by Keith Taylor
“Oh, Jesus Christ, I thought he was still alive!” he gasped, his face pink. “I thought I heard him breathe!”
Karen clamped her free hand over Emily’s ear, pulled her head against her chest and angrily hissed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Doc? You’re scaring us!”
Ramos wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead and pushed himself back to his feet. “Sorry, sorry, he’s dead. I just…” He held up a plastic grocery bag. “You need your medicine.”
Karen felt her anger seeping away. “Well… thanks,” she reluctantly conceded. “But can we please get out of here now? I want to get off this damned road before that happens to us.”
Before Karen had finished speaking she realized it was already too late. Valerie’s hand shot out, pointing towards a column of dust rising from the road a half mile ahead. Beneath it another black dot shimmered in the haze, but there was no mistaking this one for a tree.
“Oh God,” Valerie cried, turning to Ramos with wide, terrified eyes. “They’re coming back!”
Karen could hear the engine now, a threatening roar that grew louder by the second, and she watched in horror as the dot resolved into the shape of a truck.
“We have to get off the road, now!”
Without waiting to see if the others were following Karen ran north into the flat, featureless fields that seemed to stretch all the way to the horizon. She knew there was nowhere to hide. There wasn’t so much as a tree in sight, nor even any tall crops to hide amongst, but there was no time to worry about where she was going. As the truck bore down on the Prius she knew the only important thing was to get away, as far as possible. If they could only make it far enough across the fields that it was too much effort for the attackers to follow they might just…
But no. Karen risked a glance behind her, and her heart sank. Ramos and Valerie were following just a few steps behind, but behind them the truck had reached the Prius, and with a feeling of utter dread Karen watched as it turned off the road and pursued them into the field.
She tried to run faster, but she was struggling under Emily’s weight. Beneath her feet the field was uneven and furrowed, pockmarked with small burrows that threatened to swallow her feet, and it wasn’t long before one of them caught her. She tripped, turning her ankle on some invisible obstacle, tumbling sideways to protect Emily from the shock of the ground.
Now she could hear the engine growing louder. She tried to stand, but her foot was bound up in something, a length of thin wire that seemed to run the length of the field almost hidden beneath the grass. She kicked it off, freeing herself, but she already knew it was too late. The truck was too close, looming over them. There was no way they could escape.
She rolled on top of Emily as the hiss of air brakes told her the truck had arrived. She pulled her daughter close and held her tight, trying to block out the world, whispering a prayer that whatever was about to happen it would at least be quick.
She heard yelling. Sharp, quick shouts. Orders.
Her mind was buzzing with terror, and as she looked up she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Everyone seemed to be yelling at once. She saw uniforms. Saw their lips move. She saw Ramos and Valerie drop to their knees and clasp their hands behind their heads. She saw a man stand over her, the sunlight casting a bright halo around him. A rifle pointed at her face as she squinted up at him.
“What do you want?” she cried, her eyes welling with tears. “I don’t understand!”
Another two men pushed past the man aiming the rifle. One of them took hold of Emily, dragging her away by her arms, and Karen screamed with a terrified rage. She tried to launch herself at the man, to grab Emily back and hold her close, but before she’d even made it to her feet she saw the butt of a rifle headed for her face.
Everything went blank as she tumbled back to the ground. Her ears rang and her vision swam. She felt someone haul her to her knees. They grabbed her hands and pulled them roughly behind her back. She felt the bite of plastic strip ties bind her wrists, and then finally the ringing in her ears began to fade.
And then the voices found their way past her terror, and suddenly it all became clear.
“You are trespassing on United States Air Force property. You’re all under arrest.”
΅
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
WE'VE GOT COMPANY
JACK NERVOUSLY ROUNDED the corner of the motel, approaching from the street in the direction of the gas station, trying to make it seem as if he’d just been on a stroll around town. It had taken him twenty minutes to work his way across the steep slope and make it around the station, but he figured Gabriela would be less suspicious if she saw him returning from the street than stumbling out from the pine forest.
