by H. L. Wegley
“I am too. With surprise. Now go. Hurry, Allie.”
Hands on hips and steely-eyed, Rafael turned to face Jeff. “A surprise of two has a better chance of success. Since you know how to leap on people like an American football player, I'll leave that to you. What do you want me to do?”
There was another man here now. Not just any man, Allie's father. He would feel responsible for his family. But Rafael's willingness to let Jeff lead was a surprise. This man trusted him.
Jeff glanced toward the thick stand of trees as Allie's arm swept her mother and Benjamin through the foliage and out of sight.
The ATV's engine droned more loudly now.
“He'll enter the clearing from the north and he'll be able to see the base of the rock. If you'll stand there, Rafael, until he gets within fifty yards or grabs his gun, we can lure him in. Before he can shoot, you disappear around the south corner of the outcropping.”
“What about you?”
“I'll lay down in a depression on top. This guy will either dismount to run after you, or he’ll ride toward you on his ATV. Either way, I'll jump him from on top. After I take him down, you grab a rock and brain the guy.”
“Brain him?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you mean hit him on the head?”
“Yes. But do it hard, Rafael. Knocking people out is a lot harder than it looks like in the movies. Any questions before—forget the questions. Here he comes. Stay here. I'm going on top.”
Jeff drew all the remaining power in his legs to sprint up the south side of the rock. He leaped and slid on his stomach across the top of the rock as the ATV shot into the clearing.
The driver was the man called Hector. He had an assault rifle strapped to his back.
Hector’s head swiveled toward the rock where Rafael stood. Hector gunned the engine.
In a few seconds Rafael's head bobbed into view over the edge of the rock as he rounded the corner on the south side. He was safe for the moment.
Jeff tracked Hector’s approach.
He veered uphill. Hector was going around the opposite direction from Rafael.
They hadn't planned for this. Hector would go above the rock. He could spot Jeff, kill him, then get Rafael.
The ATV's wheels ripped at the ground, sending clouds of dust shooting from the tires as it climbed up the hill beside the rock. But the gun was still on the driver's back.
Jeff had only one option, rush the guy and pray for a good outcome.
Rafael leaped out from the south side of the rock, near the top. He had made himself a target.
Hector hit the brakes and reached for his rifle, his gaze locked on Rafael.
Jeff scurried on all fours across the rock. As he rose, he launched his body at Hector from fifteen feet away.
Hector pulled the butt of the gun against his shoulder. The barrel rose toward Rafael. Then it swung toward Jeff.
The staccato belching of the rifle sounded as Jeff crashed into Hector.
Pain seared through Jeff’s left side. Lightning flashed in his eyes. In its wake, darkness.
* * *
Allie peered through a small opening in the tree branches.
The ATV roared as it accelerated across the mountainside meadow toward the rock.
The ATV turned sharply toward the top of the rock where Jeff hid.
Allie opened her mouth to yell a warning. Her cry stopped in her throat when she thought of Benjamin and Mama standing behind her. Allie couldn’t draw the gunman’s attention.
Papa rounded the rock, exposing his body to the gunman. It was Hector.
Two quick bursts and Hector could kill both Jeff and Papa.
Jeff's body flew through the air toward the ATV.
A burst of gunfire sounded.
Jeff dealt Hector a savage blow, then fell to the ground.
Her father flew at the gunman. The rock in his hand made a sickening thud as Papa dealt a heavy blow to Hector's head.
He slumped over the front of the ATV.
Papa hit him again, harder this time. The fight was over.
But Jeff wasn't moving. He must have been hit.
Allie burst through the tree branches, running toward Jeff, while a slideshow of bloody, mortal wounds played mercilessly in her mind.
Chapter 17
Please, God. Not Jeff. Don't take him now.
Gaze locked on Jeff, willing him to get up or to move, Allie sprinted across the meadow toward him.
Papa pulled Hector’s limp body off the ATV, grabbed his gun, then turned toward Jeff.
