by Thomas Perry
Jane stepped closer and stared at Rita for a moment, studying her closely. Rita held her head high to show that she was not going to give in this time. Without warning, Jane’s right arm shot out, the heel of her hand struck Rita’s shoulder and spun her body around, and in the same motion snaked over Rita’s right shoulder and clutched her left armpit.
Rita gasped, but the arm wouldn’t let her lungs inflate enough to let air out in a cry. In a second she had been jerked backward out the door and onto the porch.
Bernie stepped out and locked the door behind him, and Jane released her grip on Rita.
Rita whispered, “Why—”
But Jane hissed, “Because I don’t have time to be persuasive. Get across this open ground as quickly as you can. After that, there’s some cover.”
They walked rapidly, their feet crunching on the dry stubble that surrounded the house. The stars were beginning to show in the black sky, but at least the moon wasn’t bright. Jane’s major worry was Bernie. Rita was a healthy teenager who could walk all night, but Jane sensed that Bernie would be in trouble. He was a bent-over silhouette in the darkness, and his breathing began to sound labored when they were only halfway across the open ground. It occurred to her that he might not be capable of walking the four or five miles to town.
Just as Jane reached the end of the open field, her ears picked up a faint car noise. She hurried on, still listening. The sound was regular and even, but it began to seem a pitch lower than the engine of the usual car. She turned and looked toward the road.
Around the curve she could see the dark shape of a car crawling along with its lights off. When it reached a spot on the far side of the house where the bushes shielded it from the front windows, it stopped. Around the bend came a second car, then a third and a fourth. One by one, they pulled onto the shoulder of the road and stopped.
Jane turned toward Rita and saw that she was staring, wide-eyed, at the cars. Jane pushed her forward, then lingered to keep Bernie moving. She looked over her shoulder, then saw the first two doors open up, and men begin to climb out.
“Is that what you were expecting to see?” she whispered.
“Roughly,” said Bernie. “What now?”
“Let yourself get scared,” she said. “It helps you move faster.”
28
As soon as Jane had hurried the others past the blind, she paused again to look back. There were now several silhouettes making their way toward the doors of the house. Some of them walked with one arm held straight toward the ground, as though they were carrying pistols. Then she saw movement in the foliage near the parked cars and felt a growing alarm. There were men there too, moving into the brush carrying long-barreled weapons. She tried to count them, but the darkness and the bushes near the road made them difficult to make out. One would be visible, but then she would lose sight of him. She would see another movement, but not be sure whether it was a man or the wind.
Finally she saw two men carrying rifles step out of the brush behind the house. When she saw them break into a trot toward the low stubble she had just crossed, she sucked in a breath. They were heading toward the blind.
She spun and trotted to catch up with Rita and Bernie. “We’ve got to get away from here.”
“What does it look like we’re doing?” asked Bernie. “Figure eights?”
She took him by the hand and pulled him along. “Once we’re away from the blind, we’ll be behind them.”
Bernie moved more quickly, but Jane could tell that the additional effort was costing him. He was beyond attempting to disguise his heavy breathing now. His jaw hung slack to keep his mouth open, and his breath came out in huffs. His feet seemed to slap the ground, not push off it. Jane knew he was going to have to rest soon, and for the next hundred yards she searched her memory of the trail for places where they could hide. As the minutes went by, she gradually conceded to herself that he wasn’t going to make it.
She stopped and held Rita’s arm. “Here,” she said. “You take this.” She held out the shotgun, and Rita accepted it, doubtfully.
Jane squatted. “Help Bernie up on my back.”
Bernie was horrified. “What?” He gasped. “You can’t carry me.”
“I can try,” said Jane.
“I’m not dead yet,” he puffed. It took a moment for him to get enough breath to say, “I can walk.”
“Not fast enough. Do it.” Jane’s voice was quiet, but Rita could hear in it something hard that reminded her this wasn’t a game. She guided Bernie up behind Jane. Bernie brought his arms around Jane’s neck and clasped his hands, and Jane slipped her arms under Bernie’s knees. Rita pushed Bernie upward to help Jane straighten.
Jane said to Rita, “You lead the way, and I’ll follow. Go as fast as you can without tripping or backtracking, and I’ll try to keep you in sight.”
Jane took a last look back. The two men with rifles were nearly across the burned stubble. As soon as they reached their post at the blind and got their rifles comfortably sighted in, she knew, they would give some kind of signal for the assault to begin.
Jane set off again, making her way through the dry chaparral and spiky plants, threading between rocks and along gravelly inclines, straining to see Rita’s shape ahead of her. She could feel the effect of the extra weight on her feet, calves, and knees, but if she kept her hands clasped at her belly and her back straight, she found she could move at a good walking pace.
In ten minutes, her shoulders and neck were tight and painful, and when she heard hard, sharp gasps, they were her own. The sweat had begun to run down into her eyes and sting them, then fall in drops from her nose and chin.
When Jane reached the dry arroyo, Rita was waiting for her, staring at her in horror. Jane stopped, bent her knees, and let Bernie down. Rita whispered, “How can you do that?”
