RUN! Page 12
‘Where’s Namir?’
‘Who?’
‘That other man. Leopard. And his men.’
A calculating light entered the killer’s eyes. And disappeared just as fast when Zeb unsheathed his knife.
‘Gone. To Erilyn. To stop you from there.’
‘He told you why he was hunting us?’
‘No. He said he wanted the girl.’
That tallies with Enrico’s story.
‘Joachim believed him?’
‘Tavez believes no one,’ Cesar proudly defended his boss. ‘But we, too, wanted you. You won’t get away. You will die. She, too. Eventually.’
Zeb didn’t reply.
He turned his back on the Mexican and picked up the fallen AKs.
He smashed them against trees. Checked that neither Cesar nor the dead shooter had any cell on them.
‘What about me?’ the bound man yelled when he and Sara started walking away.
‘You will die,’ he replied, without breaking a stride.
‘Eventually.’
Chapter Sixty-Two
The burn on Zeb’s hip turned out to be a red, angry stripe from left to right.
It wasn’t deep and, other than mild discomfort, didn’t hinder his movement.
There was a hole in his right trouser leg, just beneath the calf, and one of his shoe heels was missing.
They had stripped Cesar of his shirt, paying no attention to the shooter’s protests.
‘We need it for bandages,’ Sara told the hitter, helpfully. ‘Think of it as the one good deed in your life.’
They stopped when they were beyond his hearing.
The girl wrinkled her nose at the odor coming off the garment, and tore a length of it.
She helped Zeb dress his thigh and shoulder and clean up the welt on his hip.
‘He was right. Tavez will have heard the shots. What do you think he will do?’ her fingers worked deftly as they tightened the bandages.
‘He will be waiting. He will set a trap.’
‘We can avoid that pond. The forest is big enough.’
‘No,’ Zeb shook his head, his face grim. ‘He will just follow us. Attack us from behind.’
‘You have a plan?’
‘Nope.’
* * *
They took their time.
They halted several times: food breaks, water breaks. Sleep breaks.
‘He’ll be under pressure,’ Zeb explained when Sara looked askance at him during their second stop. ‘He will be expecting us to go to the pond promptly. The more we delay, the more impatient he will get.’
‘He will make mistakes.’
‘Yeah.’
It was late afternoon when they smelled the stench.
‘Dead water. Stagnant,’ he whispered.
They couldn’t see the pool yet. The forest had thickened, obscuring their view.
The ground was flat, but beyond, they could see another craggy rise.
The pond seemed to be at the base of the incline.
Waist-high bushes tugged at their clothing as they made their way carefully.
Dead leaves beneath their feet.
They started crawling.
It was slow going, since an HK was in Zeb’s left hand, and his thigh was complaining.
The smell grew stronger, and when Zeb carefully parted the vegetation, they saw the pond: fifty feet across, irregular in shape.
A couple of feet of open ground surrounding it before the forest took over.
Dark, still water.
A dead bird floating on it.
Shadows speckled with sunlight.
No sign of Joachim Tavez or any of his men.
* * *
He motioned at the girl and started moving, circling the water from the left.
‘Are you crazy?’ She grabbed his jacket. ‘He could be anywhere.’
‘I know.’
‘Why are you moving, then?’
‘We need to find a clearing.’
‘Why?’ If looks could kill, he would have been not only dead, but also charred.
‘To set our trap.’
Chapter Sixty-Three
Sara argued once more but kept quiet when Zeb held a finger up.
He resumed his slow progress, passing underneath vegetation where possible, rising and skirting larger growth.
Cesar was right. This place is unapproachable without making noise.
He was sure the cartel boss had heard their arrival.
He will wait, however. He won’t come after us.
He is down to three men. He can’t risk more losses.
There was one spot that looked likely.
About fifteen square feet. Firs and ponderosas surrounding it.
He surveyed it critically. Looked around.
Nope.
Started crawling.
Didn’t miss her eye roll.
Stifled a grin, and continued.
He found a better location at the far end of the pond, almost opposite to where they had arrived.
An open space similarly sized to the first.
In shadow, under the canopy of tall trees.
Dead leaves and sticks under their feet.
There were several fallen trees just beyond, and the pond was a five-minute walk away.
He shouldered the HK and inspected the logs.
A few were too large for his purpose, but there was a smaller one, half-buried in the earth.
He heaved at it and motioned the girl to stay back when she came forward to help.
‘Keep watch.’
She watched, the AK in her hand, her eyes alternating between him and their surroundings.
‘I have never fired a weapon.’
‘They don’t know that.’
‘He could come any minute.’
‘Nope. He will be wondering what we are doing. He will see if he can outwait us.’
He rolled the log to the center of the clearing.
Removed the length of rope from the backpack and looked up.
She gasped when she got his intent.