Hector lay motionless only a few feet from Jeff’s body.
Allie reached Jeff and stopped. Her breathing stopped. Time had stopped. But she couldn't let it stop or she would be stuck in this nightmare.
Blood pooled around Jeff's arm and side. Could anyone survive after losing so much blood?
Her sobs started before her knees hit the ground. Deep gasps chopped them apart, preventing them from becoming one long, suffocating sob. On her knees, Allie touched the bleeding area, Jeff's upper left arm and side.
Papa tapped her shoulder. “Allie, I hear the … helicoptero.”
“Signal to them, Papa. I need to help Jeff, try to stop the bleeding.” But how?
“Papa, you have on an undershirt. I need your shirt, now.”
He pulled his shirt off, handing it to her, then waved his arms to the sky.
Summoning all her strength, in one violent motion Allie ripped the long sleeve from her father's shirt.
The sleeve was dirty, but hospitals had antibiotics. They wouldn’t need hospitals or antibiotics if she couldn't stop the flow of blood, now.
When she pulled back Jeff's shredded shirtsleeve, her fingers dripped with the very life of Jeff. The blood came from a large hole about two inches below his shoulder. She wrapped the shirtsleeve around his arm, placing it above the wound.
Allie pulled the makeshift tourniquet tight and tied it.
The blood flow decreased, but only slightly.
She looked around for something to twist the tourniquet. Nothing.
Panic and frustration grew. Allie panted now, hyperventilating. She needed to breathe more slowly or she would pass out.
She scanned the area around her again and spotted the brake handle on the ATV. With it, she could twist the tourniquet tight, but first she had to break the handle off.
A rock the size of a soccer ball lay a few feet away. Allie slid her hands under it, stood, and lifted the rock high above her head. She grunted out her fury and desperation as she drove the rock down on the brake handle.
The metal lever snapped off from her vicious blow. The rock smashed on the ground narrowly missing her toes. A chunk of metal the width of her hand landed on the ground by her feet. She grabbed the broken brake handle, slid it under the tourniquet and twisted hard. Once. Twice around …
The flow of blood stopped. Allie held the tourniquet, keeping it tight with one hand, tracing the contours of Jeff's face with the other.
She prayed with groanings from her heart or maybe her soul. They weren’t even words. Could God hear her? Would He understand?
The staccato sound of the helicopter grew and morphed to a continuous roar. Hair flew into her face and whipped around her neck. Dust blew across the ground in front of her.
But Allie's eyes remained focused on Jeff. And from the depths of her heart she continued praying with an intensity she had never before used when talking to God.
Someone put a hand on her shoulder and knelt beside her.
“I'm Dan, the SWAT Medic. We're going to take good care of him, but for right now, you just keep holding the tourniquet tight.”
Dan checked Jeff's pulse, then looked at the wound. “Was he conscious after this happened?”
Other men swarmed around them. From somewhere near she heard Mama's voice, then Benjamin's, talking to SWAT team members.
“Conscious? No,” she said. “He jumped from the rock onto the gunman. When Jeff landed on
the man, I heard shots, then Jeff fell to the ground, and he hasn't moved. Is he going to be okay?”
The medic quickly checked Jeff for other wounds. Then he stood. “Pete, Rick, bring the stretcher. We need to get this man to a hospital, pronto.”
She grabbed Dan's arm. “Is he going to be okay?”
“He's lost a lot of blood. His pulse is weak. But I'm not sure why he's unconscious. Until we check that out I can't say. But one thing I can say for sure, if you hadn't put that tourniquet on him, he wouldn't be alive.”
Dan obviously meant to encourage her with his words. But they didn't make her feel any better.
Jeff had saved her life so many times. This was her turn. But she might have failed him. “I need to go, too. You have to let me come along or I'll…”
“Ms. Santiago, you, your family, and Mr. Jacobs will all be on the chopper when it takes off. About you going to the hospital, that will have to be cleared with the team leader.”
