ground, with lower elevations approachable from either end of the short canyon. This meant both parties could approach the meet from a neutral direction. It also meant the location was easily defensible for Cain’s men. The land rose sharply away from the end of the canyon, leveled off, and then bucked up again sharply. Puck and I had waited at the highest possible point, out of sight of the actual transfer location, but still fairly easy to get to with an off-road vehicle like the kitted-out Wrangler. Duke and Thresh had been positioned a good half-mile closer, where the ground had briefly leveled off, so they could rush forward and lay down covering fire for Nick as he drove away from the transfer. This meant they were exposed to a certain degree, but only to any gunmen on a high enough elevation to see them, not from the canyon itself.
We didn’t have far to go, a little over half a mile, but it seemed to me in that moment that it took forever to reach Thresh and Duke’s position—time was moving like taffy, stretching out, and then retracting to snap too fast, leaving me with still images of Puck’s hands on the wheel, utterly focused, and then a jumbling, jouncing, too-fast flash of the desert moving past the window, brown and blue and brown, rocks, dirt, reddish stone slicing into the sky.
Abruptly, Puck threw the Humvee sideways into an arcing skid, shoving me hard against the wall, and then he had the big vehicle in park and his door open, and he was standing in the doorway, an HK MP-5 to his shoulder, kicking in three-round bursts over the windshield. I heard his submachine gun rattling, at once too loud and not loud enough. And then I saw Duke throw himself around the hood, taking cover behind the Humvee, ejecting a magazine from his M-4 and replacing it. I heard Thresh’s voice, and then the rear door flew open, slammed against the apex of its hinges, and Thresh was there, all seven feet and three hundred plus pounds of him. Sweat poured down his face, and blood reddened the outside of his right bicep from a thin, shallow scratch. He had an M-4 too, and was using the momentary reprieve of hiding behind the door to reload, like Duke.
Thresh winked at me. “Hi-ya, Layla.” He rolled out, peering around the edge of the door, cracked off a few rounds, and then rolled back. “Having fun yet?”
I couldn’t swallow. “No. Not really.”
“Hey, this is where the party’s at, babe. Got your nine?”
I patted the holster. “Should I…I don’t know. Help?”
I had to wait for a response, as Thresh had rolled out and fired, and was now ducking back in behind the door. “No. Just be ready. I don’t know what state Harris will be in. Might need extra cover.” He eyed the radio in my hands. “See if Anselm can report.”
I thumbed the mic. “Anselm, can you see Harris?”
“ Nein. Er ist nicht —he is not in my line of sight. He had pursuit, however. Expect them at any moment.”
I peered through the window, and saw a starburst of fire from a muzzle somewhere in the distance, and then a second, and then a third. I wasn’t sure where the shooters were hiding. I wasn’t sure of anything. Why were they pursuing Nick? He’d given them the money. I wasn’t sure who we were shooting at, or why they were shooting at us, or why anything was happening.
I jumped as something slammed loudly into the side of the Humvee, on the other side of the metal from me, jarring me. The impacts reverberated across the length of the Humvee toward Thresh, who was rolled out to return fire.
“Thresh! Get back!” I shouted.
He moved instantly, threw himself down to the ground and scrambled onto his back behind the Humvee, out of the line of fire. I saw the glass in the back door of the Humvee, which Thresh had just been hiding behind, crack and then spider web as bullets hit it—it was bulletproof, however, and held.
I heard an engine roaring, then. I shuffled across the bench seat and
We didn’t have far to go, a little over half a mile, but it seemed to me in that moment that it took forever to reach Thresh and Duke’s position—time was moving like taffy, stretching out, and then retracting to snap too fast, leaving me with still images of Puck’s hands on the wheel, utterly focused, and then a jumbling, jouncing, too-fast flash of the desert moving past the window, brown and blue and brown, rocks, dirt, reddish stone slicing into the sky.
Abruptly, Puck threw the Humvee sideways into an arcing skid, shoving me hard against the wall, and then he had the big vehicle in park and his door open, and he was standing in the doorway, an HK MP-5 to his shoulder, kicking in three-round bursts over the windshield. I heard his submachine gun rattling, at once too loud and not loud enough. And then I saw Duke throw himself around the hood, taking cover behind the Humvee, ejecting a magazine from his M-4 and replacing it. I heard Thresh’s voice, and then the rear door flew open, slammed against the apex of its hinges, and Thresh was there, all seven feet and three hundred plus pounds of him. Sweat poured down his face, and blood reddened the outside of his right bicep from a thin, shallow scratch. He had an M-4 too, and was using the momentary reprieve of hiding behind the door to reload, like Duke.
Thresh winked at me. “Hi-ya, Layla.” He rolled out, peering around the edge of the door, cracked off a few rounds, and then rolled back. “Having fun yet?”
I couldn’t swallow. “No. Not really.”
“Hey, this is where the party’s at, babe. Got your nine?”
I patted the holster. “Should I…I don’t know. Help?”
I had to wait for a response, as Thresh had rolled out and fired, and was now ducking back in behind the door. “No. Just be ready. I don’t know what state Harris will be in. Might need extra cover.” He eyed the radio in my hands. “See if Anselm can report.”
I thumbed the mic. “Anselm, can you see Harris?”
“ Nein. Er ist nicht —he is not in my line of sight. He had pursuit, however. Expect them at any moment.”
I peered through the window, and saw a starburst of fire from a muzzle somewhere in the distance, and then a second, and then a third. I wasn’t sure where the shooters were hiding. I wasn’t sure of anything. Why were they pursuing Nick? He’d given them the money. I wasn’t sure who we were shooting at, or why they were shooting at us, or why anything was happening.
I jumped as something slammed loudly into the side of the Humvee, on the other side of the metal from me, jarring me. The impacts reverberated across the length of the Humvee toward Thresh, who was rolled out to return fire.
“Thresh! Get back!” I shouted.
He moved instantly, threw himself down to the ground and scrambled onto his back behind the Humvee, out of the line of fire. I saw the glass in the back door of the Humvee, which Thresh had just been hiding behind, crack and then spider web as bullets hit it—it was bulletproof, however, and held.
I heard an engine roaring, then. I shuffled across the bench seat and
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