Chapter 132

Wil was grinning--Dallin could see the flash of teeth as he got closer, horribly savage and empty. Wil was sitting on the ground, eyes locked on to Calder as he planted his feet to the staves of the crossbow, yanked the whipcord with both hands, and seated it in its notch. He nocked a bolt like he'd been doing it all his life, pulled it up to his shoulder in the same way he aimed the rifle, and sighted down.

Good man, Dallin cheered silently, not terribly confident Wil could actually hit anything on his first go, but at the very least, it might be a distraction. Calder had finished reloading his own gun, eyes following as Dallin continued to run in a low crouch toward Wil. Calder raised the gun--