Primal Threat - Earl Emerson [80]
“God, they’re aggressive,” said Giancarlo.
“Up here they’re very protective of their territory,” Muldaur said.
The road grew steeper, and Zak pushed his thumb shifter until he was in his lowest gear, traveling less than two miles an hour now. Any slower and they’d tip over. A stand of trees came up on their right, and the lake disappeared behind them. They were riding single-file, each following the bike in front while searching out the best part of the road. Zak couldn’t see evidence of any vehicles having traveled this logging road in years, though there were some rusting cables by the wayside in several spots.
The hillside here was so steep, Zak reminded himself to be careful in case they had to come back this way. At speed, a momentary lapse of concentration could cause a bike to rocket hundreds of feet off a bluff.
When they came out of the trees, they were in direct sunshine for the first time in a long while. The shadows hadn’t exactly been cool, but now the road was baking. They were high on the mountain on the south side of the lake. Zak had a hard time judging just how much time it would take to reach the summit, or where the summit might even be. Hazarding a glance behind, he saw Stephens almost fifty yards back, Giancarlo behind him. Muldaur was still twenty feet in front, which was close enough to keep in voice contact but not so close they were in each other’s way.
“How are they doing back there?” asked Muldaur.
“Okay so far. You see the top?”
“No, but from what we saw yesterday on the other side of the lake, I’m willing to bet we’re about a third of the way up.”
They heard a popping sound from somewhere far below, the lake and the basin it sat in acting as a natural megaphone in the quiet morning air. When they heard a second pop, Zak said, “You think that’s them?”
“It has to be. Probably trying to bring down that bald eagle. Everybody else was ordered to evacuate the area because of the fire danger. And we haven’t seen anyone else.”
Another hummingbird flew over their heads, and then another, whirring straight off the rocks to their right. It was a moment or two before Zak realized they were actually bullets. “They’re shooting at us.”
“Fuckers.”
Muldaur moved to the far left side of the road, Zak following, each trying to minimize exposure to the riflemen. Zak could still see the lake and the cabins, which meant the shooters could see him.
“What’s going on?” It was Giancarlo yelling from down the road. He’d dropped even farther back.
“They’re shooting at us. Move over.”
Zak lowered his upper body as much as possible, then heard a bullet thunk the earth embankment behind him. “They must be a quarter mile away,” he said. “Maybe farther.”
“More like a thousand yards. I wonder how long we’re going to be exposed here.”
It took another minute and several more bullets before they reached a mound of dirt and rock on the right side of the road that screened them. Zak stole a look behind and glimpsed Stephens and Giancarlo riding even farther to the left than he and Muldaur. The surface of the road was more uneven where they were, and as he watched, Stephens lost his equilibrium and was forced to snap out of his quick-release pedal and put a foot down. Without batting an eye, he began running his bike up the hill, pacing Giancarlo.
Then they hit another long open stretch where they would be exposed to gunfire. It gave Zak the creeps thinking that at any moment a bullet might puncture one of his lungs. It wasn’t as if they