“I don’t like it any more than you do,” he said. “But—”
A loud rap on the door interrupted him.
“We’re moving out,” Syd said, voice tinged with impatience. “You kids coming along?”
Kelly replied, “We’ll be right there.”
Mark opened his eyes. The van was filled with dense, acrid smoke. He coughed to clear his lungs, struggling to see.
He was lying on his back with a body sprawled across his legs. The van had come to rest on the passenger side. The driver’s head split the windshield, glass shards fragmenting the night sky into a dark constellation. It didn’t look like he’d be coming around anytime soon. Or probably ever again.
A muffled groan as the figure by his feet shifted: Decker.
Mark turned his head. No sign of the guy who had triggered the explosion. He looked for the LMT, couldn’t find it. Shit.
Mark struggled up to sitting and nudged Decker’s shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah, think so.” Decker said blearily.
“We gotta go,” Mark said.
“Right.” Decker awkwardly pushed off his legs and climbed stiffly into the rear of the van. Mark followed him.
There was an enormous hole in the middle of what had been the van’s floor. So the bomb hadn’t been wired to kill everyone, just them, Mark thought. Flores and Kaplan were crumpled on top of one another. Scarface, or what was left of him, was scattered across the interior. He must have been directly above the bomb when it blew, absorbing most of the blast. Thank God for small favors.
“Where’s Sock?” Decker asked. There was no sign of him. The rear door was open; through it Mark could see dirt and scrub brush. He heard a car passing by, not too far away. The van had rolled a few times, but they were probably still close to the highway. Mark went to check Flores and Kaplan.
They were both covered in blood, though it was impossible to tell how much of it had come from Scarface. He eased Flores off Kaplan. Flores started in response.
“Wha—”
“You okay, man?” Mark asked.
Flores raised a hand to his face. It came away bloody. “This mine?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Anything hurt?”
“Shit, everything hurts.” Flores slowly moved his arms and legs. “But I don’t think I’m bleeding.”
Decker was bent over Kaplan. “He’s hurt,” he said. “Pretty bad.”
Mark joined him. Kaplan was still unconscious, his face so pale it glowed in the dark interior. Carefully they turned him over. A bloodstain the size of a quarter marked the exit wou
“At least it passed through,” Decker said.
“You have EMT training, right?” Mark asked. Decker nodded.
“All right.” Mark checked the interior again, hoping to find some sort of weapon, but there was nothing useful. “We’ve got to move out. Chances are hostiles will be here soon. Do what you can to stop the bleeding. We’ll take shifts carrying him.”
“What about Sock?”
“What about him?” A voice boomed from outside. Sock suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“What happened to you?” Decker asked.
“Came to and that asshole was heading out. Thought I’d try to stop him.”
“So where is he?” Mark asked. Sock looked largely unharmed, which was almost miraculous considering how close he’d been to the blast.
Sock looked away. “Bastard was too fast. But we gotta get moving. I think he had a phone on him. Got this, though.” He held up the LMT.
“I didn’t hear any shots fired,” Mark said.
“Couldn’t get a clear line of sight,” Sock retorted. “Figured I’d save the ammo.”
“Kaplan got hit,” Flores said.
“Yeah?” Sock glanced over. “We leaving him?”
“Never leave a man behind,” Mark said, surprised. “We’ll take shifts carrying him.”
“Carrying him where?” Sock asked dubiously.
Mark didn’t answer. He climbed out of the van, easing past Kaplan, Flores and Decker. The air felt cool on his face. Dawn was breaking over the mountains. To the west, city lights shimmered through a
A loud rap on the door interrupted him.
“We’re moving out,” Syd said, voice tinged with impatience. “You kids coming along?”
Kelly replied, “We’ll be right there.”
Mark opened his eyes. The van was filled with dense, acrid smoke. He coughed to clear his lungs, struggling to see.
He was lying on his back with a body sprawled across his legs. The van had come to rest on the passenger side. The driver’s head split the windshield, glass shards fragmenting the night sky into a dark constellation. It didn’t look like he’d be coming around anytime soon. Or probably ever again.
A muffled groan as the figure by his feet shifted: Decker.
Mark turned his head. No sign of the guy who had triggered the explosion. He looked for the LMT, couldn’t find it. Shit.
Mark struggled up to sitting and nudged Decker’s shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah, think so.” Decker said blearily.
“We gotta go,” Mark said.
“Right.” Decker awkwardly pushed off his legs and climbed stiffly into the rear of the van. Mark followed him.
There was an enormous hole in the middle of what had been the van’s floor. So the bomb hadn’t been wired to kill everyone, just them, Mark thought. Flores and Kaplan were crumpled on top of one another. Scarface, or what was left of him, was scattered across the interior. He must have been directly above the bomb when it blew, absorbing most of the blast. Thank God for small favors.
“Where’s Sock?” Decker asked. There was no sign of him. The rear door was open; through it Mark could see dirt and scrub brush. He heard a car passing by, not too far away. The van had rolled a few times, but they were probably still close to the highway. Mark went to check Flores and Kaplan.
They were both covered in blood, though it was impossible to tell how much of it had come from Scarface. He eased Flores off Kaplan. Flores started in response.
“Wha—”
“You okay, man?” Mark asked.
Flores raised a hand to his face. It came away bloody. “This mine?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Anything hurt?”
“Shit, everything hurts.” Flores slowly moved his arms and legs. “But I don’t think I’m bleeding.”
Decker was bent over Kaplan. “He’s hurt,” he said. “Pretty bad.”
Mark joined him. Kaplan was still unconscious, his face so pale it glowed in the dark interior. Carefully they turned him over. A bloodstain the size of a quarter marked the exit wou
“At least it passed through,” Decker said.
“You have EMT training, right?” Mark asked. Decker nodded.
“All right.” Mark checked the interior again, hoping to find some sort of weapon, but there was nothing useful. “We’ve got to move out. Chances are hostiles will be here soon. Do what you can to stop the bleeding. We’ll take shifts carrying him.”
“What about Sock?”
“What about him?” A voice boomed from outside. Sock suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“What happened to you?” Decker asked.
“Came to and that asshole was heading out. Thought I’d try to stop him.”
“So where is he?” Mark asked. Sock looked largely unharmed, which was almost miraculous considering how close he’d been to the blast.
Sock looked away. “Bastard was too fast. But we gotta get moving. I think he had a phone on him. Got this, though.” He held up the LMT.
“I didn’t hear any shots fired,” Mark said.
“Couldn’t get a clear line of sight,” Sock retorted. “Figured I’d save the ammo.”
“Kaplan got hit,” Flores said.
“Yeah?” Sock glanced over. “We leaving him?”
“Never leave a man behind,” Mark said, surprised. “We’ll take shifts carrying him.”
“Carrying him where?” Sock asked dubiously.
Mark didn’t answer. He climbed out of the van, easing past Kaplan, Flores and Decker. The air felt cool on his face. Dawn was breaking over the mountains. To the west, city lights shimmered through a
Similar Books
