Aimée Thurlo - Restless Wind

Dana couldn’t help but notice that Ranger seemed ready-almost eager-for a fight. Ranger wanted…maybe needed…action. Pain took many forms.

When he reached the entrance, Ranger suddenly froze. She followed his gaze and, even in the moonlight, could see the dark imprint of a boot just below the door lock. That, and the splintered trim, told them both that the door had been kicked in.

Either from their movement across the old wooden porch, or because of a slight increase in the breeze, the door swung back about an inch. Her heart started to beat so fiercely she could hear it pounding in her head. Through the haze that clouded her mind she felt Ranger grip her forearm.

“Get back in the truck,” he whispered.

She was turning around when, from somewhere inside the house, she heard a metallic click.

Ranger pushed her out of the way, then kicked the door just below the knob. It slammed into whomever was standing just on the other side.

There was a groan, then a thud, as the intruder crashed to the floor. A shot went off an instant later, shattering the glass transom just above the door.

Ranger grabbed her hand and they ran to the truck. Dana dove inside the passenger’s seat while Ranger took the wheel.

“Stay down!” he said.

She ducked, looking over as Ranger turned the key and the souped-up engine roared to life. She heard gravel flying as they lurched forward, and took the turn onto the lane faster than she’d ever imagined possible.

Dana bumped her head against the door as she raised up to see how fast they were going. “Slow down!” she yelled. “You’ll lose control.”

“I won’t lose control,” he said in a surprisingly even tone. “But you’re gonna want to fasten your shoulder belt.”

As she clicked it in place, she saw a bright flash of light in the passenger-side mirror. “A truck came around from behind my house. Now someone is getting in. They’re going to chase us!” Her voice went up an octave.

“They won’t catch us, not in this truck. Now hang on.”

Ranger turned sharply to the right onto the eastbound lane, roared down a hundred yards to a bypass, then made a hard left turn, reversing directions and heading west.

Dana saw their enemies enter the highway, passing in the opposite direction across the median. A few seconds later, the vehicle had made the same maneuver as them, and came up right behind them. “They’ve got a huge truck, loads bigger than this one!”

He glanced in the rearview mirror, at the same time finally turning on his own headlights. “Six-wheeled pickup. Hot, but it’s just a stock model.” He reached into his jacket and tossed her his cell phone. “We’ll be back on the reservation in five minutes. Press nine. That’ll connect you straight to the tribal police. Sergeant Sonny Buck. Tell him what’s happened, and give him our location.”

She pressed the number. It only rang once before a man answered. “Sergeant Buck.”

Dana spoke clearly, but her words came out as fast as her racing pulse. “At least one of the men is armed. He took a shot at us.”

“You’re on highway sixty-four?”

“Yes, heading west, approaching the curve around Hogback.”

“We’ll send backup from Shiprock. Can you lose them?”

She relayed the question to Ranger, who was concentrating on his driving.

“I can’t outrun them without endangering those people in the slow-moving cars up ahead. That means the punks chasing us are going to close in.”

Dana found and pressed the speaker on the phone so that the sergeant could hear Ranger directly and vice versa.

“You’ve got backup on the way, Ranger. Until then, use your best judgment,” the sergeant said.

Ranger focused on the two cars they were quickly approaching. The cars were side-by-side, taking up both lanes. Judging from the four or five heads sticking out the various car windows and all the waving going on, it looked like two carloads of teens talking back and forth.

He might be able to get around them by passing on the outside shoulder, but to do that and maintain control he’d have to slow down. He flipped on the emergency flashers, hoping to get the attention of the drivers ahead. A girl in one of the cars looked back and waved, laughing.

The driver chasing Dana and Ranger wasn’t acting as friendly. As Ranger cut his speed and whipped to the right, the six-wheeler came up on them quickly. Ranger glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a man with a skinhead haircut lean out of the passenger’s window, aiming an auto-loader handgun.

Ranger weaved more to the right, trying to throw off his aim. “He’s trying to shoot out a tire,” he said. “Hold on.”

As Ranger rotated the steering wheel back to the left, two shots rang out, but both missed the wheels and ricocheted off the pavement, clanging into the bed somewhere near the tailgate.

The gunshots got the attention of the teen drivers immediately. The kids at the windows ducked back inside and the driver on the right braked hard, swerving onto the shoulder. The driver on the left side pulled into the right lane and accelerated immediately.

Ranger whipped the pickup to the left again, speeding past both teen vehicles. “Finally a little more highway.”

The six-wheeler was right on their tail, and the heavy vehicle’s massive bumper struck their lighter pickup in the right side of the tailgate. Physics took over. Ranger fought to keep them from rolling over as they skidded at an angle down the asphalt. Trying to straighten out their vehicle meant running onto the center median and into the drainage channel. “Hang on!” he shouted.

Dana clung to the arm rest and the seat, staring ahead in horror as they went on the carnival ride from Hell. They bounced hard, nearly running up the other side onto oncoming traffic, before Ranger could steer away without flipping them. He braked hard, and they slid down the center of the shallow trough, throwing up a cloud of dust. Their pickup came to rest just inches from a culvert.

Ranger glanced in the right-side mirror. “They’ve pulled off to the median behind us, and are getting out of their truck. Get your head down low, like you bumped your head. And stay down. When they get here, I’ll handle it.”

“But-”

“There’s no time to explain,” he whispered, slumping down and lolling his head back and against the windowsill on the left, as if he were injured. “Trust me.”

Using the side mirror, he saw them coming up the drainage ditch. His left hand was low, on the door latch.

“Stay in the car, no matter what happens next,” he whispered, unfastening his seat belt with his thumb and letting it wind up.

He kept the engine running, listening to it. He knew this truck’s engine as well as he knew his own heartbeat. It was still growling, low and deep, raring to go.

Biding his time, Ranger watched the pair inch closer. Then the chunkier, muscle-laden weightlifter-type with the buzz cut picked up his pace, holding the auto-loader casually down by his side. Ranger closed his eyes, feigning unconsciousness, and listened for their approach.

The footsteps stopped, close, and Ranger could hear the man breathing. Putting his entire upper body into the move, Ranger suddenly threw open the door. The metal panel slammed into the weightlifter’s stomach. As the man stumbled back, Ranger jumped out and kicked the knee of the second man, the driver. The man screamed in pain and reeled back, but Ranger threw up a roundhouse kick, slamming him in the temple. The man went down hard, out for the count.

Ranger spun to face the beefy guy, who was on his knees among the weeds, searching frantically for his pistol. Suddenly Dana rushed forward, a two-foot piece of split pine, perhaps lost from a load of firewood, in her hand. She swung and coldcocked the man squarely on the head. He fell forward like a sack of flour.