One Rough Man - Brad Taylor [154]
92
I poked my head up to get another read, immediately drawing a fusillade of fire. In that glimpse I had seen two men preparing to flank us. In order to do so, they would have to cross the road, traversing about forty feet of open ground. I leaned around the front of the SUV, keeping low, and saw them begin to move. I snapped off a few rounds, driving them back, but drew fire on my new position in return, forcing me to jerk back behind the Pajero.
Jennifer, still oblivious to our peril, asked, “What are we waiting for? What are we going to do?”
“Jennifer ... we’re in deep shit. I’m not sure what we’re going to do. Once they get to the high ground in back of us, we’re dead. The only thing that runs through my head is the ending of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”
Jennifer’s smile faltered, the predicament finally getting through. “How are we getting away?”
I peeked around the front of the Pajero again, seeing the two men making another break, both armed with assault rifles. I was able to snap off three rounds before being driven back, thinking I had winged one of the men, but ultimately unsure. They made it across the open ground. I rolled back around, leaning against the frame of the Pajero. Fuck. We’re done.
“This is it. I want you to crawl underneath the SUV. They’re going to reach the high ground in about a minute. From there, they’ll kill us both. Once I start shooting, I want you to roll out the other side and run across the road, into the underbrush. Run down the hill as fast as you can. With any luck the other guy will be focused on the firefight and won’t be able to get a clean shot at you. Once you’re in the woods, keep going. Don’t stop for anything. Run until you hit another car or a town.”
Jennifer sat still, the implications of the plan sinking in.
“What about you?” she said. “What are you going to do?”
I couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’ll find you in the town. Okay?”
“No, no, no. I’m not doing that. Let’s both run.”
Please don’t make this hard. “Look, someone has to pin them down so the other can make the run. Since you can’t shoot, that leaves me. Please, get underneath the damn truck. We’re out of time.”
Jennifer’s face flushed. She started to say something else but thought better of it. She leaned close and gave me a peck on the cheek. I saw her eyes begin to water.
She said, “I’ll see you in the town.”
I leaned back, resigned to what was coming. Make no mistake, I wanted to live. But I had a greater responsibility to Jennifer. There was no way I was going to let her die. I was disappointed at how my life would end, but not tragically so. I had had a good run. My only shame was the mess I had become over the last year. Just when I crawl out of the sewer, I get killed. What a waste. God seemed to enjoy knocking me around. I just hoped my death would be enough entertainment. Let Jennifer live. You’re getting me. You’ll have my entire fucking family. Isn’t that enough? Please let her get out of here.
I looked at the sky, seeing the contrails of a jet high overhead, wondering where it was going. I thought about Carlos, running loose with a device that would kill hundreds, if not thousands, hoping someone else would be able to stop him. I saw a helicopter in the distance, lazily circling as if looking for something. I felt a spring breeze against my face, light and warm, rustling the tree branches. Why have I never taken the time to enjoy that before? I wondered if my life had been good enough to earn the right to see Angie and Heather in heaven. I checked my weapon, saying another silent prayer for enough speed to give Jennifer a chance to escape.