Allie looked at the semi-organized chaos around her, at least a dozen men, all performing various duties.
“Who is the team leader?”
Dan nodded toward a tall man in SWAT gear. “Grady. The man talking to your … uh, father, I assume. Let me talk to Grady. But first you need to let me take care of Jeff Jacobs.”
“I'll help you.”
“No. You've done enough. I'll take it from here.”
“Then I'll watch.”
“Fine, Ms. Santiago. You watch.”
“And you'll ask Grady when we get onboard?”
“I don't think you're going to let me forget.” He paused as he tightened his improved tourniquet and removed hers. “You must really like this guy?”
“No. I love him.”
“I see. And how does he feel about you?”
Dan was just trying to keep her mind busy, keep her from losing her sanity. But he was also pushing her beyond exasperation.
Allie’s words erupted like lava. “You fix him! Then ask him yourself.”
“I believe I got my answer. Jeff's a lucky man.” Dan paused and glanced up. “Okay, Pete. Load him up.”
She followed the stretcher toward the helicopter, but the leader, Grady, stepped in front of her.
“I haven't had a chance to talk with you yet, Ms. Santiago. There are some questions I need to ask you about what transpired during the past twelve hours.”
“Can you ask me on the way to the hospital?”
“If you don't mind yelling … and everyone hearing your answers. It will be noisy while we're in the air.”
“I don't mind, but you have to let me go to the hospital with Jeff.”
“Have to?”
Dan clamped a hand on the leader's arm. “Grady, she and Jeff Jacobs are … “ he crossed his fingers, “… like you and Bethany.”
“Oh.” Grady nodded slowly. “Okay, on the condition that you answer my questions and agree not to run off again. I'll have the two marshals meet us at the hospital because you two still need protection.”
“Yes. I guess we do. What about my family?”
Grady pursed his lips. “That's an entirely different matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“They don't have visas and your father said their passports were taken. Until their situation is resolved, your family will go to the Immigration Detention Center in Medford.”
Her parents and Benjamin in a detention center? That could be purgatory, or worse. “They don't deserve that! They are good people and thought they had valid visas.”
Grady's eyes softened. “For what it's worth, I believe their story.”
And Grady didn't deserve the abuse she’d given him. Allie’s anger cooled.
“Ms. Santiago, I don't make these kinds of decisions. That's Immigration and Customs Enforcement's domain. I'll explain their circumstances to ICE. But frankly, I've only heard of one case where someone from Mexico was granted asylum in the U.S. due to danger from drug cartels. He was a journalist who did an expose on the drug lords.”
It was clear that her family's situation would take a while to resolve. In the meantime, she would need Jeff more than ever. But the reality was she had no guarantee that Jeff would still be alive at the end of this day?
Chapter 18
The wop, wop sounded more like a roll played on a bass drum. The drum was Jeff’s head. He tried to raise his left arm to hold his skull together. Pain screamed its message down his arm to his fingertips, then reverberated up and down his arm. The warm gray fuzziness began another invasion of his consciousness. He surrendered, willingly.
Through the narrow slits, bright lights stabbed Jeff’s eyes. Pain rose to a crescendo inside his head. A vague memory of lightning bolts running through his left arm made him cautious. He wiggled the fingers of his left hand. That slight movement brought immediate regret.
Allie. Some inner sense told him she was nearby.
Her hand took his.
He forced his eyes to open. Less pain this time.
She sat beside him, her chair pulled close to his bed.
So he was in a hospital.
Allie raised her head and opened her eyes. There were tears on her cheeks.
“Hello, beautiful.” His words reverberated inside his head creating something like a brain freeze on steroids. What had he called them as a kid? Slurpee tumors?
Funny how stuff from the past crosses a person’s mind when—he was probably spaced out on drugs.
She met his gaze and wiped her cheeks with her free hand. “You're awake. How do you feel?”
