T
"Help yourself," Spade replied, an amused chuckle in his voice.
She struggled up from the floor of the truck, wincing at the pain in her stomach. When she looked out the windshield, the entire entrance to the mineshaft was shrouded in dust.
The grate covering the entrance was a lightweight affair, designed mainly to keep kids and curious hikers out of the mineshaft. The truck had hit it moving at thirty miles an hour and knocked it right off its hinges. Spade hadn't stopped until he was a good way from the entrance. Almost on cue, an explosion rocked the mine entrance. A small avalanche had followed and the mine was quickly buried in tons of dirt and rock.
They got out of the truck and Lara was amazed to see the helicopter still sitting nearby. "I thought Max would be long gone by now."
Spade grinned devilishly. "Let's just say I 'fixed' the helo. Something about a knife and fuel lines as I recall."
Her eyes widened. "You did?"
He shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. My guess is that Max and company are on foot, headed for parts unknown."
"Unless he called for help," Lara added, pointing at the helicopter. "That thing's got a radio, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, it does. Unfortunately." But then smiled. "Or maybe it can get us some help, too. Why don't you check and see if they left our guns in the cabin, while I try to get the radio working."
Lara nodded and hurried toward the cabin. But her hopes were soon dashed. The room was empty. Now what, she wondered, walking outside. How could they chase the bad guys unarmed? She turned dejectedly toward the helicopter. They'd have to think of something else.
She hadn't gone five paces when something caught her eye. Turning, she saw moonlight reflecting from some metallic object in the bushes nearby. Seconds later, she picked up her pistols and Spade's big automatic from where Ned must've thrown them.
"I got the radio going," Spade reported when she joined him. "I'm tuned to the local control tower." There had been a book lying between the two pilot seats and it had been a simple matter to look up the tower frequency and dial it into the radio.
There was a break in the radio chatter and he picked up the microphone. "Tower, helicopter 3439 Delta Charlie" he called, reading the number from a plate on the instrument panel. "I have emergency traffic, over."
While he was talking, Lara started unloading their weapons. She wanted to be sure that no dirt had gotten into the barrels or mechanisms.
The controller came back at once. "Three Niner, Delta Charlie. Say location and nature of emergency."
"Tower, Three Niner Delta Charlie," Spade replied. "We're on the ground at the abandoned silver mine just south of Silverado. We have a hostage situation here. Can you patch me through to the county sheriff?"
A moment later, they got the bad news. All of the patrol cars were at a bad traffic accident on the other side of the county. The sheriff's dispatcher said she would send someone right away, but it would be a while before help could reach them. Spade then asked the dispatcher to contact Silverado and pass his message to Matt Branson.
"Looks like just you and me, Tiger," he said, climbing out of the chopper.
Lara turned on her heel and headed for the truck.
"Where are you going?" he called after her.
"To get Britches," she called over her shoulder. "Are you coming, Mr. Seal?" She yanked open the door on the left side and slid behind the steering wheel. She pulled her seatbelt tightly around her and soon Spade was seated by her side.
She handed him the .45 and turned the key. The engine came to life, but it was a ragged, uneven sound.
* * * * *
The window in the pickup truck shattered with a loud crash and Ned used the barrel of his gun to rake away the remaining glass. A few seconds later he was under the dashboard.
"We're wasting time, Ned," Max grumbled. "Are you sure you can hot-wire that thing?"
"Mr. G," Ned's voice was muffled from within the truck. "I can hot-wire anything. Have a little faith, huh?"
"Just make it fast, okay? I want to be long gone when they come to investigate that explosion."
"Chances are nine outta ten that nobody heard it, anyway. These hills do a pretty good job at trapping the sound."
Britches watched in dismay. Her hopes for rescue had faded when they had found the truck at the bottom of the hill. Now it seemed that Max would succeed in kidnapping her. At first she had been elated when they had discovered the helicopter disabled and she had hoped that Lara and Spade would find a way to escape and come after her. But if Ned got the truck started they could...
The engine roared to life and Ned appeared in the window, a big grin on his face. "Like I said, Mr. G, have a little faith."
