pinging and popping as they cut into the RV. At the last moment he swung right, clipping the rear of the truck and sending it careening as the man with the machine gun slammed in another magazine and emptied the gun in a sustained burst into the side of RV as it muscled past.
Kade kept the throttle down as the men fired into the rear of the feeling RV. He watched in the single unbroken rearview as the two men ran for the truck, but it didn’t move as it disappeared into the distance.
“Everybody okay?” Kade asked.
“Bickers has been shot!” Winter cried, crawling forward.
Kade risked a quick look. Bickers was still sitting in the floor his back him, bent over as blood ran down his back. “Bickers?”
“Don’t stop,” Bickers gasped as Winter helped him lay back. His hand was covered in blood as he held his stomach just below his rib cage.
“Bickers? You okay, man?” Kade cried.
Winter pulled his hand away and looked at the wound. There was blood everywhere. She had some backcountry medical knowledge, but this was far beyond anything she could deal with. “We’ve got to get him to a hospital!”
Kade pressed the throttle harder down, picking up speed. He had no idea how far it was to Laredo, the closest place with a hospital, but he knew he didn’t have much time. He stayed in the center of the road as the speedometer crept to fifty, then finally sixty miles per hour, as he fought the wheel, trying to keep the RV from sliding out of control.
Winter scrambled to the back of the coach, holding to both walls as the vehicle shuddered and weaved, grabbing four bath towels and making her way back to the front. She pressed a towel under Bickers’ vest, holding it over the wound as she laid him back on it, then pressed another towel to his stomach. It was all she knew to do.
After thirty minutes of shuddering and shaking along the dirt road, they finally hit pavement and Kade began to pick up speed. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s still alive but he’s in shock,” Winter said. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”
Duck looked at his cellphone. “We should get a cell signal soon,” he said softly. “We can call for help.”
Kade kept the throttle down as the coach reached seventy, then seventy-five, finally topping out just under eighty miles per hour. Something smelled hot, and the coach was trying to drag itself into the ditch on the right side, but he kept his foot down.
Winter watched as Bickers breathing became more and more shallow, his chest barely moving as it rose and fell faster and faster, his skin pale and cold to the touch. “You have to hurry,” she said as she continued to apply pressure to the blood soaked towel.
“This is it! It won’t go any faster!” Kade snarled, pressing the throttle harder to the floor, willing the machine to give just a little bit more.
She checked Bickers’ pulse. It was incredibly fast and barely detectable, and she knew he wasn’t going to make it. She whimpered and leaned over him, bringing her lips close to his ear. “Hang on, Bickers! Please, hang on,” she whispered.
“I have a signal!” Duck said a moment later, dialing the phone. “Shit! I lost it!”
She put her ear close to Bickers’ face, straining to hear a sound of breathing, then checked his pulse. “He’s gone,” she said quietly, sitting down in the floor and staring at him as her tears began to flow.
“Goddamnit!” Kade raged, pounding on the steering wheel, his rage boiling over. Three more brothers dead. Three more friends lost. They were starting to pick up traffic and he slowed, allowing the coach to coast down to the speed limit. “Duck, find the nearest hospital, then call the cops. Tell them what happened and to meet us there.”
Duck swiped and tapped, using his good hand. “Stay on Eagle Pass until you get to the sixty-nine, then the Bob Bullock Loop.”
Kade nodded watching the
Kade kept the throttle down as the men fired into the rear of the feeling RV. He watched in the single unbroken rearview as the two men ran for the truck, but it didn’t move as it disappeared into the distance.
“Everybody okay?” Kade asked.
“Bickers has been shot!” Winter cried, crawling forward.
Kade risked a quick look. Bickers was still sitting in the floor his back him, bent over as blood ran down his back. “Bickers?”
“Don’t stop,” Bickers gasped as Winter helped him lay back. His hand was covered in blood as he held his stomach just below his rib cage.
“Bickers? You okay, man?” Kade cried.
Winter pulled his hand away and looked at the wound. There was blood everywhere. She had some backcountry medical knowledge, but this was far beyond anything she could deal with. “We’ve got to get him to a hospital!”
Kade pressed the throttle harder down, picking up speed. He had no idea how far it was to Laredo, the closest place with a hospital, but he knew he didn’t have much time. He stayed in the center of the road as the speedometer crept to fifty, then finally sixty miles per hour, as he fought the wheel, trying to keep the RV from sliding out of control.
Winter scrambled to the back of the coach, holding to both walls as the vehicle shuddered and weaved, grabbing four bath towels and making her way back to the front. She pressed a towel under Bickers’ vest, holding it over the wound as she laid him back on it, then pressed another towel to his stomach. It was all she knew to do.
After thirty minutes of shuddering and shaking along the dirt road, they finally hit pavement and Kade began to pick up speed. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s still alive but he’s in shock,” Winter said. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”
Duck looked at his cellphone. “We should get a cell signal soon,” he said softly. “We can call for help.”
Kade kept the throttle down as the coach reached seventy, then seventy-five, finally topping out just under eighty miles per hour. Something smelled hot, and the coach was trying to drag itself into the ditch on the right side, but he kept his foot down.
Winter watched as Bickers breathing became more and more shallow, his chest barely moving as it rose and fell faster and faster, his skin pale and cold to the touch. “You have to hurry,” she said as she continued to apply pressure to the blood soaked towel.
“This is it! It won’t go any faster!” Kade snarled, pressing the throttle harder to the floor, willing the machine to give just a little bit more.
She checked Bickers’ pulse. It was incredibly fast and barely detectable, and she knew he wasn’t going to make it. She whimpered and leaned over him, bringing her lips close to his ear. “Hang on, Bickers! Please, hang on,” she whispered.
“I have a signal!” Duck said a moment later, dialing the phone. “Shit! I lost it!”
She put her ear close to Bickers’ face, straining to hear a sound of breathing, then checked his pulse. “He’s gone,” she said quietly, sitting down in the floor and staring at him as her tears began to flow.
“Goddamnit!” Kade raged, pounding on the steering wheel, his rage boiling over. Three more brothers dead. Three more friends lost. They were starting to pick up traffic and he slowed, allowing the coach to coast down to the speed limit. “Duck, find the nearest hospital, then call the cops. Tell them what happened and to meet us there.”
Duck swiped and tapped, using his good hand. “Stay on Eagle Pass until you get to the sixty-nine, then the Bob Bullock Loop.”
Kade nodded watching the
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