WREN
The ranch is quieter than itâs ever been.
The ranch hands that are still here are out in the far pastures most of the time, and the roar of engines and loud voices is replaced by cicadas buzzing during the day and crickets singing at night.
The solitude is deafening.
Lance checks in with me frequently. He calls or texts me when he gets breaks, and we talk about everything from the broken tractor to the livestock sales.
After just a few days, my desire to be in his arms again morphs into a dull ache. I canât wait for him to come home.
I end up staying at the apartment while heâs gone. Iâm buried in the tractor repair, desperate to get it working again before they come home, which results in working late every night.
By the time I call it quits, I have just enough energy to go upstairs, shower, feed Puck, and eat canned soup before I pass out in bed.
The day they are due to arrive home, I get up early toâhopefullyâfinish fixing the tractor.
Additionally, weâll be receiving a delivery of supplies today, and I want to be ready to sign for it while itâs unloaded.
The storage shelves are in the Big Red Barn where the garage is, so it made sense for me to accept the delivery while Lance is gone. He offered to come home early, but I assured him I could take care of it.
My heart skips a beat when he texts me at ten a.m. to say they are leaving. I canât believe how much I miss him.
At noon, I hear the crunch of gravel under tires and assume the delivery is here. I put Puck in the office and close the door so he isnât in the way before I open the large bay door.
As the door lifts, I notice the delivery truck is parked at an angle instead of backed up to the door like it usually is.
As the door raises above my head, I walk out to try to find the driver when Iâm suddenly hit in the head with something hard and heavy. I feel my body hit the ground but I donât see anything.
âGet her inside,â a voice growls as gravel crunches all around me.
Somebody roughly grabs my arms and drags my body over the concrete. My head feels like itâs going to split open and I canât seem to lift it.
I hear the bay door close as my body is dropped on the floor. A large, rough hand squeezes and smacks my face a few times.
âWake up.â
I finally peel my eyes open and look into the dark brown eyes behind a black mask.
âWhereâs the safe?â
My mind is searching for the answer but Iâm still in a heavy fog.
âWhat?â The only word I can manage to say seeps out of me.
He squeezes my face harder and I cry out.
âWhere is the fucking safe?!â
I look around and see five men in black clothing and black masks looking around the garage. ~Oh fuck, this is bad.~
âI donât know.â
âDonât play dumb with me or this will end very badly for you.â
âOver here!â
We look over and see one of the other men open the door to the office where Lance keeps a medium-sized black safe behind his desk.
Just then, Puck comes barreling out and darts to my side. Without hesitation, he starts biting the manâs leg who was holding my face.
âAh, fuck! Get this mutt off me!â
The man kicks at Puck but he refuses to let go. Another man approaches and pulls a pistol out, pointing it at Puck.
âNo!â I scream, and haul myself up to lunge at the gun. The man holding the gun kicks me in the chest, hard, and I fall back to the ground with a sickening crack.
âPuck! Thatâll do! Thatâll do!â I scream.
Puck lets go of the manâs leg just as another man comes up and takes the gun.
âNo guns, dipshit, someone might hear.â
Puck comes up to me and licks my face.
âGo home, Puck, go now!â I yell.
Puck whines then tears off out of the garage through the doggy door that Lance installed. Iâm relieved he listened and is going to Lanceâs house.
I donât know if heâll find help with so few people around, but I hope he will stay there and stay safe until this is over.
âShe sent him for help. We need to get out of here now.â
I pull my phone out of my pocket and start to dial 911, but the man Puck bit kicks it out of my hand and it goes sliding across the floor. He hobbles over and stomps on it several times.
The man who was holding the gun walks back toward me and kicks me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. He kneels down and wraps a hand around my throat.
âIf I had my way, Iâd make you watch me kill your fucking dog then Iâd end you.â
Heâs whispering, but his voice is familiar.
I cough multiple times, desperately trying to get ~my~ breath back in my lungs. Then thereâs another blow to my head and everything goes black.