RUN! Page 11

Triggered rapidly.

  Two shots into the left body mass, two more into the right.

  Heard their agonized screams.

  Saw them thrashing.

  He didn’t move.

  No other fighters appeared on the skyline.

  He waited, then made an instinctive decision.

  He descended to the valley.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Zeb raced down, swerving randomly to throw off any shooters.

  No rounds came his way.

  He was nearing the shooter on the right when … they aren’t down!

  Both fallen men moved suddenly, rolling onto their backs.

  Zeb couldn’t stop his forward motion.

  Ten feet separated him from the closest killer.

  Fifteen from the second.

  Time slowed.

  He heard one of them grunt as he brought his rifle up.

  The other, the more distant one, was quicker.

  He triggered.

  A round flew into the sky harmlessly.

  Zeb flung himself to his left.

  His Glock came up.

  A snapped shot before he landed.

  The nearest hitter jerked.

  Zeb fell on his left shoulder.

  The Glock didn’t waver.

  It was the middle of a geometric line starting from Zeb’s eyes and ending at the second killer’s body mass.

  Trigger pull.

  Turn.

  Another shot at the first.

  Rounds whistling around him. One grazing his cheek.

  He fired twice more.

  Someone groaned.

  No return fire.

  A body twitched.

  Zeb twisted to his right.

  Got to his feet.

  Zigged to the left.

  Took two steps forward.

  Zagged.

  Shooter close to him twitched. His hand tried to lift his rifle.

  Zeb shot him.

  Went to the second man, who was on his back.

  His eyes blinking slowly.

  His chest a mass of wetness.

  Zeb kicked away his weapon.

  Kneeled next to him.

  Put his Glock to his temple.

  ‘Where are the others?’

  Movement behind him.

  Zeb sprang away, turning in mid-flight, gun coming up.

  It was Sara Ashland.

  ‘Ma’am, that’s a good way to get killed,’ he gasped, sliding on gravel.

  ‘Did he say anything?’

  ‘It’s best you move away.’

  Zeb didn’t want her to see the man die, but the girl didn’t budge.

  She sat next to him.

  ‘Where is Tavez?’

  ‘Go away,’ his voice flat, hard.

  ‘I have seen dead men. Dying people.’

  ‘Go.’

  She rose in a huff and walked away. Her rigid back showing her displeasure.

  ‘Is Tavez coming?’ he asked in Spanish.

  ‘No …’ the hitter sighed, blinking slowly. ‘Other side.’

  ‘Other side of the hill? Which hill?’

  The cartel man nodded jerkily and moaned when Zeb pointed to the slope they had come down.

  ‘Tavez went ahead.’

  Another nod.

  It struck Zeb.

  ‘If you returned alive, we would be dead. If not, Tavez would be waiting?’

  ‘Yessss.’

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Zeb sat with the shooter till he stopped breathing. Even one who had tried to kill him didn’t need to die alone.

  ‘Are more coming?’ Sara Ashland asked him sharply.

  ‘No. They went ahead. They’ll be waiting once we get out of the valley.’

  ‘We’ve got to go.’ She plucked his sleeve urgently. ‘Find a different route.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’ Her voice rose.

  ‘That’s what he’ll be expecting. For all we know, he has divided his men. Some on that hill, others with him. They can trap us.’

  ‘We do nothing?’

  ‘We wait right here.’ He started climbing, back to the hollow they had occupied.

  ‘He’ll come in the night,’ she hissed in anger.

  ‘No, ma’am. Tavez is down to six men. He knows his killers failed. He will not risk another attempt. Not in the valley. And not in the dark.’

  ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘I don’t know about you, ma’am. But I intend to sleep.’

  * * *

  His eyes flew open at five am on Friday. Blue skies high above.

  Clouds going about their way, lazily.

  An orange glow to the east.

  They had survived another night.

  He didn’t move, thinking about their enemies.

  Joachim Tavez with four men.

  Ten terrorists, somewhere far ahead.

  Why did Namir go to Erilyn? Or in that direction?

  He knows we are heading that way, he answered himself.

  Yeah, but the closer he gets to town, the higher the risk for him.

  He pondered it for several moments and then gave up, with an impatient shake of his head.

  Who knew how terrorists thought?

  There’s something else. Something I am not getting.

  He stretched and rose.

  Dragged the bodies away and hid them as best he could, under a bush.

  Washed his face and lit a small fire.

  He boiled water and was brewing coffee when she woke up.

  ‘Dad?’ she called and sat up and yawned.

  Her eyes fell on him.

  Her face fell as reality hit.

  He thrust a cup at her.

  ‘We move at six.’

  * * *

  He led them down the valley, aware that she was searching for the dead men.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said softly when they were at the bottom.

  ‘For not letting me see,’ she made a face as if he should know why, when he quirked an eyebrow.

  ‘We’re going up there?’ She kept pace when he started climbing the other slope.

  He nodded his head.

  ‘Just as easy to die on another hill.’

