She forced herself to look around her, to do something to keep her mind from those awful sounds and images. The roar of the machine gun and the flames leaping up around the truck would be forever burned in her mind. It was impossible that Lara and Spade were dead. They just couldn't be. But her eyes had been riveted to the sight of Ned standing five feet from the truck, firing endlessly into the cab where Lara and Spade were trapped.
She glanced over at the man in the flight suit, seated across from her in the back of the pickup. He had been very quiet since his killing spree and she wondered what he was thinking. What kind of a man would machine gun helpless people and leave them to die in a fire?
A tear slid down her cheek. She reached up to wipe it with her shirtsleeve and winced at the sudden pain from her swollen face.
Her fists clenched tightly, Julie Darwood made a silent vow that if she ever got the chance she would make the man pay for the death of her friends.
* * * * *
The woman with the long pigtails lay still, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Mentally and physically depleted from her efforts, it was all she could do just to lie quietly, trying to regain her strength. She felt something warm run down her neck and reached up to touch it. She opened her eyes and saw the dark stain on her hand. Rubbing her fingers, she felt the stickiness of it, slowly becoming aware of the pain in her back, neck, arms and legs.
Her sight was limited to the side of the ditch, eighteen inches in front of her face and stretching forever in both directions. It was fortunate the ditch was not full of water or else she might have drowned. She was too exhausted to move.
A groan from nearby penetrated her dazed condition and with an effort she rolled over. Spade was lying next to her, his eyes closed and blood running down his face from the gash on his forehead.
Then it came back to her.
She had seen Ned come up to the truck, and when he disappeared behind the hood she knew she only had a few seconds to act. Her hands darted to her guns, but then she realized that she and Spade were easy target trapped in the cab. Quickly she popped her seatbelt loose, slid toward Spade and shoved as hard as she could. Trying to push him was like trying to push a big log. He was heavy.
But he was already hanging half out of the door and the truck was tilted over at a steep angle. That helped a lot, and on Lara's second shove, Spade fell out and into the ditch.
Suddenly she knew she was out of time. She quickly threw herself flat across the seat, ignoring the pain when a seat belt receptacle jabbed her viciously in the ribs. An instant later the windshield blew in, and she was showered with flying glass, even as she heard the roar of the automatic weapon.
Lara felt a half dozen pricks of pain as the glass rained down on her back and arms. Had she been wearing her leotard and shorts she might have been cut up a good deal more, but her heavy cowboy clothes saved her from all but a few minor cuts, the most serious of which was on the back of her unprotected neck.
As soon as the gunfire ended, Lara crawled quietly across the seat, trying to stay low. Behind her she heard something metallic fall in the road. She reached the passenger side and slid headfirst off the end, just as another burst of gunfire ridded the cab of the truck. She had no way of knowing it, but one bullet missed her right foot by five inches as she fell into the ditch.
Her heart pounding, she lay on top of Spade, hardly daring to move as the long burst of gunfire shattered the stillness of the night.
Footsteps crunched in the gravel of the road and Lara placed her hand gently on Spade's throat. The pulse was there, strong and firm. He was alive. Thank God.
Then she smelled the pungent odor. What was that? It grew stronger. She heard the footsteps returning and her hands dropped to her guns. If he came around the truck she would….
Whoosh! Fire leaped up and Lara realized why the man had not checked to see if they were dead.
Flames enveloped the whole back end of the truck, but Lara dare not move, lest Ned see her. But in few seconds the heat grew stronger and she knew then she would have to do something or she and Spade would be burned alive. She crawled silently to the front of the truck and peered around the front bumper, just in time to see Ned walking back up the road. His back was to her and she could see a truck backing towards him.
Lara struggled to her knees and pulled her guns. She could hit Ned from here easily and then…
"Laaara," said the weak voice behind her.
Her head snapped around…and she gasped, for a pool of burning gasoline was running into the ditch, only two feet from Spade's leg. Her thoughts of Ned forgotten, she hurried back to her friend's side. She grabbed him under his arms and tried to drag him, but it was hard, like trying to move a two hundred-pound block of concrete over uneven ground.
"Come on, Spade," she whispered. "You have help me. I can't do it alone."
She tugged again and she could feel him trying to help.
"Good show, just a little further."
Every foot was a struggle. She stopped for a second to rest and heard the truck engine fading away. Together they pulled and pushed their way up the ditch away from the burning truck.
Now they lay side by side, exhausted from their efforts.
"Laaara?"
"Yes, Spade. I'm here."
His eyes were closed. "Head hurts. Dizzy."
"You must've bumped it on the dashboard."
"A…are you all right."
"Yes, I suppose so. A few cuts and scapes, but fully combat effective, as you blokes like to say. Well, almost anyway."
His lips curled up a little. "Good. Funny." He coughed. "You gotta go after Britches. Leave me here. I'm feeling better now. I'll follow you as soon as….soon as I can."
"Spade, you're not fit to follow anybody." He really looked terrible.
