Thomas Perry - Runner

Carl heard one of the car doors open and shut, and the sound of the car engine as one of the two men moved the car off the road and parked it on the shoulder, then the same thing repeated as they moved the other car. Then there was silence again. He couldn't move his head enough to see, but he supposed they were sitting together talking inside one of the cars, while he was out here in the open, alone and helpless. After a while Carl heard more cars approaching from a distance.

Steve Demming got out of the car and leaned against the hood while he watched the headlights of the two women's vehicles coming toward him. The hot, humid air outside the car reminded him of how alien this place was to him. San Diego air was dry and flowing, either fresh from the ocean or fresh from the desert. This air was thick with moisture, and it seemed heavy, like something draped on him. As he waited, it seemed to him that the chirping of crickets was growing even louder. He sighed. This should have been a simple, easy errand, like going to pick up a stray dog at a pound. It occurred to him that he was as miserable at this moment as he had been in his life.

The two cars dipped forward a bit as the two women applied their brakes, and then they rolled off onto the shoulder. When they stopped, their headlights illuminated big clouds of dust in the air. One set of lights went out, and Demming saw the tall, slender shape of Sybil Landreau silhouetted for a moment in the headlights of the other car before the second set of headlights went out. A moment later he saw Claudia's shorter form trotting toward him. The two women joined Demming at the front of his car. "How bad is he?" asked Claudia.

"Bad," Demming said. "He can barely breathe. If you listen, you can probably hear it from here. When I talked to him, I think he was trying to move, but he didn't seem to be able to."

Sybil said, "Think it's his spine?"

"It could be."

Claudia walked to the spot where Carl McGinnis lay. She knelt in the weeds beside him, put a small, soft hand on his forehead, and then gently stroked his hair. "Carl," she murmured. "Carlos, Carlito. I heard you got clipped. How ya doin', baby?"

"I ... I don't know," Carl said. "Maybe the four of you should start getting me into one of the cars. I think I need to get to a hospital."

"Can you walk?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, but I don't want to try and make things worse. I think my left hip might be broken. That whole side hurts like hell." He tried to move his head to see her clearly. "Claudia, honey. It's really late. Before too long, the sun is going to start coming up. I can't be lying here when that happens."

"I'll go talk to the others and see how we're going to do it," she said. "Just close your eyes and try to rest for a minute. Getting you into the car might be a bitch, so try to prepare yourself and save your strength."

Claudia got up and went back to join the others. Pete Tilton was out of the car now, too. He and Demming and Sybil looked at Claudia expectantly.

"He's really fucked-up," she said. "He winced when I touched his hair. His hair hurts, for Christ's sake. He thinks his left hip might be broken, but if the car caught him in the midsection, he could easily be bleeding to death inside."

Sybil shrugged. "I've got a bad feeling about this. We can't drop him off at a local hospital. They'll fill him up with painkillers while the cops ask him questions."

"I've been thinking about that, too," Demming said. "There's no way we can go in and talk for him. If he can't walk, we can't drop him off at the door."

"No way," Sybil said.

Demming said, "And every minute we stand here, Christine Monahan gets another mile away." He and Sybil and Pete Tilton looked at Claudia.

"I'll do it," she said. "I was the one who invited him to work with us, and he's still closer to me than he is to anyone else."

Sybil's body slouched and her head cocked, and the others knew she was giving her familiar smirk. "Something's closer than fucking? What did you do?"

Claudia felt her jaw clench. "He trusts me."

"I'm sorry," Sybil said. "I'll help you with it."

"I don't want him to know. Hold his hand, be nice to him, and I'll do the work."

"Okay."

When Carl McGinnis heard the small, light footsteps coming toward him, he knew it must be both women. Claudia sat above him on the slope and cradled his head in her lap, while Sybil held his hand. "Hey," he said. "Did you get her?"

"Sure," Claudia said. "We ran her off the road. She's not in great shape, but it's over. She's in the trunk of my car."

"Good. How about the other one?"

"She's dead," said Sybil.

"Good," said Carl. He was trying to hide the fact that he was getting more worried. He had felt intervals of cold, and then repeated waves of light-headedness, and he assumed that must mean he was getting weaker. "I really think...," he said, then felt the pain find him. Getting past it was like climbing a hill, struggling as it got worse until he reached the crest and it went down again. "We've got to go. The guys. Tell Pete and Steve not to worry. I won't tell anybody anything. I was driving down this country road, got out to take a piss, and a car whacked me."

"Must happen all the time out here," said Sybil.

"They know you're going to be okay," Claudia said.

Sybil said, "They're just trying to put together a stretcher." She looked at Claudia. "I guess it's time for me to pull the car up." She relinquished his hand and kissed his cheek, then got up and moved off in the dark.

Claudia said, "Hold on a minute, Carl. The dumb bastards need me." She gently moved back, disengaging herself. Carl heard her take a few steps up the slope to the shoulder. He lost sight of her, and then the bullet passed through his brain. Claudia came back a few feet, just far enough from his body so the blowback wouldn't spatter blood on her clothes, and shot him again.

CHRISTINE TWISTED in her seat to look out the back window. Watching the empty road behind them for a few minutes seemed to calm her. She faced forward again and adjusted her seat belt. "I'm sorry. I'm scared to death. I've been scared for weeks. I've been moving around, and the most sleep I've had was in that crazy house back there. I sort of lost it."

"It's all right. All of this is scary, for both of us. But we're okay, at least for now."

Christine sat quietly for a time, and then said, "You ran down Carl McGinnis."

"Is that who that was?"

"I saw his face in the headlights. Afterward it looked to me as though he was hurt really bad."

"It was all I could do once he took out the gun."

"Believe me, I'm not blaming you. I hate him. He gives me the creeps. He has a way of looking at you that makes you want to back away from him. Once I was leaving work when he was walking across the parking lot, and honestly, I got in the car as fast as I could, locked the doors, and started the engine in case he tried to get in." She looked at Jane. "Maybe the one who drove the car into the ditch is hurt, too."

"I couldn't tell, but I wouldn't count on it. More likely the air bag went off, and he couldn't drive after us right away."

"She, I think."

"She?"

"I'm pretty sure the other man I saw at the roadblock with Carl McGinnis was Pete Tilton. There was a third car, and the person in it probably was Steve Demming. That means the two coming up behind us would have to be Sybil Landreau and Claudia Marshall." She looked at Jane again, and noticed her preoccupied expression. "What's wrong?"

"Just thinking," said Jane. "How could they possibly have known where to ambush us?"

"I don't know."

"Let me make sure I've got everything straight," said Jane. "You knew these six people because they worked for Richard Beale in San Diego when you did."

"That's right. They didn't exactly work for the Beale Company, because they weren't on the payroll. But I never heard of them working for anybody else but Richard."