Primal Threat - Earl Emerson [10]
“Bet you a hundred bucks.”
“You’re on.”
“You boys are going to have to turn around!” The security guard wasn’t much older than they were, midtwenties, full of fake bravado, swaggering over to the passenger’s window Scooter had rolled down. “These woods are closed until further notice. We’re not allowing any parties up in there.”
“I appreciate that, sir,” Scooter said. “But we’ve got a friend up there.”
“When he comes on down, I’ll tell him you were looking for him. Or you’re welcome to wait.”
“You don’t understand. My friend’s Bronco is broken down.” Scooter had deliberately chosen his imaginary vehicle to match the security guard’s. “He and his girlfriend have been waiting for hours. He’s sick.”
“It’s only three or four miles up the road,” Kasey said, leaning over and smiling at the guard. “We’ve been talking to him all the way from Bellevue. He busted his crankcase on a rock. He’s maybe three miles in. I don’t think he has anything to drink.”
“We’ve gotta get him out,” said Scooter.
“He really is sick,” Kasey added.
Scooter could tell from the guard’s face that whoever had hired him had not prepared him for this contingency. “Here. I can get him on the phone.”
“I can’t really—”
“Here,” Scooter said, pushing the buttons on his cell phone. “Jack? Are you there? Jack? Jenny? Where’s Jack? What?” Scooter glanced across at the guard as he spoke. “I’m afraid I’ve got bad news. You’re going to have to walk out…I can’t help it. There’s a guard here who won’t let us in. Well…I’ll let you talk to him.”
Scooter could hear Jennifer’s voice over the cell phone pleading, explaining that her boyfriend had diabetes and was beginning to lose consciousness—that they had no water and had been stranded for hours and she thought her boyfriend was going to die. If he didn’t let her friends in, the guard was headed for a huge lawsuit. Couldn’t he please let her friends come get them? They would be in and out in ten minutes.
Wordlessly, the guard handed the phone back to Scooter, then walked over to the steel gate and swung it out of their way. Kasey fired up the Porsche SUV, and the four trucks wended their way up the washboard hill. A minute later Scooter’s cell rang. “Did I do good or what?” Jennifer asked.
“Oscar time, Jenn.” Scooter could hear the two brothers, Fred and Chuck, laughing in the background. Soon all four vehicles were racing along the deserted county road.
Scooter clapped his phone shut and said, “That was beautiful.”
“Hang on. They’re right up here.”
“The cyclists? Already?”
“There’s a bunch of ’em. I thought there were just going to be two.”
“Nadine said eight or something like that.”
“I see five. Hang on. We’ll smother those fuckers in dust.”
“Yee haw!” Scooter shrieked as they hit a pothole that jarred his teeth. “Look at that cloud. These bastards are going to be brushing grit out of their teeth for weeks.”
“I hope it’s the right group.”
After they passed the cyclists, Scooter added, “It was them. I saw him. Jesus, I think Fred and those guys are going to run them over. It’s dustier than hell back there. I don’t know how they can miss. I think we cut it a little too close.”
“Did he see you? That’s what matters.”
“He was too busy spitting dust.”
A few moments later the walkie-talkie squawked. “Jesus. Can you guys slow down? We can’t see a thing back here. We’re going to go off a cliff or something.”
It was Roger Bloomquist in the Land Rover. “Just don’t hit any cyclists,” Scooter said. “I don’t want to have to crawl under somebody’s truck to pick a bunch of Lycra out of the undercarriage.” He laughed at his joke.
5
“What was wrong with those assholes?” Muldaur asked.
“I don’t know,” said Stephens. “Maybe they didn’t see us.”
“They could hardly have missed us,” said Muldaur. “I can’t believe how close they came to killing us. It was like they didn’t care if they did or not.”
“My guess is they’ve already started drinking,” said Giancarlo.
“Let’s not get too excited about something that, uh, ended up being rather inconsequential,” said Stephens. Zak had to