His throat was dry and his heart pounded as he saw her waiting in the yard of the Parsons house. He walked as casually as he could, but he’d never been any good at acting. He was excruciatingly aware of his every movement. He felt like a kid in his first school play, awkwardly walking on stage and freezing in the lights.
“Hola,” Gabriela waved, smiling just as casually as Jack walked, but now he was looking for it Jack could see the sharp edges of her smile. There was no warmth there. Beneath her friendly mask she was surveying him, wondering where he’d been, looking for a hint that he might know something was amiss. “You went for a walk?”
Jack patted his stomach and flashed a weak smile. “Just a quick mile up the street and back. I needed to settle my stomach. Not feeling too great this morning.”
Gabriela’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “Mrs. Parsons is waiting for you in the kitchen. You can go in.”
“Thanks, I’ll just… Yeah, thanks.” Jack glanced over towards the truck. At this angle Gabriela would easily see Cathy when she tried to approach. On either side of the truck there were at least ten yards of open ground to cover, and she’d need to pop the hood to get to the fuse box. He needed to get the maid out of the way.
“Hey,” he said, stepping over the fence into the yard, “I don’t suppose you have any antacid, do you?” He could almost hear the final nail being hammered into the coffin of his James Bond fantasy. He pulled a sour face and held his stomach, as if he were in pain. “I don’t think that breakfast agreed with me.”
Gabriela shook her head, turning away from the parking lot to face him. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any.” She pointed towards the house. “Maybe you could ask Mrs. Parsons if she has something.”
“OK, thanks, I guess I’ll…” Jack fell silent and began to blow out his cheeks, swallowing as if he was trying to hold back vomit. “Oh, God.”
Gabriela’s expression turned to concern. “Are you OK?”
He shook his head, suddenly rushing across the lawn to the side of the house, where he doubled over and planted his hands against the wall. “I think I’m gonna…” He let out a pained gasp and heaved his shoulders. Behind him he heard Gabriela rush to his side, and as he looked behind him from his bent double stance he saw, upside down, Cathy rushing across the parking lot towards the truck.
Time to take one for the team, Jack. He hated vomiting with a passion, but he knew he had to make this convincing, so with a sharp convulsion of his diaphragm he squeezed his stomach, strained his throat and puked at the foot of the wall, almost choking with the effort.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” he gasped. “I’m so embarrassed.” He spat the bitter taste from his mouth. “Could you… could you please get me a glass of water?” he gasped, still gagging. “I… I think I’ll feel better once I’ve had a little water.”
Gabriela rubbed him on the back. “Yes, of course. Water is good. Mrs. Parsons can get you some in the kitchen.”
Jack turned to face her, letting an ugly gob of drool fall from his lips. “Would you mind getting it for me? I… I mean, I don’t want to go indoors and vomit all over the floor. I’ll wait just outside.”
Without waiting for an answer he pushed off the wall and took hold o
f Gabriela’s arm, pushing her towards the back of the house as if she was leading him there.
“God bless you,” he said, drool still hanging from his lips. “I don’t know what’s come over me. I don’t usually get sick like this. I’m so sorry you had to see that. I’ll clean it up, I promise.”
“It’s OK, don’t worry,” Gabriela assured him, struggling as Jack laid his weight against her. “Come on, we’re almost there. Mrs. Parsons!” she called out. “Mrs. Parsons, could you help us?”
Jack sped his pace, realizing that if the sheriff’s wife came outside she might see Cathy. “It’s alright!” he yelled, staggering towards the kitchen door. “I’m… I’m alright.”
Mrs. Parsons appeared at the door just as Jack reached it, and he barreled into her with enough force to send her reeling back into the kitchen. “I’m sorry!” he blurted out, still clutching Gabriela’s arm. “I just need a glass of water.”
“Good Lord, Jack, are you quite alright?” On the far side of the kitchen table Garside pushed back his chair and rushed towards him. “What’s wrong?”