Jane sank to the ground and lay there. She answered in a strained and winded voice, “I kept reminding myself of what would happen if I didn’t.” After a minute, her voice was stronger. “How do you feel now, Bernie?”
“Better.”
“Good,” said Jane. “Rita, give me the shotgun. I’ll go ahead for a bit. Walk with Bernie at his pace. If there’s a problem, run ahead and get me. Don’t call out.”
“Okay,” said Rita.
Jane got to her feet. “Watch your step here. There’s a slope.” She went down into the arroyo and came up on the other side, then slowly increased her speed to a trot.
Far behind, Jane heard the sound of glass breaking, then a loud creak and bang, as though the front door had just burst inward, the dead bolt wrenching the frame off with it. She kept moving until she thought she heard distant shouts. She glanced over her shoulder.
She could see Bernie and Rita walking toward her. Bernie had his head down, but he seemed to be moving steadily. It looked as though Rita was leaning close to his ear, whispering to him. But far behind them, the lights were going on in the house.
Jane set off again, watching the path ahead and trying to pick out easy, smooth stretches where the others could move quickly. She held the shotgun close to her chest, with her left hand on the foregrip and the right on the stock just behind the trigger guard. A few minutes later, she heard car doors slam, and an engine turn over and start. She turned to see one of the cars pull up the long driveway to stop beside the lighted rectangle of the kitchen door. A man appeared in the doorway, blocking some of the light, then moved and was replaced by another. They appeared to be carrying bulky objects. Were they loading the computers into the car?
Jane hesitated, feeling the impulse to take the disk drives out of her pockets and bury them in the dirt, but resisted. She knew that she couldn’t take the time to do it, and she had a fear that the men would come out here in the daylight and be able to see the hiding place that had seemed invisible to her in the darkness. She could hear Bernie’s and Rita’s footsteps much closer to her now, so she set off again. She heard Bernie stumble, but when she took a step back toward him, sh
e saw he was already coming ahead again, with Rita’s hand on his arm.
Jane went on, and after a time she began to see configurations of plants and rocks that she didn’t quite dare feel sure about, but then she saw distant lights, and she knew that they were approaching Apodaca Hill Road. She stopped and turned back.
She could see the faces of Rita and Bernie. Bernie’s forehead was wet with sweat, and his neck and cheeks had a darker shade, which she knew would be red in the light. She moved closer to look at him.
Bernie saw that she was staring at him, and he rasped, “What are you looking at?”
Jane said, “Sit down and rest.” She turned away from them and crept closer to the edge of Apodaca Hill Road. She went to her belly and slithered forward a few more feet to stop between thick bushes, then peered up the road. It was empty highway as far as she could see. She looked down the road in the other direction. She could see a car parked a few hundred feet away, on the other side of the intersection with Canyon Road. The night was too dark and the car too far away for her to be certain. She couldn’t see people inside, but why else would anyone park there, where there was no building?
She thought about the men at the house, and tried to reproduce their thoughts in sequence. When they had discovered that the house was empty, and the car was in the garage, they had guessed that the occupants had left on foot. It would have been reasonable to assume that they would head for the city, and to get there, they would have to cross this road.
A big truck appeared on the highway to her left, and Jane pushed her face down into the dirt to be sure its headlights fell on her hair rather than her skin. As soon as she felt the sudden gust of wind from its passing, she lifted her head to watch it go on down the road. When it drew near the parked car, its headlights shone on the windshield and illuminated the heads of four men inside.
Jane began to ease herself backward away from the road, but when she turned to head back, she saw more headlights, this time coming along Canyon Road from the direction of the house. The car appeared, turned right, and drove up to the car that was parked on Apodaca Hill Road, and paused for a moment beside it. Then the car turned around and went back along Canyon Road toward the house. As it turned, she could see heads in the back seat as well as the front.
Jane pondered for a moment. That was eight men so far. They had one car waiting here at the cutoff, and one car driving up and down the road searching. She had begun to move again when she heard another car. She stopped and watched it follow the same routine. When it came to Apodaca Hill Road it paused beside the parked car, turned around and went back out Canyon Road. This one had only two men in it. She waited, and then the fourth car appeared. As it turned, she saw that this one carried two men also.
The empty seats in the last two cars worried her. There could be as many as four men coming on foot across country the way she and Rita and Bernie had. She knew that trying to cross the road in front of the cutoff car would be like jumping into a grave, and it seemed that going back would be no better.
Jane crawled back and lay down beside Bernie in the weeds. “There’s a cutoff car with four men in it just down the road, facing this way. The other three cars are driving up and down Canyon Road, one after another.”
“Could we stay here and wait them out?” asked Bernie.
“Some of the seats in the cars are empty,” said Jane. “I think there might be men following us from the house on foot.”
Bernie held out his hand. “Give me the shotgun.”
“What for?”
“I’ll go down to the cutoff car, blow the windshield out on the driver’s side. It’ll take them a minute to get over it, and another minute to haul him out of the way so they can drive. By then we could all be in town.”
