear more hissed orders from Sherry. I didn’t waste energy trying to figure out what she was saying or whether she was hissing at me or Cordelia. Always the possibility she’d finally lose patience and shoot me in the back, but I could only hope she was still trying to avoid shattering the silent night with gunfire. And she’d have to be an awfully good shot to hit me with both of us running. And every second I ran was another second for Thor to get his breath back or Cordelia to recover from whatever Sherry had just done to her. Or for someone to spot us. Where was Stanley? He’d agreed to stand guard. He was probably doing it from the across the fence, but surely he’d have noticed something by now.
“Stop right now or I’ll shoot!” Sherry hissed, from alarmingly close behind me.
I didn’t stop. I was approaching the back fence.
Suddenly I spotted something lying on the ground near the fence. Not something—someone, trussed up and gagged. The silver duct tape gleamed slightly in the moonlight.
It was Stanley. Evidently, he had been on guard, and had become Sherry’s first captive. As I approached, I saw him squirm closer to the fence and hunch his back oddly.
He was making himself into a step to help me over the fence. He probably figured helping me escape was his best chance for survival.
I had a few seconds to figure out what to do. I should probably avoid his back. And his neck. I jumped up onto his rear end and from there I managed to vault over the fence.
I landed with a thud. Across the fence, I heard rustling noises, and cursing. Evidently Stanley had managed to wriggle into Sherry’s path and trip her.
I staggered back to my feet and looked around, trying to orient myself.
Sherry sailed over the fence, slammed into me, and knocked me back to the ground.
“You’re ruining everything!” She was flailing at me—not very effectively, but some of her blows hit home. And I’d landed painfully on my lacerated hand.
Barking erupted from somewhere nearby. The dogs! We were near the emu pen. Lad, Tinkerbell, and Spike were in there with the flock. I silently promised them a pound or two of treats if they barked loud enough to raise the camp.
Sherry was on top of me, still pounding and cursing as I wriggled frantically, trying to get into a position where I could kick her. I realized that she wasn’t just pounding with her fists. She still had the gun in one of them, which hurt a hell of a lot more than her fist. And at any moment she could realize she’d lost the battle for silence and use the gun to silence me permanently. I struggled harder.