Jack released Gabriela’s arm and took two staggering steps away from her. “I’ll be OK, Doug, I’m just feeling a little woozy,” he said. “Oh, here it comes again.” He swooned forward, knocking aside a dining chair and clutching at Garside’s tweed jacket as if he couldn’t stay standing without it. He leaned against his shoulder and turned his head.
“Get Boomer,” he whispered urgently in Garside’s ear. “We need to get out of here now!”
As he staggered back a step he could tell from Garside’s expression that he wasn’t quick on the uptake. “What was that, old chap?” he asked, his face plastered in a guileless smile. “I didn’t quite catch what you said.”
“Here you go, Jack,” Mrs. Parsons said, scurrying over with a glass of water cradled in her hands. “You’ll feel better after this. My, I hope it wasn’t something I served that disagreed with you.”
Jack shook his head as he gulped the water. “No,” he said, gasping over the rim of the glass. “Don’t worry, this is something I’ve had for a while,” he lied. “I just need my medication. It’s still in your suitcase out in the truck, right, Doug?”
Jack put everything he had into the look he shot at Garside. The wide eyed just agree with me glare would have won him awards in a just world, but Garside’s face was a mask of blank incomprehension.
“You put something in my case?”
“Yeah, remember?” Jack squeezed Doug’s arm as tight as he dared, not quite enough to make him squeal in pain but enough, hopefully, to finally get the message across. “Back in Pine Bluff. I put it in there when we switched cars, but I don’t know the combination to the lock. Can you open it for me? It’s in the back of the truck.”
“Lock?” Garside frowned. “On my suitcase?” For a moment it looked as if the message had once again sailed a mile over Garside’s head, but finally, after an excruciating silence, a faint glimmer of light dawned in his eyes.
“Oh, that suitcase! Sorry, I thought you were talking about the other one. Yes, yes, of course, I remember seeing your medicine in there. You want me to get it now?”
“Yeah, I should take it before I hurl again.” Jack breathed a sigh of relief as Garside took his arm and led him back towards the door, only for Mrs. Parsons to try to block their way.
“Why don’t you take a seat, Jack?” she asked, nodding to the table with an expression of concern. “I’m sure Douglas can fetch your medicine for you.” She pulled back a chair. “Go on, rest your legs. I’ll get you some more water.”
Jack pushed past her, noting the slightly panicked look in her eyes. It was clear she was afraid of letting him leave. “Thank you, Mrs. Parsons, but—”
“Joan, please. Come on, you look like death. Take a seat.”
“Thank you, no. I’ll be right back once I’ve taken my pills. Come on, Boomer.”
He continued out the door, relieved to see that the dog had for once decided to obey a command, trotting out ahead of him into the yard. Mrs. Parsons followed them out, trailing Gabriela behind her, and she seemed to grow more agitated with each step Jack and Garside took towards the parking lot.
“I can get you some juice if you’d prefer,” she offered, trying to tempt him back inside, “or I could even make up some lemonade in the SodaStream!”
Jack ignored her, pushing on through the yard and stepping over the fence. She didn’t sound like she was willing to try to stop them by force, but he kept a hand free in case he had to reach for the gun tucked in his waistband.
On the other side of the parking lot he saw a flash of movement, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw Cathy duck down in the driver’s seat of the truck. A moment later the engine roared to life, and Jack broke into a shambling half jog as Cathy threw the Ford into reverse and steered towards them.
“Please!” The panic in Mrs. Parsons voice was undisguised now. “Please don’t go!”
Jack looked back as he grabbed the handle and yanked open the back door, pushing Garside and Boomer into the truck ahead of him. By the picket fence Mrs. Parsons stood, red faced and on the verge of tears, wringing her hands with worry as she watched Jack climb into the truck.
“He’ll hurt you if you try to leave!” she yelled.
Jack slammed the door behind him without a response, and as soon as she saw that everyone was aboard Cathy shoved the truck back into drive, powered it out of the parking lot and swept out onto the road. Through the rear windshield Jack could see Gabriela talking on her radio as Mrs. Parsons wept with frustration, and he felt his heart begin to race. It was obvious the maid was warning the sheriff of their departure.
