Yune studied his wounded arm. The bleeding had slowed, but the swelling hadn’t. Soon he would have no appreciable elbow joint at all. “This hurts worse than when my wisdom teeth went to hell. Tell me you have an idea, Ralph.”
Ralph scooted to the far end of the building, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted. “The police are on their way, asshole! The Highway Patrol! Those guys won’t bother asking you to surrender, they’ll shoot you like a rabid dog! If you want to live, you better run for it!”
There was a pause, then another scream. It might have been pain, laughter, or both. It was followed by two more shots. One thumped into the building above Ralph’s head, knocking a board loose and sending up a flurry of splinters.
Ralph pulled back and looked at the other two ambush survivors. “I think that was a no.”
“He sounds hysterical,” Holly said.
“Out of his mind,” Yune agreed. He put his head back against the wall. “Christ, it’s hot on this asphalt. And it’ll be a lot hotter by noon. Muy caliente. If we’re still here, we’ll bake.”
Holly said, “Do you shoot with your right hand, Lieutenant Sablo?”
“Yes. And since we’re pinned down by a lunatic with a rifle, why don’t you just go on and call me Yune, like el jefe here?”
“You need to get over to the end of the building, where Ralph is. And Ralph, you need to get over here with me. When Lieutenant Sablo starts shooting, we’ll run for the road that goes to the tourist cabins and the Ahiga entrance. I estimate we’ll be in the open for no more than fifty yards. We can cover that in fifteen seconds. Maybe twelve.”
“Twelve seconds could be enough for him to get one of us, Holly.”
“I think we can make it.” Still as cool as the breeze from a fan blowing over a bowl of ice cubes. It was amazing. When she’d come into Howie’s conference room two nights ago, she’d been so tightly wrapped that a loud cough might have had her leaping for the ceiling.
She’s been in situations like this before, Ralph thought. And maybe it’s in situations like this where the real Holly Gibney comes out.
Another gunshot, followed by a spang of metal. Then another.
“He’s shooting for the SUV’s gas tank,” Yune said. “The rental people won’t like that.”
“We have to go, Ralph.” Holly was staring directly into his eyes—another thing she’d had trouble with before, but not now. No, not now. “Think of all the Frank Petersons he’ll murder if we let him get away. They’ll go with him because they think they know him. Or because he seems friendly, the way he must have seemed friendly to the Howard girls. Not the one up there, I mean the one he’s protecting.”
Three more shots in rapid succession. Ralph saw holes appear low on the SUV’s rear quarter-panel. Yes, he was aiming for the gas tank.
“And what are we supposed to do if Mr. Renfield comes down to meet us?” Ralph asked.
“Maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll stay where he is, on the high ground. We only have to go as far as the path that leads to the Ahiga entrance. If he comes down before we can get there, you can shoot him.”
“Happy to, if he doesn’t shoot me first.”
“I think there might be something wrong with him,” Holly said. “Those screams.”
Yune nodded. “？‘Get off me.’ I heard it, too.”
The next gunshot ruptured the SUV’s tank, and gasoline began to pour onto the asphalt. There was no immediate explosion, but if the guy on the knoll hit the tank again, the SUV would almost certainly blow.
“Okay,” Ralph said. The only alternative he could see was crouching here and waiting for the outsider’s accomplice to start pumping high-velocity slugs directly through the gift shop, trying to take out one or more of them that way. “Yune? Give us as much cover as you can.”
Yune edged to the corner of the building, hissing with pain at each sliding movement. He held his Glock against his chest with his right hand. Holly and Ralph moved to the other end. Ralph could see the service road leading up the hill and to the tourist cabins. It was flanked by a pair of large boulders. An American flag was painted on one, the Texas Lone Star flag on the other.
Once we get behind the one with the American flag on it, we should be safe.
Almost certainly true, but fifty yards had never looked so much like five hundred. He thought of Jeannie at home doing her yoga, or downtown running errands. He thought of Derek at camp, maybe in the craft room with his new buds, talking about TV shows, video games, or girls. He even had time to wonder who Holly was thinking about.