Eric Lustbader - The Testament

For a moment she lay sprawled on the road, dazed and despairing. Then she felt the rain on her face and, as if taking strength from it, managed to stagger to her feet. Her legs were rubbery, her knees weak; she was dizzy, and when she put her hand to the back of her head it came away smeared with blood.

In the car, Donatella had scooped up the gun.

Bravo waited until the FT Cruiser came to rest. By the dim glow cast by the streetlights north and south of their position, he saw that Jenny was in trouble. But it wasn't until he saw that Donatella was concentrated solely on her that he knew how best to help her. He ran through the swirling mist toward the car, mindful of the downed power cable. He periodically lost sight of his goal and, once, he felt certain that he was running in a circle and had missed it entirely. He stopped then and tried to gain his bearings, but it was like being adrift on a raft in the middle of the ocean. All landmarks were obscured and the light that fell on him seemed perfectly even, sourceless, so that he had no clear idea of which way was north or south. Then a small gap opened, and he caught a brief glimpse of painted metalwork and set off in that direction as fast as his legs would take him.

By the time he reached the car, both women had abandoned it, Donatella with the handgun. But almost at once he saw the sniper's rifle lying on the floor, and reaching in, he grabbed it.

Jenny, in a position that was rapidly becoming untenable, glimpsed Bravo through the oyster-gray mist and knew what she had to do to give herself the ghost of a chance. She ran, fell, picked herself up and on uncertain legs ran again.

Donatella, stalking her, saw the logic of her flight. If Jenny could get far enough away, she would be able to slip away into the mist. The thought of losing her now was intolerable, and Donatella sprinted headlong after her. There was a dim sparking toward which Jenny had headed, and this was the way she went.

Through the thick mist she saw movement, and then a figure, lithe and slim, became briefly visible. She aimed and fired even as she continued inexorably forward. The mist swirled as if stirred by a giant hand, and once again Jenny became visible. Donatella trained her gun on her foe and was about to squeeze the trigger when she heard a voice behind her.

"Drop your gun!"

She turned back, glimpsed Braverman Shaw behind the open car door pointing the Dragunov at her. She laughed to see how amateurishly he held the weapon. He wouldn't be able to hit her, even without the fog. She could kill him with one shot to the head. This she wanted to do more than anything else, and turning fully to face him, brought the muzzle of the gun to bear on him. She could sense Ivo near her, and she spoke to him under her breath so that he would know that his revenge was at hand.

"You heard me! Drop it now or-"

She squeezed the trigger.

Moments before, Jenny had reached her destination, but not in time. Donatella had already shot once, barely missing her. Now, as the mist parted, they could see each other. Jenny had only needed a moment longer, but it was not to be given to her. She held her breath as if that would better prepare her for the onrush of death.

Then Bravo called out and Donatella turned toward him. At once, Jenny crouched down, picked up the broken power cable. There was a buzzing like distant dry lightning or bees swarming and a light that seemed unnatural. As she stood up, she almost pitched over, so dizzy had she become. Her head hurt terribly and her heart was pounding painfully against her rib cage. Staggering forward, she thrust the live end of the cable out in front of her. It touched Donatella just as she pulled the trigger. Her body jerked and spasmed as she leapt a foot in the air. The stench of burned flesh and hair was palpable, making Jenny's gorge rise.

Bravo, who had seen the bullet go wide but did not see the cause, lost Donatella as the mist swirled in again, obscuring the scene. Without a second thought, he quit his position behind the open driver's door and ran, leaping over the utility pole, tearing past the battered truck.

He found Jenny, bloody and breathing hard, standing over Donatella's corpse. He was about to ask about the stench when he saw the power cable still in her left hand.

"Jenny, put it down," he said gently. "Put it down and move away."

For a long moment she did not move, then slowly she looked up at him.

"Jenny…" He slung the rifle and went over to her. Very carefully, he took hold of the cable with one hand and pried her fingers off it with the other. "It's over now," he said, pulling her back and away with him into the thickening mist.

But it wasn't over.

"I've got to go back," Jenny said.

"Back? Back where?"

"To see Kavanaugh."

"Jenny, we've got to get out of here. There isn't time."

"There's always time," she said, "to say good-bye."

She turned and Bravo went after her, through the underbrush.

He struggled to understand what she was feeling as she stared down the mess the bullets had made of Ronnie Kavanaugh's head and torso. He didn't look all that tough now.

After a moment, he stirred. "Jenny, please come away now. The police could show up at any moment, and if not the police, then motorists who can become potential witnesses to our involvement in two violent deaths."

She lingered for a moment longer, her lips moving silently. Then she nodded. "Let's get out of here."

They hurried back to Kavanaugh's Lincoln. On instinct, he told her he'd drive. She didn't put up a fight. Making a broken U-turn, he headed south, careful to keep to the posted speed limits. The two-lane road quickly became a four-lane thoroughfare and, not long after that, he was able to turn onto the highway. The Lincoln was comfortable and, more importantly, drove well. Kavanaugh had had the foresight to have it completely tricked out with satellite radio, rear object sensors and a global positioning system.

Within five miles, Bravo saw the lighted sign of a gas station. They used the grimy restrooms to clean themselves up as best they could and met back at the Lincoln. Jenny had managed to get all the blood off her, and her hair was glistening with water. When he bade her turn around, he held her hair away, moving her gently into the sodium lights. He could see that the wound was a scrape and that it had stopped bleeding.

"Okay?" he said.

Her eyes flashed and her tone was sharp. "Once and for all, let's get this straight: I'm protecting you."

A gentle breeze fully exposed the nape of her neck, the caramel skin glimmering, the bones beneath gently curved like sea glass. On impulse, he embraced her, holding her fast for a long moment. The instant he let go of her she climbed back into the car without saying a word or meeting his eyes.

Nearing the outskirts of Washington proper, he pulled into an all-night roadside diner, the only eatery open at this late hour. He chose a booth in back where he had a good view of the door and plate-glass window out onto the highway. Instinct had taken over without his being fully aware of it. Jenny sat staring out the window streaked with light and the ghostly reflections of faces. He waited, then ordered for both of them: coffee, eggs over easy, bacon, home fries for him, wheat toast.

When the food arrived, her eyes came back into focus. "I don't like bacon," she said.

Bravo reached over, put her bacon onto his plate. "You like eggs, I hope?"

She stared at him.

"Do you want something else with them?"

"I like potatoes."

Without a word, he used a spoon to transfer his home fries to her plate. He smiled at her as he began to eat.

An old couple paid their bill and left, a middle-aged man with a giant wobbly gut entered, made his way to the counter, his buttocks overflowing the stool, and ordered steak and fries. A young, heavily made-up woman with a lot of hair stood outside smoking. One hip was canted out; her leather skirt barely covered her upper thighs. A car pulled up and Bravo tensed. The heavily made-up woman stubbed out her cigarette and walked on stiletto heels toward the car. The door opened and with a practiced liquid move she slid in. The car drove off and Bravo exhaled softly and went back to his food. Inside the diner, there were perhaps a half dozen other characters. No one seemed to pay anyone else the slightest attention.