  Teenager-with-attitude was back.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  They didn’t die on the incline. They didn’t even meet any gunmen.

  Just means Tavez is further ahead. Waiting for us.

  As they neared the top, he dropped to the ground and started crawling.

  Because there was nothing to protect them on the summit, just a rounding of the ground, and then the descent began.

  He scoped the downhill slope.

  More trees this side, for which he was thankful.

  But they thinned when they reached the flats.

  ‘We’ll walk in the trees. The thickest part, over there,’ he pointed. ‘Follow the line around the side of the hill. Sprint when we reach that grassy land at the front. Until we get into the forest.’

  She wet her lips and followed his arm.

  ‘We’re in the right direction? To Erilyn?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. Though we have lost time.’

  She started rising.

  He grabbed her leg.

  ‘Crawl, ma’am. We are on the downhill. We’ll be exposed against the skyline.’

  Going down was hard.

  They slipped on loose gravel, their weapons making the descent hard.

  She didn’t whine.

  Not even when she banged her head against a rock after losing grip.

  He caught hold of her, steadied her, and they resumed.

  We would have been sitting ducks if Tavez had showed up.

  He got up cautiously, using tree trunks to shield him.

  Listened to the forest for any movement.

  Something rattled in the bushes.

  His Glock came out in a flash.

  A rattlesnake slithered out, its forked tongue darting.

  They stood motionless while it w
riggled away behind them and melted into the undergrowth.

  * * *

  ‘I had never seen a snake before coming to America.’ Sara unscrewed a water canteen and drank. ‘I couldn’t stop screaming when I saw my first one. Near our home. Dad took me camping whenever he could. I got used to wildlife. Now …’

  She jammed the container on her hip and marched ahead.

  He didn’t know what to say. He had never been a conversationalist.

  I was once. When I had a wife. A child.

  ‘Slow, ma’am. The hills might have eyes,’ he cautioned her.

  She tossed her head, but reduced her pace.

  He directed her a few times, because the slope wasn’t a straight line down.

  It undulated. There were hollows and small rises.

  They chose a depression and cut a trail through its thickest growth.

  Not stopping, not flagging, because he wanted to cover as many miles as possible that day, get as close to the town as they could.

  She’ll be safe tomorrow. When we reach Erilyn.

  Maybe he, too, was exhausted. Or was careless.

  Because he didn’t hear anything to warn him.

  He didn’t register a footfall or any movement around them before he felt the round whiz past his forehead.

  It thudded into a tree trunk—bark flying and smacking into his face.

  Instinct and training took over.

  He was moving even before he knew what was happening.

  His left hand slammed into her back.

  Sent her sprawling ahead.

  While he leaped behind.

  Both of them falling.

  Just as more rounds struck.

  Throwing up soil and stones.

  Where he had been just a moment ago.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Zeb looked behind him.

  No shooter in sight. Not yet.

  He looked below, his vision restricted by the hollow.

  The downhill slope extended for another hundred yards below them.

  He couldn’t hear any footsteps in that direction.

  The rifle opened up again and raked the top of their hollow.

  He saw Sara cover, trying to make herself smaller.

  She was just five feet away.

  Looking back at him, scared.

  Move forward, he mouthed. Get away from me.

  She inched ahead.

  He wriggled back.

  And stopped when a round pierced through the soil and nearly creased his shoulder.

  No cover behind me.

  The hollow ends.

  The depression was small.

  Maybe a foot and a half deep.

  Just enough to protect their bodies.

  The shooter had all the advantages.

  He could keep on firing until the soil broke.

  He could then pick them off.

  Zeb lunged up when the rifle stopped to snatch a look.

  Ducked back.

  Trees. No hitter in the open.

  However, behind one fir a barrel had been sticking out.

  About ten feet away.

  Close. Very close. Couldn’t see another shooter.

  Only one rifle firing at us.

  He shifted slightly to ease the hard press of the rifles on his back.

  Got an idea.

  Holstered the Glock that had leaped into his hand when he was diving.

  Reached behind carefully.

  Shrank when a round sang into the air, over his body.

  Dug himself deeper into the ground and reached back again.

  Grabbed one HK and twisted it up and around till he could hold it.

  ‘Gringo.’

  He froze.

  ‘I know you are there.’ The voice sounded cheerful. English with a Mexican accent.

  ‘We found Julio. He was alive. Joachim killed him. He has no use for an injured man.’

  He spat and let loose another volley, raining mud and stones on Zeb.

  ‘We also found Torres. And Loya. Both were my friends.’

  ‘I have time, gringo,’ he chuckled. ‘Where you are hiding. That won’t hide you forever. Then I will kill you. And that girl …’ He smacked his lips loudly.

  ‘I will play with her.’

  ‘Then I will give her to Joachim.’

  Zeb saw Sara shiver and crawl forward another foot.

  A thought nagged him.

  This dude didn’t need to announce his intention.

  He could have kept firing and our cover would have collapsed.

