‘Yes. And since we’re pinned down by a lunatic with a rifle, why don’t you just go on and call me Yune, like el jefe here?’
‘You need to get over to the end of the building, where Ralph is. And Ralph, you need to get over here with me. When Lieutenant Sablo starts shooting, we’ll run for the road that goes to the tourist cabins and the Ahiga entrance. I estimate we’ll be in the open for no more than fifty yards. We can cover that in fifteen seconds. Maybe twelve.’
‘Twelve seconds could be enough for him to get one of us, Holly.’
‘I think we can make it.’ Still as cool as the breeze from a fan blowing over a bowl of ice cubes. It was amazing. When she’d come into Howie’s conference room two nights ago, she’d been so tightly wrapped that a loud cough might have had her leaping for the ceiling.
She’s been in situations like this before, Ralph thought. And maybe it’s in situations like this where the real Holly Gibney comes out.
Another gunshot, followed by a spang of metal. Then another.
‘He’s shooting for the SUV’s gas tank,’ Yune said. ‘The rental people won’t like that.’
‘We have to go, Ralph.’ Holly was staring directly into his eyes – another thing she’d had trouble with before, but not now. No, not now. ‘Think of all the Frank Petersons he’ll murder if we let him get away. They’ll go with him because they think they know him. Or because he seems friendly, the way he must have seemed friendly to the Howard girls. Not the one up there, I mean the one he’s protecting.’
Three more shots in rapid succession. Ralph saw holes appear low on the SUV’s rear quarter-panel. Yes, he was aiming for the gas tank.
‘And what are we supposed to do if Mr Renfield comes down to meet us?’ Ralph asked.
‘Maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll stay where he is, on the high ground. We only have to go as far as the path that leads to the Ahiga entrance. If he comes down before we can get there, you can shoot him.’
‘Happy to, if he doesn’t shoot me first.’
‘I think there might be something wrong with him,’ Holly said. ‘Those screams.’
Yune nodded. ‘“Get off me.” I heard it, too.’
The next gunshot ruptured the SUV’s tank, and gasoline began to pour onto the asphalt. There was no immediate explosion, but if the guy on the knoll hit the tank again, the SUV would almost certainly blow.
‘Okay,’ Ralph said. The only alternative he could see was crouching here and waiting for the outsider’s accomplice to start pumping high-velocity slugs directly through the gift shop, trying to take out one or more of them that way. ‘Yune? Give us as much cover as you can.’
Yune edged to the corner of the building, hissing with pain at each sliding movement. He held his Glock against his chest with his right hand. Holly and Ralph moved to the other end. Ralph could see the service road leading up the hill and to the tourist cabins. It was flanked by a pair of large boulders. An American flag was painted on one, the Texas Lone Star flag on the other.
Once we get behind the one with the American flag on it, we should be safe.
Almost certainly true, but fifty yards had never looked so much like five hundred. He thought of Jeannie at home doing her yoga, or downtown running errands. He thought of Derek at camp, maybe in the craft room with his new buds, talking about TV shows, video games, or girls. He even had time to wonder who Holly was thinking about.
Him, apparently. ‘Are you ready?’
Before he could reply, the shooter fired again and the SUV’s gas tank exploded in a ball of orange fire. Yune leaned out from his corner and began shooting at the top of the knoll.
Holly sprinted. Ralph followed.
15
Jack saw the SUV burst into flame and screamed in triumph, although it made no sense to do so; it wasn’t as though there was anyone in it. Then movement caught his eye and he saw two of the meddlers running for the service road. The woman was in the lead, Anderson right behind her. Jack swung his rifle toward them and sighted through the scope. Before he could pull the trigger, there was the zzzz of an incoming round. Rock chips struck his shoulder. The one they’d left behind was shooting, and although the range was far too long for accuracy with whatever handgun the guy was using, that last one had been too close for comfort. Jack ducked, and as his chin pressed down on his neck, he felt the glands there bulge and throb, as if they were loaded with pus. His head was aching, his skin was sizzling, and his eyes seemed too big for their sockets.
He peered through the scope just in time to glimpse Anderson disappearing behind one of those big boulders. He had lost them. Nor was that all. Black smoke was rising from the burning SUV, and now that it was full day, there was no wind to disperse it. What if someone saw that and called whatever excuse for a volunteer fire department they had in this poor-ass town?
Go down.
No need to question whose voice it was this time.
You need to get to them before they can get to the Ahiga path.
Jack had no idea what an Ahiga was, but he had no doubt what the visitor inside his head was talking about: the path marked by the sign showing Chief Wahoo. He cringed as another bullet from the asshole down there spanked rock chips from a nearby outcropping, took the first step back the way he had come, and fell down. For a moment pain obliterated all thought. Then he grabbed at a bush sticking out between two rocks and pulled himself up. He looked down at himself, at first unable to believe what had become of him. The leg the snake had bitten now looked two times as big as the other one. The cloth of his pants was pulled tight. Worse, his crotch was bulging. It was as if he had stuffed a small pillow in there.
Go down, Jack. Get them and I’ll take the cancer away.
Oh, but right now he had more immediate concerns, didn’t he? He was swelling up like a waterlogged sponge.
The snakebite poison, too. I can make you well.
Jack wasn’t sure he could believe Tat-Man, but he understood he had no choice. Also, there was Anderson. Mr No Opinion didn’t get to walk away from this. It was all his fault, and he didn’t get to walk away.
He started down the path at a shambling trot, clutching the barrel of the Winchester and using the stock as a cane. His second fall came when the rocky scree slid away under his left foot and his swollen, throbbing right leg wasn’t able to compensate. The leg of his pants split open the next time he went down, disclosing flesh that was turning purplish-black and necrotic. He clawed at the rocks and got to his feet again, his face puffing and running with sweat. He was pretty sure he was going to die on this godforsaken chunk of rock and weeds, but he was goddamned if he was going to do it alone.
16
Ralph and Holly ran up the spur road bent double, heads tucked. At the top of the first hill, they stopped to catch their breath. Below and to the left, they could see the circle of decaying tourist cabins. To the right was a long building, probably storage for equipment and supplies back when the Marysville Hole had been a going concern. A truck was parked beside it. Ralph looked at it, looked away, then snapped back.
‘Oh my Christ.’
‘What? What?’
‘No wonder he knew me. That’s Jack Hoskins’s truck.’
‘Hoskins? The other detective from Flint City?’
‘Yes, him.’
‘Why would he—’ Then she shook her head hard enough to make her bangs fly. ‘It doesn’t matter. He’s stopped shooting and that means he’s probably coming. We need to go.’
‘Maybe Yune hit him,’ Ralph said, and when she gave him a disbelieving look: ‘Yeah, okay.’
They hurried past the equipment building. There was another path on the far side, leading up the back side of the knoll. ‘I go first,’ Ralph said. ‘I’m the one with the gun.’
Holly didn’t argue.