He just hoped Parsons wouldn’t try anything stupid.
“How are we doing for gas, Cathy?” Jack demanded, leaning over the back seat.
Cathy frowned at the gauge. The needle hovered just inside the red zone. “Well, it didn’t magically multiply while we were parked last night, if that’s what you’re asking, so it’s touch and go whether we’ll make it to the next gas station. Let’s just keep our fingers and toes crossed.”
“And let’s hope the owner of the station isn’t a friend of Parsons,” said Jack. “I’d hate to have to—”
“I’m sorry,” Garside angrily interjected, “but is nobody going to explain to me what in blazes we’re doing? Jack, what was all that palaver about medicine back there? And you, miss,” he said, poking a finger at Cathy, “I thought you’d scarpered last night. What the bloody hell is going on here?”
Cathy stepped on the gas as the truck roared out of town and the forest enclosed them once again. “You’ll have to wait until we’re a long way from here for the long version, Doug, but the quick and dirty of it is that there were some bad folks back there. Parsons wants to hold Jack hostage because he’s a doctor. We’re pretty much expendable, and the sheriff probably isn’t totally against the idea of killing us to keep the Doc in town.”
Garside sat back primly in his seat, straightening out the creases in his jacket. “Right then,” he said, his face turning a sickly shade, “well I suppose we’d better push on, then, hadn’t we?” He turned to look out the window, frowning at the forest whipping by, and after a long, contemplative silence he muttered to himself, “You know, I wanted to go to Mallorca, but no, we have to go to America, she says. It’ll be so bloody romantic. We’ll see the—”
“Quiet, Doug,” Jack hissed, craning over his shoulder to look out the rear windshield. He punched his fist against the back of his seat, swearing under his breath. “Cathy, can this thing go any faster?”
Cathy pressed her foot to the floor, and with a whine of protest from the engine the truck lurched forward. “A little, but we’re really burning through gas here. Why, do you see something?”
Jack nodded, grimacing. “Yeah, looks like we’ve got company.”
΅
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
HOLD STILL NOW
“COMPANY?” GARSIDE TWIS
TED in his seat. “What do you mean, company?”
Following behind the truck, visible only when the road straightened out, Sheriff Parsons’ police cruiser raced towards them, closely followed by a rusting beige pickup that eagerly jostled for position. Every time the cars came into view they seemed to have closed the gap a little more, edging nearer whenever the road allowed for a burst of acceleration.
Jack knew that it was only a matter of time before they caught up. There was no escaping them. There was only one road, penned in by thick forest on either side, and even if the truck made it all the way to the turnoff they’d missed the night before Jack knew they had no other option but to take it. There were no gas stations back in the direction they’d approached the town. Their only hope was to reach the station in Greenville.
What’s more, Parsons knew it too. He knew time was on his side. He only had to wait until their tank ran dry, and when they finally rolled to a halt they’d be sitting ducks, entirely at his mercy.
Jack narrowed his eyes, glaring at the cruiser, praying for it to collide with the pickup and spin off into the forest. He knew that only a crash or a breakdown would prevent it from catching them. Eventually he sighed, coming to a decision.
“Cathy, pull over,” he said, glowering back at the approaching cars.
“Pull over? Are you crazy?”
“Just… just pull over, OK? Please. We have to have this out right now.” He reached to the small of his back and drew out Cathy’s pistol. “There’s no point in dragging it out.”
Cathy scowled at him in the rear view, but she reluctantly slowed the truck and pulled in to the side of the road. “Have it your way,” she sighed. “But please tell me you at least have some kind of a plan.”
“Plan?” Jack stared down at the pistol in his hands. It had been years since he’d fired any kind of weapon, and he didn’t intend to break that streak. He pressed the magazine release, slipped it out and checked it before pushing it firmly back in. Almost full.