  He’s sounding confident.

  He’s got backup?

  A stick cracked.

  He twisted his head.

  Cold washed over him when he saw a second shooter come into view.

  Below them.

  Six or seven feet away.

  AK casually but firmly gripped.

  Heading towards Sara.

  Chapter Sixty

  The sight triggered muscles that powered Zeb to explosive action.

  He dug his feet into the hard ground.

  Sprang out of the cover, his core muscles, calves and thighs pistoning him out like an arrow.

  Body in a straight line.

  Presenting the smallest possible target to the shooter.

  Flying toward the second attacker.

  Zeb’s HK opened up as he fired at the shooter behind the tree, pinning him down with two bursts.

  The gunman opened up blindly from behind his tree.

  A round burned Zeb’s hip.

  Another whistled past his neck.

  Something tugged at his trouser leg, and his shoe felt as it if it had been kicked.

  He blocked everything out, keeping only the positions of the hitters in his mind.

  His rifle swiveled in his hand.

  He fired it blindly over his head.

  Toward the second man.

  Into whom he crashed seconds later, both of them going down and into another hollow.

  Out of sight of the first shooter.

  He turned sideways and smashed the butt of the HK in the killer’s face.

  Followed up with a second blow to the throat.

  A third, savage blow to the head.

  The hitter groaned.

  Silence fell in the forest.

  The tree shooter fired savagely, blindly raking the ground with long bursts.

  I hope Sara keeps her head down.

  Zeb couldn’t see her.

  But knew where she was.

  To his left. In the front.

  Just after the depression they had sheltered in.

  She seemed to read his mind.

  Her hand rose for a second.

  Her fingers waggled.

  Then disappeared.

  The man beneath him stirred.

  Zeb slipped off him.

  Jammed the barrel against his neck.

  ‘Cesar,’ the tree shooter called out.

  Cesar opened his eyes.

  Blinked.

  Realization flooded him when Zeb jabbed him.

  I got him, Zeb mouthed, and his finger tightened on the trigger.

  Cesar swallowed. Sweat beaded his forehead.

  ‘I got him,’ he croaked.

  ‘You what?’

  ‘I got him,’ he yelled, more confidently. ‘In the chest. He is not moving.’

  Zeb nodded approvingly.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course, I am sure, you fool.’ Cesar embellished. ‘The girl is hiding. A few feet away.’

  ‘Get her then.’

  ‘I can’t. He shot me in the leg. Grab her. Then help me.’

  Silence.

  ‘All right.’

  Zeb reared up just as the tree shooter stepped out.

  He fired.

  His rounds went wide.

  He corrected just as the shooter dived to the ground, bringing his AK up.

  He was too late.

  Zeb’s burst of fire flung his body back and took him out
of the fight.

  Cesar moved, slithering away.

  Zeb was expecting it.

  He twisted and struck like a snake, the full weight of his HK catching the hitter flush in the mouth, knocking him out.

  Zeb took several moments to get his breath back.

  A few seconds of action had felt like an hour.

  He got to his feet and found Sara regarding him quizzically.

  ‘Just how many lives do you have?’

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Zeb hauled Cesar up and, with Sara’s help, bound him to a tree.

  The hitter came to, slowly, groaning, his eyes flying open when he found he couldn’t move.

  He strained his bonds and twisted as he tried to free himself.

  He started cursing when Zeb walked to him. Spat and missed.

  Zeb blocked the girl’s view with his body and dug a thumb into Cesar’s thigh.

  He stiffened, turned white, and trembled.

  Sweat popped on his face. His mouth opened but no sound came.

  He gasped and slumped when Zeb released him.

  ‘Where is he?’ Zeb asked him.

  Cesar groaned.

  Zeb raised his hand.

  The shooter flinched.

  ‘Pool,’ he mumbled.

  ‘What pool?’

  ‘He will kill you,’ the captive snarled. ‘Slowly. He will share that girl with—’

  He screamed when Zeb pressed the nerve again.

  ‘I’ll feed you to the vultures if you don’t tell me.’

  Cesar shrank when he saw the cold, implacable face in front of him. Read something swirling in the hard, brown eyes.

  ‘There’s a large pool. Almost a lake,’ he said, jerking his shoulder in the direction of Erilyn. ‘Joachim said he will wait there. Until noon today.’

  ‘Describe it. Where exactly is it?’

  The Mexican gave halting answers.

  The cartel knew the forest well. They had to, if they were going to use it to grow their pot.

  The pond was five miles away. Beyond the valley, in wilderness. In the same direction Zeb had been heading to.

  ‘What’s so special about it?’

  ‘Trees and rocks,’ the shooter said wearily. ‘Well protected. No one can go to it without making a sound.’

  His eyes grew mean. ‘I am sure he heard the shots. He will know you are coming.’

  ‘Why? It could be you, not us.’

  Cesar shook his head knowingly. ‘We were to fire in the air. Three long bursts. If we killed you.’