Zelazny, Roger - Novel 07 by Bridge of Ashes Page A

"Next time you'll know better," I
said. "Pull over by those trees up ahead and drop me off."
                   "Okay."
                   "That is not the plan," Quick said.
                   "No, but it's a better one," I said.
"If I can stay out of sight till after dark I can do a lot of hiking
before morning."
                   We reached the trees, came to a halt.
                   "See you around," I said.
                   I got out and headed away. The driver called
something after me. It sounded like "Good luck."
                   It was minutes later and some distance from
there that I heard the flier. I was under the trees, on the ground, motionless,
in a moment. I did not even look up. I just waited for it to pass.
                   But it did not.
                   The sounds of its engines reached a maximum
and held there. Finally, I looked up. It was circling.
                   Damn! Why? It had not been in sight when I had
gotten out. It should be looking for the car. Unless ... I spat out some dust.
Unless they had a personnel detector of some sort—infrared, a heat spotter—and
were scanning the area, had picked up my outline.
                   Yes, that had to be it. The flier was
beginning to descend.
                   The thing was dropping toward a clearing
several hundred meters off to my right. As soon as it had dropped below treetop
level, I was on my feet and heading off into the trees in the opposite
direction. It was not a large stand of wood, but when I emerged I saw where
another began across a rock-strewn slope of Russian thistle and chamisa, about
a quarter-mile away. I began running toward it. I grew short of breath sooner
than I had thought I might. Despite daily calisthenics, my months of
confinement had softened me.
                   I forced myself, breathing heavily, and did
not look back. Before I reached the trees, I heard a voice on a bullhorn:
"Halt! This is the police!"
                   I kept running.
                   "You are covered! We will shoot!
Halt!"
                   The first one would be a warning shot, I
figured, and the next would not be all that accurate. I was dizzy and my thighs
were beginning to hurt, but I was not about to halt.
                   I heard the first shot.
                   "That was a warning! Halt!"
                   There followed several more and I heard them
ricocheting nearby. I was not going to make it to the trees, I realized. I felt
on the verge of passing out. There were some rocks ahead, though....
                   More gunfire ...
                   I dove for the rocks, collapsed behind them,
lay there panting.
                   I expected another challenge, but none came.
The gunfire rattled on, but none of it seemed to be coming anywhere near me. I
peered around the side of the rock.
                   There were four police, three of them in prone
firing positions shooting back into the trees I had departed, the fourth
sprawled on his back, his limbs positioned unnaturally.
                   I panted until my head cleared, studying the
situation before me. Shortly, I realized that their fire was being returned.
Who ... ?
                   Of course. It was Quick. It had to be. He had
waited till I was out of sight and followed me, the stupid ass. Now he was
trying to delay them, in order to buy me time. Only he was likely to get
himself killed with such damnfoolery. My escape was not worth his life. I would
as soon go back and do some time as see him get shot over it. I would still be
alive. I would get out one day
                   It seemed from the fire pattern that he was
moving around in the wood. As I watched, trying to figure where he was, another
of the figures before me