Jane looked at him, trying to make out his features in the darkness. “Tell me, Bernie. Have you done this kind of thing before?”
“Well, no,” said Bernie. “But anybody can see it’s the sensible thing to do, and anything I get on my conscience now, I’m not going to be burdened with it for long.”
“I don’t think so,” said Jane.
“Why not?”
“Too much noise,” said Jane. “I’d rather have the rest of them searching the road and the brush back there than up here in our faces.”
“When Frank Delfina is taking the skin off your back with a lemon peeler, I hope you remember that I offered,” he snapped. “So what’s your idea?”
“Figure out what they know, and make it not true anymore.”
“Christ,” he muttered. “What do they know?”
“It looks as though they’re sure we’re here, south of Canyon Road, and the cars going back and forth will keep us here. They just have to wait until the men on foot catch up or it gets light enough to see us.”
“How do you know that?”
“The cutoff car is facing this way on the other side of the intersection. All the men are still in their seats, facing this way. If they thought there was a chance we were on the other side, one or two would be out of the car, looking in that direction. They’re not. So that’s where we go.”
“Ever hear of a rearview mirror?”
Jane patted his shoulder and stood. “No plan is perfect.”
Bernie raised himself painfully and set off. Rita moved close and put her hand on his arm, but he removed it. “I’ve had plenty of time to rest,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”
Rita whispered, “I’m not sure I will.” Jane was intrigued. She waited to see whether Bernie would overlook the lie and accept the help.
Bernie set Rita’s hand on his arm and said, “That’s okay, then.”
Jane moved ahead, then angled away from Apodaca Hill Road so they would meet Canyon Road five hundred feet from the intersection. When she was fifty feet from Canyon Road, she stopped in the thick brush, sat down, and waited.
“What are you waiting for?” asked Bernie.
“The cars. I want to know where they are.”
The first car’s headlights appeared to their right a few seconds later, and they lay down to stay out of sight. Jane could see four men in the car. When it had passed and turned to come back, the second car with two men in it came by, then the third. Just after it had passed, Jane tapped Bernie’s shoulder. “You first. Get across the road and keep moving. Bear left toward the other road. Don’t stop until you’re there, then stay out of sight until we catch up.”
Jane lifted the shotgun to her shoulder and waited while Bernie hurried across the road and disappeared into the brush on the other side. “Now you.”
Rita stood and stepped onto the road. She had taken two steps when she seemed to realize that something was wrong. She stopped, and turned her head to the left.
Jane could see that Rita’s features were becoming clearer, brighter, as the distant glow of headlights came closer. Jane glanced in that direction. The car that had been parked on Apodaca Hill Road had come around the corner, and it was moving up Canyon Road toward them.
Jane looked at Rita again. She stared into the bright light as though she were considering waiting for it. Jane saw her chest expand and contract in quick little half breaths: she was going to try to trade her life for Jane’s and Bernie’s.
“Run!” Jane hissed.
Rita seemed like a sleepwalker awakened. She looked around her anxiously, then decided. She ran back to crouch in the brush beside Jane.
Jane lay still and watched the lights grow brighter until they illuminated the dust above the road and made the air glow. As the car coasted to a stop in front of her, Jane pumped the foregrip of the shotgun to bring a shell into the chamber, and pushed off the safety with her finger.
The passenger door swung open and the two men in the back seat got out. They walked to the edge of the road and looked in the general direction of Jane and Rita, but to Jane it looked as though their heads were both held too high. They were looking into the distance. She remained still and waited.
The two men moved a few pac
es to the front of the car, craning their necks to see if the headlights revealed anything in the dark fields ahead. She could see them more clearly now with the lighted road beyond them, craning their necks and sidestepping to stare at the field. One man pulled a gun out of his belt at the small of his back and held it at his thigh.
Jane slowly raised the shotgun and gripped it tightly against her shoulder to fight the recoil. She looked down the groove along the top of the receiver, held the bead in the center, and let it settle on the man with the gun. He would be the first, then his companion, before they could dive out of the light. If the driver had the presence of mind to accelerate away, she would put a shot through the back window on his side, and one on the other side before she ran.
The man with the gun raised his free hand above his head and made a quick circular motion. The taillights of the car went dim as the driver took his foot off the brake. Jane lowered the shotgun, pulled Rita to the ground with her and held her there. “Don’t move.”
The driver pulled to the wrong side of the road and swung the car in a tight half circle, the left tires bumping on the shoulder as the headlights swept across empty brush, over Jane and Rita’s hiding place, then settled on the road again. The two men climbed into the back seat, and the car moved up the road the way it had come.
Jane tapped Rita. “There’s another way. Come on.”
Jane rose and began to trot into the field, making her way farther from the road and back toward the house.
Jane could hear Rita’s footsteps behind her, but suddenly they stopped. Rita’s voice reached her from twenty feet back. “Wait,” she said. “I’m not leaving Bernie out there to die.”
Jane stepped close to her. “Keep your voice down,” she whispered. “If Bernie did what I told him to, he’ll be fine until we catch up with him. If he didn’t, nothing we do is going to help him.”