"Maybe yes, maybe no," he replied. "But she needs you. Go after her. I'll come if I can." He smiled weakly. "Otherwise I'll wait here for you and Britches to come back. Then I'll take you to breakfast."
Lara laughed and got to her feet, remembering his earlier comment before they'd gone up the hill. "All right, Spade. I"ll fly solo this time." She turned away; it was probably a mile or a mile and one half.
She only gone four paces when she heard his voice. "Tiger?"
She glanced back. His face was in shadow, but she could hear the words clearly.
"Thanks, lady. I owe you."
* * * * *
Lara ran up the road as fast as she could, hoping she would be in time to keep Max from escaping with Britches. But 'fast as she could' was not very fast. She was used to running miles at a time and this relatively short distance would normally be a piece of cake. But tonight was different. She was exhausted by her lack of sleep and bleeding from a half a dozen untended wounds. He stomach hurt and so did her neck and breast, where she had been yanked savagely by the seatbeat when the truck hit the ditch. Still a little stunned from her near-death experience, she was nearing the limits of her physical endurance. Several times during the mile and a half, she had been forced to stop for a minute and catch her breath.
Finally, she came to the ghost town and saw the truck taillights up at the far end of the street, looking strangely out of place in the darkness. Hopefully Britches was still there.
She circled behind the buildings, trying to stay in the deep shadows. Then, almost even with the truck, she slipped quietly through an alleyway and soon reached the edge of the street.
The truck was right in front of her and much to her relief, she saw Britches sitting in the back. The Mansfield character was in the passenger seat, but Lara saw no sign of Max or Ned.
She watched for a full minute, but saw nothing. Then something caught her eye and she saw the orange glow of a cigarette in the darkness a good distance to her right.. That's one of them. Where was the other one?
Could Britches get out of the truck? Was she tied up?
Lara stooped down and picked up a small pebble from the street. She threw it carefully, hoping to hit Britches in the head and attract her attention. But the pebble was a small one and landed short of the truck. Lara picked up another stone and advanced several paces into the street, drawing her left-hand pistol at the same time.
Again she threw the stone, a little harder this time. The arc of the throw was right in line with Britches' head, but passed over the top of it and landed in the metal truck bed with a soft but distinct click. The stone didn't stop, but bounced into the opposite sidewall and ricocheted back, each bounce making a sound.
Britches' head came up and she looked around. C'mon, Britches, begged Lara, look this way. A few seconds later she did and Britches' eyes widened with surprise and then joy. Lara waved quickly for her to hurry. Britches was halfway to her feet when Max's head appeared above the side of the truck.
"What the heck was….hey, kid, where do think you're going? Siddown."
Lara backed slowly toward the alleyway, trying not attract his attention, since she was totally exposed where she was standing. Britches slumped dejectedly back into the bed of the truck, looking forlornly in Lara's direction.
Max turned toward the front of the truck. "Hey, Ned!" he called. "Any sign of 'em yet?
The voice answered from the end of the street. "There's headlights comin' toward us, Mr. G. Maybe it's them."
Lara knew she had to move fast. Apparently Max was expecting help. She had to rescue Britches before reinforcements made the odds too long.
She crept up to the truck, her eyes on Max, who was still facing toward the end of the street.
"Kindly stay where you are, Max. My guns are pointed at the back of your head."
Max stiffened. "Miss Croft? How the heck did you get out the truck?"
"I did, Max," she answered. "And that's all that matters. Put your hands behind your head. Keep 'em away from your coat." Keeping Max covered, she glanced at her young friend. "Hop out, Britches. Quickly. You, too, Mansfield, get out of the truck."
Britches didn't need to be told twice and quickly jumped from the back, taking care to stay out of Lara's line of fire. Out of the corner of her eye, Lara saw the passenger door open and the portly Mansfield shoved himself from of the cab.
"All right, Max," Lara said. "Keep those hands up and back slowly towards the rear of the truck."
Max was apparently not ready to give up. "One shout from me and Ned will be down here before you can count to ten."
"One shout from you, Max," she replied tersely, "and you won't live to see what happens next. Face it, you and your friend Mansfield are heading for a nice long stay in prison."
The next instant something slammed hard into Lara. The mention of the word prison had awakened Mansfield, who had suddenly realized which side he was on. Not really having a plan, he had simply charged at her. She had virtually no warning and she was not prepared for the attack from the unexpected direction.
She turned at the last instant, desperately trying to bring her guns around, but she was a full second too late. Mansfield had played American football in his younger days and he simply put his shoulder right into Lara's stomach. He outweighed her by almost a hundred and fifty pounds, and she was lifted off her feet and shoved backward like she'd been hit by a large truck. Her pistols flew out of her hands and she fell heavily on her back. Unable to stop his charge, Mansfield tripped over her feet.
Stunned when she smashed into the ground, Lara never saw Mansfield descending toward her. She was unable to lift even a finger to stop him. Suddenly she was crushed when two hundred and fifty pounds (110kg) fell on her. The air was driven from her lungs and she lay helpless, gasping for breath and pinned under the huge weight.
Go to Chapter Fourteen