“Like someone used a jack hammer on my head, then tried to amputate my arm with a dull knife.” He tried to laugh, but the soft chuckle brought another Slurpee tumor.
“I was so worried about you, Jeff. You bled so much. And you were unconscious. I did what I could, then the SWAT team arrived, and their medic took over.”
“You saved my life, didn't you Allie?”
“The medic thought so. But you've saved mine more times than I—”
“No. You saved mine by running into my arms a few days ago.”
“Turning romantic on me. You must be feeling a lot better.”
“Better is a relative term. I feel better than a man having a root canal without Novocain. What do the doctors say about me? Am I going to live?”
“You'll live. We're still waiting for some kind of final prognosis from the attending physician.”
“I know what would really help this monster headache. You could—”
“Jeff, I've never kissed anyone before you. I would say we got off to a rather fast start. We skipped some things. When you’re up to talking, we need to.”
“I can talk, Allie. It’s not my mouth that hurts.”
She studied his face. “Tell me the truth.”
“I did. Do you have some questions for me?”
“There are some things I've wondered about. Like … what you do for a living. You never told me.”
“Well, I have a small inheritance from Mom, plus her house. I have an MA in English and I'm supposed to start teaching some college classes online this fall. It was the only teaching position I could find. They'll probably give me freshman composition classes. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll snag a philosophy class.” He paused. “What about you, Allie?”
“After all of this … I don't know if I can go back to school in September.”
“But you have a scholarship. Isn't your visa contingent upon being in school and making progress toward your degree?”
“Yes. But school is in Corvallis, and my family is in Medford, in a detention facility.”
He tried to digest Allie's information. Immigration detention. He should've expected that. “Worst case, you can see them on weekends. But let's pray about it. We can do some research when I get out of here. Their situation should be resolved long before school starts.”
A tall distinguished looking man in scrubs stepped into the room.
Allie straightened in her chair. Waves of dark ha
ir that had caressed her cheeks fell back against her shoulders. “The doctor,” she whispered, still holding Jeff's hand.
“So our celebrity is awake. Mr. Jacobs, I'm Dr. Harris.”
“Celebrity?” Media attention was never a good thing for Jeffrey Jacobs.
The doctor sighed sharply. “Yes. It's been a media frenzy since the FBI showed up in that helicopter with you and Ms. Santiago onboard. So far our security and the two marshals have kept them at bay. Changing the subject, you are a very fortunate young man.”
“Yes, I know, doctor.” He peered into Allie's eyes.
“I see.” The doctor paused. “You'll live, but you might not feel like it for a few hours. That headache will get better. You have a mild concussion from striking your head on a rock. We'll stay on top of the gunshot wound with pain meds. By tomorrow your pain level should drop and Ms. Santiago's blood will—”
“Allie?”
She pointed to the bandage on her arm and smiled. “We're both O positive, Jeff. Completely compatible.”
Dr. Harris chuckled. “You make a lovely couple. As I was saying, you'll feel a lot stronger tomorrow. We've pumped you full of antibiotics and, barring some unforeseen setback, we'll probably send you home tomorrow afternoon with a few pain pills and more antibiotics.” He paused again. “Any questions?”
Allie swiveled in her chair toward the doctor. “Is there any reason I can't sleep in Jeff's room tonight?”
“Well, I, uh, have never been asked—”
“I didn't mean …” Allie's cheeks turned rosy pink and she quickly pointed to the reclining chair.
It was refreshing, cute, highlighting her innocence and her beauty.
The doctor shrugged. “It's fine by me, but security is pretty tight right now. You'll have to take it up with those folks. I'll see you when I make my rounds in the morning. Both of you, I presume.” He focused on Allie. “You can sleep pretty well on these recliners. I ought to know.” Dr. Harris grinned as he left the room.
A rap on the door sounded and Wes walked in.
“The folks we have to take it up with.” Jeff looked at Wes and squeezed her hand.
“We've locked down this place tight as a banjo head.” Wes gave a satisfied nod.
