فصل 12 - بخش 12

12

Howie was the first out of the SUV. He stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the fallen sign reading SOUVENIRS AND AUTHENTIC INDIAN CRAFTS. Alec and Yune exited the backseat on the driver’s side. Ralph got out of the shotgun seat to open the rear door for Holly, who was having trouble with the handle. As he did this, something lying on the cracked pavement caught his eye.

‘Damn,’ he said. ‘Look at that.’

‘What is it?’ Holly asked as he bent down. ‘What, what?’

‘I think it’s an arrowhe—’

A gunshot rang out, the almost liquid whipcrack of a high-powered rifle. Ralph felt the passage of the slug, which meant it had missed the top of his head by no more than an inch or two. The SUV’s passenger side mirror shattered and flew away, hitting the cracked asphalt and tumbling across it in a series of brilliant flashes.

‘Gun!’ Ralph shouted, grabbing Holly around the shoulders and dragging her to her knees. ‘Gun, gun, gun!’

Howie looked around at him. His expression was both startled and bemused. ‘Say what? Did you—’

The second shot came, and the top of Howie Gold’s head disappeared. For a moment he stood where he was, blood coursing down his cheeks and brow. Then he toppled. Alec ran toward him and the third shot came, throwing Alec back against the hood of the SUV. Blood burst through his shirt above the belt line. Yune started toward him. There was a fourth shot. Ralph saw it tear away the side of Alec’s neck, and then Howie’s investigator dropped out of sight behind the car.

‘Get down!’ Ralph shouted at Yune. ‘Get down, he’s up on that bluff!’

Yune dropped to his knees and scrambled. Three more shots came in rapid succession. One of the SUV’s tires began to hiss. The windshield cracked into a milk-glaze and sagged in around a hole above the steering wheel. The third shot punched through the rear quarter-panel on the driver’s side and blew an exit hole as big as a tennis ball on the passenger side, close to where Ralph and Yune now crouched, flanking Holly. There was a pause, then another fusillade: four shots this time. The rear windows broke, spraying nuggets of safety glass. Another of those ragged holes appeared in the rear deck.

‘We can’t stay here,’ Holly said. She sounded perfectly calm. ‘Even if he doesn’t hit us, he’ll hit the gas tank.’

‘She’s right,’ Yune said. ‘Alec and Gold, what do you think? Any chance?’

‘No,’ Ralph said. ‘They’re—’

Another of those liquid whipcracks. They all flinched, and another tire began to hiss.

‘They’re gone,’ Ralph finished. ‘We have to run for that souvenir shop. You two go first. I’ll cover you.’

‘I’ll do the covering,’ Yune said. ‘You and Holly do the running.’

A scream came from the shooter’s position. Of pain or rage, Ralph couldn’t tell.

Yune stood up, legs spread, pistol held in both hands, and began to fire spaced shots at the top of the knoll. ‘Go!’ he shouted. ‘Right now! Go, go, go!’

Ralph stood up. Holly stood up beside him. As on the day when Terry Maitland was shot, it seemed to Ralph that he could see everything. His arm was around Holly’s waist. There was a bird circling in the sky, wings outstretched. The tires were hissing. The SUV was settling on the driver’s side. At the top of the knoll he could see a stuttery, moving flash that had to be the scope of the bastard’s rifle. Ralph had no idea why it was moving around like that and didn’t care. There was a second scream, then a third, the last one almost a shriek. Holly grabbed Yune’s arm and jerked him. He gave her an amazed look, like a man rudely yanked out of a dream, and Ralph knew he had been ready to die. Expected to die. The three of them sprinted for the shelter of the gift shop, and although it had to be less than two hundred feet from the mortally wounded SUV, they seemed to be running in slow motion, like a trio of best friends at the end of some stupid romantic comedy. Only in those movies, no one ran past the mangled bodies of two men who had been alive and healthy only ninety seconds before. In those movies, no one stepped in a puddle of fresh blood and left bright red tracks behind. Another shot rang out, and Yune shouted.

‘I’m hit! Fucker hit me!’ He went down.