Max ordered Britches into the rear bed of the pickup truck and told Ned to climb in with her. Then he slipped behind the wheel, a very nervous Mansfield on the passenger side. He flipped on the dome light and was just spreading the map over the steering wheel when he heard a tap on the rear window. Max turned and noticed the window had a small part could be opened.
"You still heading for that ghost town?" asked Ned when Max pulled the slide open.
Max turned back to the map. "Yeah. We'll ditch this truck there. Reggie and the others should be along in thirty or forty minutes." It took Max only an instant to find their location on the map they'd taken from the helicopter. The ghost town was about a mile north and a mile and a half east. Easy.
He turned the ignition key, but they'd only gone about five hundred yards when Ned shouted from the back. Max slammed on the brakes.
"Lights, Max," Ned told him, pointing up the hill. "Look up on there."
At first Max didn't see anything, but then he caught a glimpse of what looked like headlights.
"You think they got out before the explosion?"
"Dunno, Max. I could swear I tied 'em up pretty good." Ned glanced up the hill. "But knowing it's Lara Croft, nothing would surprise me. Lemme see the map."
Max passed the map through the window and Ned pulled out a small flashlight. Fifteen seconds later the light went out and Ned passed the map back inside.
"Let's go, Max. I got an idea."
* * * * *
Lara had a hard time staying on the steep, winding road. The truck handed poorly and a loud, grinding noise came from the rear end. Something must have been damaged when they hit the grate.
She glanced over at Spade and her eyebrows lifted a bit when she saw him braced against the dashboard. She wasn't going that fast, was she?
"Mind tellin' me where we're headed?" Spade asked.
"The gate at the bottom of the hill. That's the easiest way for them to get through the fence, isn't it?"
Spade nodded. "It's really the only way to go if you're in a hurry. Going over the hill instead of down leads nowhere. There's nothing for twenty miles. My vote is that they're headed for The Bottoms. There's a highway running right behind the ghost town. It would be a good place to wait for reinforcements or a pickup."
"Look, Spade!" cried Lara. "Down there to the left!"
* * * * *
They came to a sharp curve in the road and Ned held on as the truck swerved to the east toward the ghost town. The headlights he'd seen on the hill were now behind them and coming fast.
"Hold it here, Mr. G," he said when they'd gone about a hundred yards.
Max pulled the truck to a stop and Ned vaulted over the side to the ground. "All right, go down the road and wait for me." He glanced at Britches. "Don't even think about gettin' out, girl." The look on her face told him she wouldn't be any trouble, at least for the moment.
The truck sped away and Ned sprinted to the side of the road, where he hid behind a large tree, and pushed off the safety on the Uzi. This was a good place; they'd have to slow down when they came around the corner.
It wasn't long before he saw the headlights reach the curve in the road. He lifted the machine gun and waited patiently. The truck turned the corner, the engine speed increased, and soon the vehicle was coming right toward him. Ned was on the opposite side of the road from the truck and had a good angle of fire.
The Uzi is designed mainly for close-quarters fighting and it's short, stubby barrel makes it less accurate at any distance. But the range was relatively short and in this case the weapon was fired by an expert. He swung the barrel to follow the truck, aiming below and slightly left of the headlight. He pulled back gently on the trigger. A stream of bright orange flashes lit up the night, and the loud chatter of the weapon shattered the silence of the night. He emptied half the gun's magazine at the right front wheel.
The tire exploded, shredded by three rounds. Pieces of the hood tore away as the bullets ripped at the thin metal. The results were instantaneous. The truck careened to the right, ran into a deep drainage ditch and hit the other side moving at twenty-five miles an hour. The rear end of the vehicle flew up in the air and the truck turned half-sideways. It crashed back down into the ditch, and came to a stop, lying forty-five degrees on its right side. The hood popped open and the horn started blowing.
* * * * * *
Dazed, the woman behind the steering wheel shook her head, tying to clear her mind. She had just made the turn and could see the taillights of the other truck just ahead. She had caught the orange flash at the side of the road. But even as her mind recognized what the flash was, the wheel had spun viciously in her hands. The next instant they were in the ditch.
