Excerpt of Paying the Ferryman by Jane A. Adams

[Sarah] heard her mother scream and her stepfather shouting, “run, Sarah, run! Just run!”

And then two loud bangs that seemed to fill the house.

“Mum!” Sarah cried out, but she knew. Her mother was gone, Vic too, and there was only one thing left for her to do. Obey her stepfather’s final words and run.

The toddler had begun to whimper again, scared by the noise and by Sarah’s sudden tension. What to do, what the hell should she do?

She could hear his footsteps in the hall, another moment and he’d be coming up the stairs. Sarah backed away looking for a way to escape. There was no way she could climb down from the window with her brother in her arms. She had to find some means of getting down the stairs and outside.

He was on the stairs, now and Sarah did the only thing she could think of, she dodged into her parents’ room and hid behind the half open door, willing her little brother to stay silent and still.

The slow tamp of footsteps rose up the stairs and onto the landing. Her father never said a word. As he came onto the landing she could see that he was still holding the gun she had heard fired downstairs. It gleamed in the light coming from Jack’s bedroom, his little plug in nightlight turning the harsh metal a soft, petal pink. Sarah dare not breathe.

Please, go into my room, she prayed. Go into my room. It was the furthest down the hall and would give them just a little time to get to the stairs.

So little time.

She wasn’t sure if her father intended to kill her or abduct her, but Sarah wasn’t sure if either if one was any worse than the other and then there was Jack to think about. Her father had killed Jack’s parents without a second through. There was nothing to make her believe he would spare the child.

Sarah had been unable to help her mother or Vic but she was not about to let this man hurt Jack.

Her breath hurt in her chest. Slowly, she exhaled and then cautiously drew the air back into her lungs. She was certain he would hear her.

He moved along the landing towards her brother’s little room and went inside. Surely he must realise they weren’t there, Sarah thought. Or did he no longer think logically. Did someone who had just killed two people really even think?

Through the crack between door and hinges on her parent’s bedroom door, she saw him go through the half closed door and then push it wide. Then her father stepped inside and Sarah knew it was now or never. He might move down the hall to her room but he could just as easily turn the other way and that would be an end of things. She just knew it.

Moving as softly as she could and just praying that Jack would stay quiet, Sarah stepped around the door and out of the room. She could not see her father and guessed he must be standing somewhere in the middle of the room or maybe even by the window. She kept close to the wall, away from the creaky floor boards that Vic was always trying to silence by adding more nails.

She made it to the top of the stairs and now she could see him, a shadowy figure standing beside Jack’s empty cot and looking down into it, the gun still in his hand. Sarah moved onto the stairs, hurrying down them as fast as she could on slippered feet. He only had to turn, now, and he’d have a clean shot at them.

Her heart hammered, breath rasping as she tried hard to control it. Jack now felt very heavy in her arms. They were half way down the stairs when she heard the shots.

Sarah couldn’t help herself. She screamed, and only as the sound escaped did she realise that the shots had come from Jack’s room and were not aimed in their direction.

Not yet.

As she leapt down the last two steps she heard him come out onto the landing and start down the stairs.

Sarah’s thoughts seemed to come very fast. The front door? No, he’d have a clear view of her and the bolts were heavy and difficult to move.

The back door then, hope her mother hadn’t locked up for the night.

Sarah charged through into the kitchen, slamming the door closed behind her, even while a little bit of her brain laughed that it was hardly going to be able to stop a bullet.

The key had been turned in the back door lock but had not been removed. She turned it, glancing down to ensure the bolt had not been thrown, thankful beyond words to find it hadn’t. Jack was yelling now and she yanked the back door wide just as the man with the gun came into the kitchen.

Out into the garden, rain pounded down, fierce and cold and she held Jack tighter, screwing up her eyes against the force of it. She pulled the garden gate wide, then Sarah ran and ran.

Behind her a shot blasted through the cold night air and the pouring rain and she felt the pain of it. Sarah staggered, almost hit the floor. Jack was quiet now, still heavy in her arms. She tightened her grip, her side was on fire and her right arm didn’t want to work. Somehow, she stumbled on.