Jason Frost - Badlands

"Come on," Eric said.

"I can't," she said softly to herself. "I can't make it."

And then she heard the pounding footsteps behind her and she knew she had no choice. She sprinted forward toward the dark ravine.

Fallows fired three shots into the air. "Leyson! Driscol! Rendall!" he shouted. "Come here!"

He watched Paige Lyons dashing for the ravine and saw Eric poised to catch her. He might be able to pick off one or both, but he was certain one of them had the tapes. And he didn't know which one. If he shot either of them right now, they were liable to go plunging right into the ravine, taking the tapes, his flight ticket aboard the shuttle, with them.

No rush. Soon she'd either be across or not. If not, well, he'd come up with something else. But if she made it, his men would be here soon anyway. Together they'd be able to finish both of them off.

Paige pushed off from the ground much too early, she realized immediately. Instead of waiting until she'd reached the edge, she'd panicked and started jumping at least two feet too soon. That meant she had to jump an extra two feet. She felt like she was all arms and legs as she floated through the air, the way she felt when she was a gawky twelve-year-old leaping from the high dive for the first time on a double dare from Rodney Belson.

She could see Eric through her good eye. He was stretched out on the ground, his feet anchored around some thick bush. For a moment they were face-level. But then she started dropping, and she was only a little more than halfway across. Her heart expanded until she was sure it was crushing the other internal organs. She forgot how to breathe. She began to fall, her hands straight over her head.

Eric snagged one of those hands, clamping her wrist in his fist. She knocked into the side of the cliff, scraping a few inches of skin from her forehead. Her weight dragged him a few inches over the edge of the cliff. But he had her, of that he was sure. He reeled her in, slowly pulling her up until she could crawl free from the edge.

Then he dove for his crossbow.

With both of them safe, Fallows lowered his Walther's sights on Eric's chest while Eric was busy cocking his crossbow. "Don't bother, Eric me boy," Fallows said under his breath as he tightened his finger around the trigger.

But a familiar sound behind him made him spin around in time to find Tim thumbing the single bullet into the clip and slamming the clip into the handle. Tim shoved the Walther into Fallows's face and fired.

Fallows had started dropping the moment he'd recognized the sound. That instinct saved his life. Tim's bullet whipped by Fallows's temple with less than an inch to spare. But the powder flash scorched Fallows's eyes and he dropped to his knees rubbing them. "Fucking bastard!" he shouted. "I could have saved you!"

Tim stood over Fallows, trying to decide whether or not to wrestle the gun from his hands and finish him off.

Eric watched the scene from across the ravine, knowing what Tim was thinking. And knowing that Tim wouldn't have a chance. Even blind, Fallows could kill Tim instantly if he got his hands on him. He could kill Fallows himself with a shot of the crossbow.

He heard the rustling of brush, the sound of men running.

There wasn't time to kill Fallows and try to save Tim. It had to be one or the other. He didn't hesitate.

"Grab my legs," he ordered Paige. "Hold tight." He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted to Tim. "Run, Tim. Run, son, I'll catch you."

Tim looked at his father, hesitated. Even now he remembered the things Fallows had said about his father. They couldn't be true, he felt that inside. But still, he hesitated.

The sound of Fallows's men was louder.

Fallows staggered to his feet, still rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

"Run, Tim!" Eric called again.

And Tim ran. Hard and fast and with tears in his eyes as each step brought him closer to his father.

A shot cracked the air and Tim felt something bump the back of his thigh. Felt the leg fold under him. Felt himself tumbling toward the edge of the ravine.

"Timmmm!" his father screamed.

Tim dug into the ground, despite his wounded right leg. He stopped rolling a good ten feet from the edge of the cliff. He looked over his shoulder and saw Fallows squinting through one eye, holding the smoking Walther. "He's mine, Eric. My son now!"

Behind Fallows his men emerged from the woods, their M-16s and shotguns lowered for action.

Eric saw it was hopeless. He couldn't save Tim. Not this time. It would be all he could do to get himself and Paige out alive. He looked down at his son's dirty face, saw the blood seeping from his leg. The pain contorting his young face. And that look in his eyes, the look of abandonment. That look lodged in Eric's heart like a splinter.

Fallows and his men opened fire.

"Stay down," Eric said to Paige. "At this angle they can't hit us as long as we stay flat." Their bellies to the ground, Eric and Paige crawled away.

Behind him, Eric heard Tim's cry: "Father!"

When they were safely in the woods, Paige laid her hand on Eric's arm. "Eric."

"With Fallows and Tim wounded, we'll easily beat them back to your plane."

"Eric," she repeated. There were tears in her eyes.

Eric walked away. "Don't say anything, OK? Anything."

"Christ, Paige!" was all Bart Piedmont could say as he and Daryl Budd carried her up into the belly of the Columbia.

Eric tagged behind them while Phil La Porte kept guard outside.

Tracy was waiting outside, hobbling about pretty spryly on her bad leg. Piedmont had put a real cast on the leg and she got about with a cane someone had cut for her from a branch. Tracy looked at both of them. "You're sure hell on women, Eric."

Paige laughed, winced from her split lip. "We were fine until he wanted to dance. The man's just too clumsy."

Tracy and Paige laughed together, one of those shared womanly laughs that Eric didn't pretend to understand. He just smiled at them, pleased they were able to find something to laugh about.

"How secure are we, sir?" Daryl Budd, all business, asked. Eric had to admire the guy's sense of duty.

"We've got a couple hours on them, I'd say. Maybe three hours, but I wouldn't want to bet on it. You'd better take off before then."

"Right, sir."

"What the hell happened out there?" Bart Piedmont demanded. "Did you find your father, Paige?"

Paige told the whole story, carefully, precisely. Eric marvelled at her recall of details and even dialogue.

As Paige spoke, Tracy put her arms around Eric and held him. She didn't have to hear the story to know what had happened. Eric was back, but Tim wasn't. That's all that mattered. At least Tim was still alive, but then so was Fallows.

Bart Piedmont listened as he tended Paige's wounds, cleaning and dressing her face. He could see the blood where it had seeped through her clothes. "Any other wounds I should take a look at?"

Paige brushed him away. "Not until you've at least bought me dinner."

"That can be arranged."

She stood up slowly. "Get this thing ready to take off, Bart."

"Aye, aye, Captain Kirk." He mock saluted. He turned to Eric and Tracy and smiled. "Fasten yourselves in, folks. We wouldn't want any of our passengers getting hurt."

Tracy knew what Eric would say, so she said it for him. "Thanks, Bart. Really. But we'll have to wait for the next train. There's still one passenger we've got to find."

"Tracy-" Bart started.

"Hey, I've already seen the in-flight movie." Tracy reached for her backpack. "See, I told you it was smart to pack this thing up this morning, just in case." She grabbed one of the HK 93s. "And this makes a nice little going-away present."

"Except that you're not going anywhere," Eric said. He took the pack and gun from her.