Slow Burn: Bleed, Book 6 by Bobby Adair

agree,” Gretchen said.
    Murphy shook his head. Mostly to himself, he muttered, “That’s a mistake.”
    “Shit.” With the bulk of his heavy body already on the gunwale, Jerry pushed with his legs and slithered into the dark lake.
    “Dammit.” Dalhover glared at Murphy.
    Murphy said, “I wasn’t gonna shoot him, Top.”
    Gerald decided that distraction was enough to try to save himself. He rolled over, swept his leg across Dalhover’s ankles and knocked him off his feet.
    Rachel shouted, and Paul stepped back.
    Gerald was on Dalhover in a flash, trying to wrestle the rifle out of Dalhover’s hands. Murphy jumped into the fight.
    Gretchen shouted, “No!”
    Another splash.
    The girl was over the side.
    While moving over to get my hands on the barrel of the rifle at the center of the wrestling match I said, “Let ‘em swim.”
    Murphy hauled back and punched Gerald in the back of the head.
    I got my hands on the end of the barrel, and though I didn’t have control of it, I was able to keep it pointed into the deck as the three struggled.
    It only took another few moments.
    Bleeding from his mouth and nose and drawing his breath in deep gasps, Gerald fell back against the stern, while Dalhover stood up, rifle in hand.
    Murphy stood up, ready to punch Gerald again.
    “Gerald, you didn’t need to do that,” Gretchen said to him.
    Gerald glared back.
    “Oh, my God,” Rachel shouted, “Where’s Jerry?”
    I looked out at the water. I only saw one swimmer.
    “He can’t swim,” Paul said.
    Another one?
    “Where is he?” Gretchen turned around and looked toward the bow.
    I looked around. All of us did, except for Murphy. His job was to keep Gerald in place, and by the look on Murphy’s face, Gerald had better not try anything else.
    “Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” I’d seen enough James Bond movies to know that Jerry was hiding under the boat or something like that. “Turn off the engine.”
    Paul was closest to the helm and did as asked.
    “What are you thinking?” Gretchen asked.
    I pointed at the water along the boat’s hull. “I’ll bet he’s hiding underneath and coming up for breaths.”
    “That’s stupid,” Dalhover told me.
    I asked, “Where is he, then?”
    “Bottom of the lake.” Dalhover wiped some blood away from his mouth and looked down at Gerald in a way that should have given the man cause to worry.
    Gretchen looked up and down the length of the boat. “Let’s check. Paul, you and Rachel go and look over each side of the bow.” She stepped over to the port side. “I’ll take this side. Zed, you take that side. Dalhover, will you look over the stern?”
    Shaking his head, Dalhover leaned over the back of the boat.
    Murphy leaned close to Gerald. “It won’t bother me to shoot you if you decide to get froggy.”
    “Froggy?” Gerald was confused.
    “If you jump,” Murphy explained.
    Not even knowing why, I told Gerald, “Murphy is a comedian.”
    “Nothing back here,” Dalhover announced.
    Rachel said, “Nothing here.”
    “Clear,” said Paul.
    “We’ll keep looking for a few minutes. “I doubt Jerry can hold his breath for long.”
    Gerald said, “He’s not under the boat.”
    “And how do you know that?” Gretchen asked.
    “Because that dude’s crazy.”
    “Yet, you sided with him.”
    Gerald looked at Murphy with plenty of hate in his eyes. “You were going to let these fucks on the island.”
    “Don’t you understand that you’re immune?” Gretchen asked him.
    “Nobody knows that for sure,” Gerald argued. “We might all still get it, and you would have turned us all into monsters.”
    Murphy shot me a look. “Told you, Zed.”
    I huffed and flatly said, “Yeah, you told me. Everybody hates us.”
    Dalhover glanced at me and almost smiled. “If you whiners don’t be quiet about that shit, I’m going to hate you, too.”
    Damn, even he had a sense of humor.
    From the front of the boat, Paul mused, “Ignorance. Nothing ever