‘You’re—’
‘Yeah.’
He fastened the length to the fallen tree and tossed the free end to her.
‘Climb.’
* * *
Zeb was making a small fire when heard a twig crack.
He dived away, whirling, drawing his Glock, when two men came into the clearing.
Both carried AKs. Both weapons were pointed at him.
‘Try it. You will die,’ one of them barked.
He’s right.
‘At last,’ Joachim Tavez stepped out from behind them.
He rubbed his hands and looked Zeb up and down.
‘Who are you, gringo?’ he asked, as Zeb got to his feet and tossed his handgun to the ground.
‘The others, too,’ Tavez warned him.
Zeb considered his options.
The cartel men were well spread out.
Sara was behind him, to his left, at the edge of the clearing.
He himself was at a side, under the shade of a giant tree.
‘I won’t kill you,’ Tavez promised. There was no mirth in his eyes. They were flat, hard, and cold. ‘Not right away.’
‘You,’ he turned to the girl. ‘Get over here.’
She didn’t move.
‘You heard me?’ He raised his voice.
‘COME HERE.’
Sara fidgeted. Threw a scared look in Zeb’s direction, but didn’t leave her spot.
One of the shooters swore. He covered her with his weapon.
Strode forward impatiently.
Keeping well away from his fellow hitter’s line of fire.
And tripped over the hidden rope.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Zeb had whittled away a section of it until it held together by mere strands.
He had tied the free end, the one Sara had looped over a branch, to a rock in the center of the clearing and had buried it under leaves.
&nb
sp; The threads snapped when the shooter fell over it.
The free end slipped across the leaves faster than a snake.
A rushing sound from above.
The hitter looked up.
Screamed as he saw the log heading right at him.
Zeb wasn’t standing around to watch.
He dived for his Glock.
Got a hand around it.
His move roused the second shooter.
His AK chattered.
Someone yelled.
Sara shrieked.
Leaves flew around Zeb. Mud splattered him.
He rolled desperately. Got his weapon up.
Snapped two rounds.
Knew they missed.
Settled on his belly, momentarily.
Sight, barrel, and shooter came together for a fraction.
Trigger pull.
The gunman jerked.
Howled.
His AK drooped.
Zeb rolled once more.
Away from the girl, who was darting away into the forest.
Joachim Tavez’s face was red. He was recovering. Shouting.
The shooter on the ground.
Slithering away as the log fell, missing him by mere inches.
The ground shaking and trembling momentarily.
Zeb rose to a crouch.
The fog swept over him.
Fired into shooter number two.
Dropped him.
Turned toward Joachim.
The cartel boss dived to the ground.
Clawing at his waist.
The first shooter was scrambling to his feet.
Zeb snapped a shot at Tavez.
And flew towards hitter number one.
An unexpected move that shocked the hitter, who froze.
Which was what Zeb wanted.
He body-slammed the killer.
Gritted his teeth when the AK crashed into his ribs.
Brought the Glock down on the man’s face, savagely.
Turned him around just as Tavez fired.
Felt the killer stagger.
Whacked the man again.
Shot at Tavez, using the shooter’s body as a shield.
Zeb missed.
The cartel boss didn’t.
However, his rounds slammed into his man.
Zeb dived away from the falling shooter, triggering as fast as he could.
One of his rounds slammed into Tavez’s shoulder, dropping him to the ground.
And then killer number two joined the fight.
He was propped up on his elbow.
His chest bloody.
His eyes raging.
His AK came up.
Zeb shot him, putting him down.
Turned rapidly around to the cartel boss.
The clearing was empty.
Joachim Tavez had escaped.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Zeb could hear crashing in the forest.
Tavez should not get away.
‘Tulip!’ he roared, following the fleeing cartel boss.
‘I am here,’ Sara said, panting as she came from behind a thicket. ‘I saw him. That way,’ she pointed.
Away from the pond.
Toward the rocky slope.
Zeb grabbed her hand.
Reloaded his Glock instinctively.
And upped his pace.
Branches slapped their faces.
Agony raced through him.
Thigh.
He white-boxed the pain.
Stowed away the fury and the rage.
Summoned the calm.
Got his feet to roll on the ground.
Became a panther.
Breathed in and out, through the mouth.
Easily.
Making sure the girl was close behind him.
Ducking around trees, giving their trunks a wide berth to foil Tavez if he sprang out from behind one of them.
But the gang boss was easy to follow.
His panting and thrashing could be heard way ahead of them.
Zeb saw flashes of him.
Fifty yards away, running as fast as he could.
Zeb snapped a shot at him, more to slow Tavez down than to cause any injury.
The cartel man surprised him.
He stopped and took shelter behind a fir.
Fired a long burst at them.
‘Gringo.’
Zeb heard him swear as he grabbed the girl and flung her to the ground, rounds peppering the air above them.
