Primal Threat - Earl Emerson [131]
He hadn’t been away more than a few moments—at least he thought it was only a few moments—when Kasey began yelling. “You still there? Christ, you didn’t leave, did you? You stupid bastard.”
Zak peered into the doorway. “Try to keep the excitement level down to a dull roar, would you?”
“I thought you left.”
“Nobody’s splitting. We go out of here together.”
“It’s too weird. You pulled my sister out of a car. Now you’re pulling me out.”
It was weirder than Kasey knew. He’d rescued Kasey’s sister, but seventeen years earlier had failed to rescue his own.
He’d cheated death when he was eleven; he’d always known that. His destiny had been to crawl inside with Charlene and not come out. He wondered if he was going to cheat death and destiny one more time.
Zak walked around the rear of the Porsche and stooped to pick through the rocks at the edge of the road. When he thought he saw a pair of cycling shorts inside, he stood on tiptoe and peered through the broken rear window. It was Morse. These guys were murderers and liars, and, when this was over, their thousand-dollar-an-hour attorneys were going to blame the deaths on Zak and Muldaur, but all morning they’d been hauling around the body of the man they’d murdered as if it were some sort of trophy.
“Where are you? Are you still there? You’re not making any noise.”
Zak picked up a piece of broken rock and jammed it into the door hinge. “Let me look at what’s going on.”
Thinking it was a miracle he hadn’t been overcome by panic already, Zak slithered into the Porsche, lowering himself past the gearshift console and Kasey Newcastle, who reeked of sweat and fear and the sour smell of old beer. His guess was that a formation of rocks in the ditch had bit into the sheet metal like a fork and jammed his leg.
Zak pulled gently on Kasey’s bare leg. “That hurt?”
“Hell, yes, it hurts. You don’t think I’ve been trying to yank it out?”
Zak was lying half across Kasey’s hips, feeling his body heat against his own already hot flank, their voices close and soft like lovers. “Give me the knife.”
It was dark in the bottom corner of the Porsche where Zak was working, but he quickly calculated what needed to be done. The sheet metal had popped inward and grabbed Kasey’s ankle like some sort of metallic flower so that the bloody flesh and bones of his lower leg were gripped tightly. Using the blade of the knife, Zak began prying the metal out of the way, using a second rock he’d brought with him for leverage.
“Shit! What are you doing to me? Ouch. Shit.”
As he worked inside the Porsche, Zak had to admit he felt safe swathed in all the leather and luxury. Even knowing there was a cadaver in the back didn’t bankrupt the false feeling of refuge.
“I hear the fire,” Kasey said. “How close is it?”
“Close enough that you’re going to have to run on that ankle after I get you out of here.”
“Run on it? I can barely feel it. Maybe if we close the door? Maybe it would go over us.”
“The fire gets anywhere close to this rig, it’ll go up like a road flare.”
“I know you’re a fireman and everything, but are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“It sounds like it’s right outside. Hurry. Damn it, Zak. Hurry.” It was the first time Kasey had ever used Zak’s name.
“Okay. You’re free. Pull your leg out.”
When Kasey scrambled out of the Porsche, he actually used parts of Zak’s body like rungs on a ladder. Zak backed out. By the time he reached the road, flames were close enough that he could feel them on his jersey.
Kasey was already flying up the road on foot.
Because the fire was fingering through the trees on either side of the road, Zak knew this had turned into another footrace. For a moment the fire seemed delayed, yet the instant it gathered some momentum and began marching up the mountain with any sort of certainty, they would both be dead.
Zak picked up his bike and began running alongside it, wondering if he should abandon it. He and Kasey were running at almost the same speed, Kasey 150 yards in front, though he had yet to turn