No Ordinary Day by Tate, Harley (best large ereader .txt) 📕

a video game faster than him, she stayed up all night, hiding in the basement with no lights, playing until she fell asleep mid-move. When a kid at school dared her to climb onto the roof to retrieve a lost soccer ball, she never hesitated.

This was no different. She grabbed the gun discarded by the unconscious man and shoved it beneath her waistband. “Go find the other one. We need all the firepower we can get.”

Emma wavered as she walked, good arm out in front to break a potential fall. She crouched above the man she killed and pried the gun from his thick, lifeless fingers. “What do you want to do with them?”

“We leave the dead one for now.” She stood, staring down at the wounded, but alive man at her feet. “But we need to bring this one back to the cabin. Make sure he can’t escape.”

“He’s too heavy to carry.”

“We’ll have to drag him.” She bent back down and patted the man’s pockets, pulling out a phone, some other electronic device, and a set of keys. She shoved them all in her jacket and motioned for Emma to join her. “You grab one arm and I’ll grab the other. I’m sorry, it’s going to hurt, but we need to get him back before he wakes up.”

Emma nodded, color returning a bit to her cheeks. “I can do it.”

They each grabbed a limp wrist and on the count of three, pulled. It wasn’t easy. Sweat broke out across Gloria’s brow and Emma stumbled more than once, but together they dragged him all the way back to the cabin.

As soon as she reached the front porch, Gloria shouted, “Holly! Holly it’s safe, are you all right?”

“We’re okay,” replied a small voice from somewhere inside.

Gloria closed her eyes in relief for a moment as Holly emerged from the cabin holding Pringles.

“Tank hurt his leg. He’s limping, but I think he’s okay. It doesn’t look broken. Maybe just a sprain?” Hot tears streaked down the girl’s cheeks. “When he went after that guy, I thought—” She didn’t finish.

Gloria nodded. “Same.” She motioned to the man laying slumped at her feet. We need to get him inside. Tie him up. There’s zip ties in the garage cabinet above the washing machine. Grab those, will you?”

Holly hurried off as Gloria bent down toward the man. Dark hair, thick eyebrows, a hint of a scar behind his ear. Even incapacitated he oozed strength and power. Fear edged up Gloria’s spine, quickening her pulse. She turned to Emma. “Let’s do this.”

Both women picked up the man once more, dragging him over the threshold and dumping him into an empty kitchen chair. Holly held the container of zip ties out and Gloria fished out a handful, using multiple ties to bind the man’s arms and legs to the chair. “I’m sure he’ll break out of this in minutes.”

“We need John.” Emma slumped across the kitchen table, good arm propping up her head.

“And Raymond. I’m no good at fishing out bullets. I can’t even pull out a splinter.” Gloria pulled the medical backpack out of the closet and fished out alcohol pads, gauze, and an Ace bandage before grabbing a bottle of tequila from the kitchen. She held it to her chest as she turned to Holly. “I need to clean Emma’s wound and then—” She faltered as she turned to the man secured to the chair. “Deal with him. Can you keep Tank and Pringles safe? If they hear Emma cry out or this guy tries to pull something—”

Holly scooped Pringles off the floor. “I get it. They’re dogs. One smell of fear or blood and they’ll freak out.”

“Tank might injure himself even more,” Emma offered.

“I’ll keep them in the bedroom. Holler if you need me.”

Gloria waited until the teenager shut the door again to the bedroom before thumping the bottle onto the table in front of Emma. “Drink.”

“I don’t—”

“Drink it. If you don’t relax at least a little, we’ll have a rush of blood on our hands when I loosen that jacket.”

“Can’t we just leave it until Raymond gets back?”

Gloria swallowed, tongue suddenly thick in her mouth. She refused to acknowledge the risk he might never come back at all. She’d expected him an hour ago, at least. “That wound needs cleaning at least.”

“He’s coming back.” Emma swigged down a glut of tequila, coughing as she set the bottle back on the table.

“A few more of those and you won’t feel Raymond digging around in the wound at all.”

Emma gagged. “I’m tempted to just leave it in there.”

Gloria lifted an eyebrow. “You know better.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I guess you can be a baby about it. It’s not every day you get shot in the arm.”

“I sure as hell hope not.” Emma took another swig of the tequila. “All right. I’m ready.” She stood and her whole body wobbled. It only took a moment for her to fall back into her seat. “And we’re doing it here.”

Gloria smiled. “As good a place as any.” She reached for Emma’s arm, gingerly untying the jacket before loosening it enough to slide down Emma’s arm. Blood soaked the remains of her shirt, dried patches flaking off her skin underneath. No rush of fresh blood, no massive discoloration. Gloria exhaled in relief.

She used a pair of scissors to cut away the tatters of Emma’s shirt before ripping open an alcohol wipe. “This will sting.”

Emma braced herself on the table as Gloria dabbed at the skin surrounding the wound. “Don’t waste time being gentle. We need to find out what he knows.”

Gloria gritted her teeth and pressed the wipe against the wound. Emma jerked, cursing worse than Raymond when he accidentally sliced his hand the summer before.

“Sorry. Raymond will want to irrigate, so I’ll stop for now.” She wrapped the gauze around the wound and followed with the bandage all while Emma sat ghost-white in the chair. Two butterfly clips and a bit of pressure and the bandage held. It wasn’t hospital-grade