She slowly became aware of the horn blowing loudly. She glanced to her right and gasped when she saw her companion slumpted against the half-open passenger door. His seatbelt was hanging loosely and even in the dim light she could see the blood on his forehead. The seatbelt buckle must have failed.
Movement to her left caught her attention. The raised hood blocked most of her vision, but through a small gap she could see the man in the road in front of the truck. Still groggy, but sensing danger, she reached for her pistols.
But something was very wrong and she couldn't draw them. She glanced out the windshield again, but the man had disappeared. Where was he? Panic seized her as she tugged frantically on her guns…and suddenly Lara Croft was out of time.
* * * * *
Ned walked up to the wrecked vehicle, lifting the Uzi. The truck was leaning into the ditch at a forty-five degree angle. The horn was blowing and the hood was bent and open nearly ninety degrees, snapped loose from its normal restraints. Smoke or steam was coming from the engine and it was clear that the truck was not going anywhere.
As he reached the left front bumper, he thought he detected movement on the driver's side, but it was too dark to really see much. The angle wasn't very good and he moved a few steps to the left, stopping just inside of the left front headlight. Ned couldn't see the windshield for the hood, but that was no problem at all. He knew where it was.
Aiming at the driver's side, he squeezed the trigger and held it back. Flame lanced from the barrel of Uzi, and a line of bullet holes crossed the hood of the truck as he swung the weapon left and down. The sound of the horn quit abruptly, and the roar of the gun was followed instantly by the sound of shattering glass.
The Uzi clicked empty and when the echoes of the gunfire died away it was suddenly quiet. Ned slid the empty magazine out of the weapon and tossed it on the ground, replacing it with a full one from the big pocket on the right leg of his flight suit. He pulled back the bolt to chamber the first round and walked calmly around to the left side of the truck. He couldn't see into the cab because the truck was lying at a steep angle. But that was no problem, either.
Ned lifted the gun again and gripped it firmly. Then, with a sense of grim satisfaction, he pulled the trigger. Orange flame leaped from the barrel again and the staccato roar of the weapon rang in his ears. The Uzi's mechanism cycled fifteen times before he released the trigger, and every shot was matched by a 9mm hole in the driver's side door.
* * * * *
A thousand feet up the road, Julie Darwood sat in horror as her eyes were glued to the continuous stream of gun flashes to the right of the truck's headlights. One second later the sound of the weapon reached her. Julie clapped her hands over her ears and forced herself to look away.
It couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. She and Annie had just been talking a little while ago. They were friends. They'd had such a good time. They were friends. It couldn't be happening. It couldn't. It couldn't. It….
Julie shut her eyes, as if she could erase the memory of the terrible thing she had just witnessed.
* * * * *
Ned lowered the smoking weapon and glanced toward the rear of the truck. An instant later the fuel tank was shredded by gunfire and the half-full tank of gasoline splashed over the bottom of the truck and onto the ground below.
Walking to the other side of the narrow road, he found a piece of trash lying in the ditch, the whiteness just visible in the moonlight. He picked it up, and saw it was the cardboard container from a twelve can carton of Diet Coke. He pulled a cigarette lighter from the pocket of his flight suit. The carton was dirty, but dry, and he had no trouble setting it afire.
He clicked the lighter closed and stood watching for a few seconds as the fire began to engulf the cardboard. Then he walked back across the street and tossed the burning mass into the small pool of gasoline.
There was a "whoosh" and flames leaped up around the truck. Ned slipped the lighter back in his pocket, replaced the magazine in his weapon with a new one, and watched the fire spread around the back of the vehicle.
She thought she was tough, did she? World-class adventurer, eh? Ha. What a joke. She was an amateur, pure and simple. And amateurs get killed. She should have stayed with modeling all those sexy outfits for the computer magazines, she was good at that. Great body, all right, but now…but now her candle was about to be burned out. Hmmm. Maybe Elton John would write some lyrics about her, too. He'd heard they were friends. Funny, he'd always expected to hear of her death in the jaws of some T-Rex or other exotic creature, not on side of the road in a burning truck. He shook his head as he turned away, and he thought of the word again:
Amateur.
Go to Chapter 13