Page 71 of The Serpent King

Aw thank you. Hey I just got an idea.

TELL ME.

When Deathstorm comes out, we should meet in between where we live and read it together!!

I LOVE THAT IDEA!!!!!

Ok we’ll do it!! We can get blankets and lie in the back of my truck and read with flashlights.

PERFECT!! OMG CAN’T WAIT!!!

Travis shivered and thought about closing up shop, but he wasn’t sleepy yet, and sleeping was about all he could do when he sneaked into Dill’s house each night. Not a word had passed between him and his father at work. His father certainly hadn’t invited him home—not that he would have accepted such an invitation. He talked with his mom regularly when he went by to pick up food while his father was out. He didn’t tell her where he slept, but he assured her—on his honor—that it was in a safe, warm place.

The other reason Travis saw no reason to close up yet was that he was reading Nightwinds, the fifth book in the Bloodfall series, by flashlight. He’d managed to reread Bloodfall, Raventhrone, Swordfall, and Wolfrun in time to put away Nightwinds before Deathstorm came out in March. And that was even with starting his writing career.

His phone buzzed. A text from Lydia. Have big news. Tell you when I see you.

Hope it’s that you gave my story to G. M. Pennington’s agent and they want to publish it LOL, he texted back.

A set of headlights in the distance. An older model white Nissan Maxima slowed and pulled up behind Travis’s pickup. He set down his book, clicked off his flashlight, and hopped down. Two men got out of the Maxima. Travis didn’t recognize either of them; they were both wearing hoods that obscured their faces.

“Hey, gentlemen,” Travis said. “Get you some firewood on this chilly night?”

One of the men hung behind a little bit. The other stepped forward. “Yeah, man. How much?”

“Small bundle’s five dollars, big bundle’s ten. Cut you a deal on the whole rest of what I got if you’re interested.”

“Lemme think about it, bro.” Something about the man seemed strange. He had a nervous, jittery energy.

The man who hung back joined his compatriot. “We’ll take a large,” he said.

“Okay.” Travis rummaged in his pickup bed for a nice large bundle.

When he turned around, the man pointed a gun at him. “Gimme your money, bro. Hurry your ass up. All your cash.”

Travis’s heart began pounding. His mouth went dry. His legs felt rubbery beneath him. He raised his hands. “Okay, okay, okay. No problem. No problem. Just take whatever.” He handed over his wallet.

The man seemed even more nervous and jittery than the first man Travis had spoken to. “What you got in the truck?”

Travis opened the cab door. He reached for his zipper pouch on the floorboard, where he kept most of his firewood earnings for the night. It was wedged under his staff. He picked up his staff to move it out of the way.

He heard a deafening crack and simultaneously felt a sledgehammer blow to his ribs. It knocked him into the doorframe.

“Shit, dude! Why’d you shoot him?” the other man screamed. “Come on, we gotta move.”

The man who shot Travis yanked the zipper pouch from his hand. The two men dashed to the Maxima, jumped in, and screeched away. Travis watched their taillights disappear over the rise. His brain told him that he should have gotten the license plate number, but it was too late.

He managed to stay standing, but gripped the door of his truck for support. He didn’t feel well at all. He couldn’t feel his legs or arms. His face was numb. His heart was working too hard. He couldn’t breathe. He had a coppery taste in his mouth. He was suddenly thirsty. And cold. He began to shiver uncontrollably.

He didn’t think he could drive and decided to try to flag down a car. His legs failed him so he crawled toward the road, fumbling in his jacket pocket for his phone. He dropped it in front of him and dialed 911.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“I think someone shot me.”

“All right sir, what is your location?”

“River Road. Is my mom there?”