Crossing Savage by Dave Edlund Page A

in position to take these guys out.” Jim had climbed back into the front seat.
    â€œUp ahead… looks like I can turn off to the right. Are you ready?”
    â€œAs I’ll ever be.”
    Peter took the turn and slammed on the brakes, spinning the Hummer around so that Jim’s side of the vehicle was facing back at the gravel road. Even before the truck had come to a complete stop Jim was leaning out his door, firing at the sedan. Unfortunately, the dust from sliding on the gravel made it almost impossible to see the sedan, and he couldn’t get off any well-aimed shots. He slammed the door shut as the gray sedan continued on down the gravel road to get past the ambush.
    â€œGet us out of here—back to the highway! I think I might have got them, but let’s not wait to find out!”
    Peter shoved the transmission into reverse and floored it. The trucked screamed backwards and then slid to a stop as Peter spun the wheel, shifted into drive, and punched the accelerator. They left a shower of gravel and dust behind as they hastily headed back to the highway. Peter turned right onto Highway 20 again. He smoothly accelerated to the speed limit. Jim rammed home another full magazine into Karl—his last.
    They had only covered about a mile when their pursuers appeared again, gaining quickly. “Man, these guys just won’t quit! And they’re beginning to piss me off!” hissed Jim.
    Peter pushed the accelerator to the floor; the truck again picked up speed, but not as fast as the sedan. They entered a left curve and Jim couldn’t get a clear shot off. But Skinny had no problems and fired two short, controlled bursts from the MP5. He knew what he was doing, thought Jim. A cluster of bullets hit the tailgate of the truck. Then there was a different sound, a sort of a poof—“Shit! I think they hit the tires!” said Peter.
    â€œOh man, that’s bad.” And then a moment later Jim added, “How come we aren’t slowing?”
    â€œI swapped out the stock tires for run-flat all-terrain rubber. Never thought I’d test them this way!”
    They approached a right curve as the truck neared the summit. Peter was driving very fast, but the sedan had gotten close. Good, thought Jim. Just a little closer. Peter entered the right curve and Jim found his opening. He leaned out the right window as far as he could balance and had a clear view of the sedan. He could see Skinny raising the MP5 and getting ready to shoot.
    â€œHold as steady as you can… I’m going to end this right here!” He pulled the trigger. BOOM! Again and again. BOOM! BOOM! Jim fired off six aimed shots within two seconds. Skinny and the driver of the sedan were close—at twenty yards Jim could hardly miss—and he didn’t.
    The H3T came out of the turn and covered the remaining 50 yards to the top of the grade—Tombstone Pass. The road made a gentle but significant sweep to the left here. Peter took the turn, not slowing for a second. The gray sedan, however, did not. It veered to the right and slid on the gravel shoulder. The driver couldn’t pull out of the slide and the car slammed sideways into a tree, coming to a stop.
    Jim sighed and his shoulders slumped as he leaned his head back. He put the large Super Hawg on his lap and engaged the safety. “I think they’re done,” he said. “Saw them hit a tree sideways. That car isn’t going anywhere.”
    Peter leaned back in his seat and relaxed his grip on the wheel, allowing his fingers to regain their natural color. He slowed back to the speed limit, braking as they came down the grade. It was still another hour to Sisters, the nearest city. Jim holstered his gun. “When will we have cell coverage again?”
    â€œNot until we get to Sisters. The run-flat tires should hold until we get there, if I take it easy.”
    â€œI don’t think we’ll have any more problems.