Primal Threat - Earl Emerson [65]
“I didn’t want to get left out there by myself with all four of them coming down on me,” said Kasey.
“Forget the bickering,” said Fred. “We need to work as a team or they’ll come down and kill us one by one.”
All three of them had their rifles trained on the trail, where they could see a small glimpse of the main road. The three rifles were the only guns in camp. Kasey knew he should have thought to retrieve the pistol lying in the road, but he hadn’t. They were making a lot of mistakes. The bikers weren’t going to get the pistol, though, because from their position, all three of them had a bead on it. “You think they might go down the mountain for help?”
“Help?” Scooter snorted. “They might be going down to make sure we don’t get help. They want to finish us off so we won’t talk.”
“You really think they want to kill us?”
“It’s the only way they can get away with it,” said Scooter. “I’m telling you, they’re out to kill us all.”
Jennifer looked skeptical. “How did they talk the others into it?”
“I don’t know,” said Kasey. “But check out that guy on the road. They told him something.”
“Jesus.” Bloomquist’s voice was shaky. “We’re in serious trouble, aren’t we?”
“Why are they doing this?” Jennifer persisted.
“It’s simple,” said Scooter. “They don’t want to go to prison.”
“I can’t believe they’re trying to kill us.”
“You saw that guy point the cannon at Kasey.”
“He did do that,” Jennifer conceded.
“And they just now fired at us. My guess is he was supposed to draw us out on the road and they were supposed to get us in the crossfire. The only trouble is, they screwed up their timing.”
“This is crazy,” said Perry. “We’re in a shoot-out with a bunch of guys we didn’t even know yesterday.”
“Not that crazy, if you know Polanski,” said Scooter. “He’s always been one tick away from tearing up a McDonald’s with an AK-47. And that retarded fucker. He’ll do anything they say. And now that we shot one of them, the others will really be after us.”
Fred was pacing back and forth. “I just wish I could have picked off a second one. Damn!”
“Don’t you think it’s possible that guy was trying to give up his gun?” asked Perry.
“Come on, you pantywaist.” Fred gave him a look of disgust. “Are you going to let them kill my brother and get away with it?”
“But your brother—”
“Just keep your mouth shut if you’re not on our side.” Scooter was yelling now. “Okay? If you want to hike up the hill and join their side, fine. Get the fuck out of here. You’re either on our side or you’re on theirs.” Scooter turned and glared at Perry, then at the rest of them. “Any of you others want to go over to the other side, now’s your chance.”
“You know that’s not what he meant,” said Bloomquist. “We’re with you, Scooter.”
“The main idea here is we stick together,” said Kasey.
“That’s right. No turncoats.”
“I’m not a turncoat, Scooter,” said Bloomquist.
“Me neither,” said Perry.
“Wait here.” Fred was heading down the trail toward the road with his rifle at the ready. “I’m going to see what’s happening.”
Scooter followed tentatively, rifle locked onto his shoulder in firing position. Kasey followed Scooter. When they got to the main road, Fred peered up the hill for a long time, then jogged twenty feet up the road and climbed up onto a stump. “What are you doing?” said Kasey.
“They’re taking off.”
Kasey ran forward and climbed up next to Fred, catching a glimpse of color and movement through the trees above the cyclists’ camp, bicycles and riders in full flight. “They’re getting away.”
“Not if I can help it,” said Fred, firing several shots. Kasey sent a round up the hill, too. It felt good: the noise, the bucking of the gun against his shoulder, the smell of gunpowder. Even ejecting the hot shell into the rocks at his feet felt good. Then it occurred to him that his bullet might have hit somebody, that it was possible he’d just killed a man. He felt sick about what he was doing but at the same time was angry enough to keep doing it.
“How many were there?” asked Scooter.
“It looked like all four,” said Fred.
“You sure?