‘I am not finished. I will still kill you. I will drink your blood.’
He laughed.
Zeb risked a look.
Tavez had resumed running.
Zeb got to his feet. Hauled Sara up.
Checked her swiftly for injuries.
Nothing apparent.
Continued the chase.
* * *
The trees started thinning out.
Joachim Tavez, knowing that he would be exposed soon, moved faster.
‘Don’t wait for me,’ Sara gasped. ‘Get after him.’
Zeb didn’t.
Because protecting her was more important.
The distance between them and the gang boss widened.
They caught glimpses of him as he started ascending the slope.
Tavez was wily. Vicious. And smart.
That showed when he crouched behind a boulder.
And heaved it down at them.
The rock wasn’t large.
Probably two or three feet in diameter.
However, it started gathering speed as it jumped and bounced alarmingly on the uneven surface.
Zeb and the girl lost precious seconds in getting out of its way.
By when, the distance between Tavez and them had widened to a hundred yards.
The cartel boss topped the rise.
Looked back at them.
Fired three rounds that whistled into the air and got lost in the open.
Tavez laughed, swore, and disappeared over the top.
Careful, Zeb warned himself.
He cut a wide loop to the left. They climbed carefully, as stealthily as they could, because they didn’t know what lay beyond the rise.
Tavez could be lying in wait.
Zeb slowed as he neared the rise.
His Glock out, his eyes and ears alert.
His body shielding Sara.
He bent double and crossed the ridge in a flash.
Loose gravel. Round stones. Smooth slope.
Descending two hundred yards to a stream.
No sign of Tavez.
Zeb’s foot slipped.
He started falling.
‘Stay back,’ he yelled at Sara as he lost his balance.
A shadow streaked across the slope.
‘Watch out!’
Joachim Tavez pounced on him.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Zeb turned just in time to block the descending knife.
He jabbed his left forearm up to stop Tavez’s killing blow.
The Mexican was growling and swearing. A continual stream of words pouring out of his mouth, his eyes narrowed in concentration, and dark with hate.
He clubbed with his free hand, pounding Zeb on his face. On his neck. Wherever he could.
Fierce, punishing blows that shook Zeb to the core. He fell under the weight of the attack.
Started sliding.
Tavez on top of him. Lips parted, sweating pouring down on him. The knife arm still bearing down, Zeb still warding it off.
The cartel boss reared suddenly. He jammed his knee into the fallen man’s thigh.
Zeb groaned aloud as his vision turned dark. The knee was crushing the bullet wound. Ripping open the slowly healing flesh.
He tried to heave off the attacker.
The Mexican laughed. He had found a weakness.
He yanked the knife hand away and plunged it straight at the thigh.
Zeb clawed, found a large stone, and clubbed it at his assailant.
; Tavez jumped back. Zeb got to his feet shakily.
And collapsed when the gang boss lunged at him and brought him down.
The cartel leader was on his chest, pinning him down, his heels to each side of Zeb’s body.
The rifles on his back slid smoothly on the loose gravel, like a lubricant.
The Mexican’s blows were accelerating his descent.
Zeb stopped thinking when the knife headed to his eyes.
He smashed Tavez’s neck.
The Mexican laughed.
The blade didn’t waver. One inch away.
At the last minute, Zeb shoved with all his strength and turned his head away.
The knife struck rock. Metal clanged.
Tavez didn’t pull away for another strike. He jabbed the hilt in Zeb’s neck.
Right against a nerve.
Zeb yelled. Struck.
A glancing blow that caught the Mexican’s nose. Split it. Blood started pouring down.
The gangster screamed.
He leaned back and struck with his knife.
Moved one knee to pin the operative’s right hand.
The other leg to crash into the wounded thigh.
Zeb sucked air frantically. Trying to get oxygen to sweep away the blackness engulfing him.
Take the blow.
He steeled himself. Cried out when steel sank into his left shoulder.
Tavez was taken aback. He was expecting attack. Resistance.
For a fraction of a second his thrusting and pounding stopped.
Zeb roared. Jerked his legs up. Slammed his knees into the Mexican’s back.
Tavez fell forward.
Zeb’s right fist connected with his face.
A second blow smashed into the soft flesh just beneath the collarbone.
Tavez bellowed. Tried to release the knife for another thrust.
Zeb clamped his wrist. Squeezed with all his strength until the cartel man sobbed and released the knife.
But the Mexican didn’t give up. He rained punishing blows on Zeb.
The operative retaliated, his right fist moving metronomically, landing on the man on top, wherever there was an opening.
A rib cracked.
Mine. The shrieking pain confirmed that.
His vision was fading.
But he didn’t let up.
Brought up his left arm, even though it was bloody and weakened. Smashed it against Tavez’s temple.