among so many others.
But these two had paid off handsomely.
As the automatic fire continued to blister the upper part of the frame, Kimberlain pushed off with his legs in order to angle his body through the hole in the floor. The night and the gunmen’s attention on their firing would shield him well enough. There were three of them, one on the driver’s side of the Pathfinder, one at the front, and one at the rear. This left the passenger side for him, the side flanking the sidewalk and the chain link fence enclosing the construction site. He would have little room to maneuver, but he wouldn’t need much; his mind had already pinned the location of the gunmen within inches.
Kimberlain emerged through the open floor panel headfirst. His arms trailed quickly behind and positioned themselves to support his weight as he lowered the rest of himself out. From there he pulled himself toward the sidewalk and slid out onto it.
Its top crushed, the vehicle would provide him no cover once he rose. He would have to shoot and keep shooting, relying on surprise to buy him the seconds he needed.
At last the machine-gun fire ceased. Kimberlain rose into a crouch. He was pressed too close against the Pathfinder’s shell to see any of the gunmen, but he had glimpsed all three sets of their legs from underneath the truck. He held his ground as one of the gunmen approached slowly from the driver’s side. The Ferryman waited until the approaching gunman had reached the remains of the door, waited until all his attention was focused on peering in to check for the victim’s body. Then Kimberlain sprang, rising up over the crushed form of the vehicle. He shot the man at the Pathfinder’s rear first and was rotating the barrel fast around even as the man’s head snapped backward. His next three shells slammed into the gunman at the front. By this point the closest of the assailants had lurched back from his inspection of the demolished cab, finger on the trigger. The instinctive maneuver actually placed him square in the Ferryman’s sights. Kimberlain fired twice, both head shots, and the man crumpled with his face reduced to pulp.
Kimberlain’s breathing steadied. He hesitated briefly and then emerged from behind the Pathfinder’s remains to inspect his handiwork. The muted sound of a shoe heel grazing the asphalt reached him. He was airborne in the next instant, his body vacating the area where a hail of automatic bullets rained down.
There had been a fourth gunman!
Machine-gun bullets traced him and coughed shards of asphalt into the air. He tried to right himself to get off at least a token shot, but another flurry of bullets from the gunman ricocheted off the Pathfinder’s carcass. One of them clamored against his Sig Sauer and sent it flying. He flailed for it briefly before another barrage forced him into a second dive.
He found himself against the chain link fence now with only one place left to go. The pause in gunfire told him the yet unseen gunman was changing clips. Kimberlain hurled himself over the fence and onto the brief bit of hard ground that rimmed the shell-like dormitory building. He took cover behind the site’s construction trailer. Before him was an unfinished doorway that lacked even a threshold of steps. His mind calculated his options and found only one.
Bullets chewing the air around him, the Ferryman lurched into the unfinished building.
Inside, he pressed himself against a wall and waited, in case the last gunman elected to follow him through. The wail of sirens was in his ears now. Perhaps the prospect of arriving authorities had led his final assailant to flee, but Kimberlain didn’t think so. More likely he had entered the cavernous, dimly lit building through another doorway and was stalking the Ferryman now.
With that in mind, Kimberlain began to move. His pursuer had no reason to rush. He knew the Ferryman was weaponless, that the only thing working against him—both of them, in many
But these two had paid off handsomely.
As the automatic fire continued to blister the upper part of the frame, Kimberlain pushed off with his legs in order to angle his body through the hole in the floor. The night and the gunmen’s attention on their firing would shield him well enough. There were three of them, one on the driver’s side of the Pathfinder, one at the front, and one at the rear. This left the passenger side for him, the side flanking the sidewalk and the chain link fence enclosing the construction site. He would have little room to maneuver, but he wouldn’t need much; his mind had already pinned the location of the gunmen within inches.
Kimberlain emerged through the open floor panel headfirst. His arms trailed quickly behind and positioned themselves to support his weight as he lowered the rest of himself out. From there he pulled himself toward the sidewalk and slid out onto it.
Its top crushed, the vehicle would provide him no cover once he rose. He would have to shoot and keep shooting, relying on surprise to buy him the seconds he needed.
At last the machine-gun fire ceased. Kimberlain rose into a crouch. He was pressed too close against the Pathfinder’s shell to see any of the gunmen, but he had glimpsed all three sets of their legs from underneath the truck. He held his ground as one of the gunmen approached slowly from the driver’s side. The Ferryman waited until the approaching gunman had reached the remains of the door, waited until all his attention was focused on peering in to check for the victim’s body. Then Kimberlain sprang, rising up over the crushed form of the vehicle. He shot the man at the Pathfinder’s rear first and was rotating the barrel fast around even as the man’s head snapped backward. His next three shells slammed into the gunman at the front. By this point the closest of the assailants had lurched back from his inspection of the demolished cab, finger on the trigger. The instinctive maneuver actually placed him square in the Ferryman’s sights. Kimberlain fired twice, both head shots, and the man crumpled with his face reduced to pulp.
Kimberlain’s breathing steadied. He hesitated briefly and then emerged from behind the Pathfinder’s remains to inspect his handiwork. The muted sound of a shoe heel grazing the asphalt reached him. He was airborne in the next instant, his body vacating the area where a hail of automatic bullets rained down.
There had been a fourth gunman!
Machine-gun bullets traced him and coughed shards of asphalt into the air. He tried to right himself to get off at least a token shot, but another flurry of bullets from the gunman ricocheted off the Pathfinder’s carcass. One of them clamored against his Sig Sauer and sent it flying. He flailed for it briefly before another barrage forced him into a second dive.
He found himself against the chain link fence now with only one place left to go. The pause in gunfire told him the yet unseen gunman was changing clips. Kimberlain hurled himself over the fence and onto the brief bit of hard ground that rimmed the shell-like dormitory building. He took cover behind the site’s construction trailer. Before him was an unfinished doorway that lacked even a threshold of steps. His mind calculated his options and found only one.
Bullets chewing the air around him, the Ferryman lurched into the unfinished building.
Inside, he pressed himself against a wall and waited, in case the last gunman elected to follow him through. The wail of sirens was in his ears now. Perhaps the prospect of arriving authorities had led his final assailant to flee, but Kimberlain didn’t think so. More likely he had entered the cavernous, dimly lit building through another doorway and was stalking the Ferryman now.
With that in mind, Kimberlain began to move. His pursuer had no reason to rush. He knew the Ferryman was weaponless, that the only thing working against him—both of them, in many
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