Grant pressed a pistol into Locke’s hand. He signed,
Locke holstered the pistol, then took Dilara’s hand and Grant’s good arm.
Now that he didn’t have to sign as he walked, he could move faster, but he was still limited by the leg and the need to be quiet. He estimated the exit was another 100 feet on their right.
They were moving along at a good clip and got 50 feet father along when Grant tripped on some unseen rock.
The rock went flying, smacking into the wall. Grant went down on his bad shoulder, dragging Dilara with him. Her helmet went skittering along the cave floor. Grant restrained a scream, but the resulting grunt was still loud enough.
“Gotcha!” Locke heard from behind him. The flashlight beam swung towards them and locked on. Garrett’s machine gun opened up, and bullets pinged on the floor and wall, but at this distance, in the darkness, his accuracy was terrible.
“Go!” Locke yelled. “I’ll cover!”
Grant got up, turned on his flashlight, and dragged Dilara after him.
Locke dove to the ground and started firing in Garrett’s direction.
Garrett knew he had them. It looked like Locke, Westfield, and Kenner had all survived, which meant that Cutter and Svetlana were dead. He didn’t feel anything for them. They were dead to him as soon as Locke had blasted their only way out. His grand plans were over, his vision for a New World ruined. The realization tore at him, and he silently raged at God’s unfairness. But he could still gain one more small satisfaction.
They wouldn’t be running like that if they had any firepower close to his. And where were they running to? Even though he had the amulet in his vest pocket, it didn’t matter. None of them were getting out of here, but Garrett wanted the pleasure of seeing Locke suffer first.
Garrett shined his flashlight from the cover of a wall. Nine millimeter rounds whizzed by him. Locke’s shots were close, but not close enough. All he had was a pistol, no match for Garrett’s machine gun.
He crouched and crabbed away from the wall, unloading the rest of the magazine in the direction of Locke’s prone form. He couldn’t see if any of the shots hit.
Garrett went back to the safety of the wall to reload. He peeked out and saw that the spot where Locke had been lying was empty except for a backpack. Locke had taken the few seconds when Garrett was reloading to get up and move, but to where?
Garrett heard grinding stone. It sounded like the motion of a huge rock from the other end of the Ark. From the wall. He also heard groans of people straining, then he saw something that astonished him.
It was faint, but it was there. A light from outside. Another exit. Of course! The wall at the back of the cave where Hasad Arvadi had directed him to three years ago wasn’t just a wall. There was a door!
He had a way out. And now, thanks to Locke, he could see in the darkness again. He pushed the starlight night vision goggles back down and flipped them on. Just as Cutter had told him, the faint light from outside was enough to make it look like the cavern was bathed in green sunlight.
His vision for a New World was still possible! God had answered his prayers.
He could see Grant Westfield and Dilara Kenner struggling to push the door open, but Locke wasn’t with them. Garrett leaned out to finish them, but three more shots from Locke’s pistol kept him pinned down.
Locke was somewhere among the vast number of ceramic urns at the opposite cave wall. If Garrett could zero in the exact one, the pottery would be easily shattered by the machine gun bullets, revealing Locke’s hiding place.
Westfield and Kenner strained at the door until the gap was wide enough for them to slip through. They disappeared through the opening.
Garrett scanned the urns again.
There! Behind three shoulder-height pots. Garrett could barely see the top of Locke’s helmet behind the middle urn. He stepped out from behind the wall and aimed the submachine gun at Locke’s head.
SEVENTY-ONE
Locke was down to his final two bullets, so he had to make them count. Dilara’s helmet was perched on top of the pot, and he was crouched on the ground with just enough room to see between the urns. He would only get one chance, and the infrared viewfinder in his helmet made it difficult for him to aim precisely. He didn’t want to waste the last two bullets on a low percentage shot.
Garrett’s glowing red form emerged from the wall with the weapon leveled at the top of the urns. He was right in Locke’s sights. It wasn’t going to get better than this. Locke targeted Garrett’s head. He fired at the same time Garrett did.
The sound of his two shots was drowned out by the crack of Garrett’s submachine gun. Shards of pottery showered down around Locke as he watched Garrett’s head snap backward. His body crumpled to the ground.
The slide of the pistol was locked back, indicating the magazine was indeed empty. Locke holstered it, stood, and limped over to Garrett. With the infrared goggles, he could see Garrett’s prone red form and the hot yellow gun lying between him and the wall.
He saw the bulb of Garrett’s flashlight still faintly glowing. He picked it up, clicked it on, and shined it on Garrett’s torso. The amulet was in his left vest pocket. While Locke fished it out, he pointed the light at Garrett’s face. Instead of a bullet hole in Garrett’s forehead, he saw the smashed Starlight goggles askew on his scalp.
Garrett’s eyes flew open, and Locke could see the rage in them. Before he could react, Garrett kicked him in the leg where the bullet wound was. Locke screamed in agony. He dropped the flashlight but kept hold of the amulet in his right hand. He was determined not to let it go again. Garrett leapt to his feet, threw the goggles aside, and crouched into a fighter’s stance.
Locke was just trying to keep from passing out from the pain. He focused on getting past Garrett to the submachine gun lying next to the wall.
“I want that amulet back,” Garrett said. He lunged, striking Locke in the chest and knocking the wind out of him, but Locke was able to swing his right hand around and smash the rock-hard amulet into Garrett’s head. Locke never heard a more satisfying sound than the smack of the orb against Garrett’s skull.
While Locke caught his breath, Garrett reeled backward, shook it off, then charged again. This time, Locke fell to his good knee and struck with an uppercut straight into Garrett’s solar plexus. Garrett doubled over, and Locke elbowed Garrett in the kidney, sending him to the ground.
Locke stood and began hobbling toward the submachine gun. Garrett, who recovered much faster than Locke anticipated, lashed out with his leg, tripping Locke onto his back. Garrett jumped onto Locke’s prone form, punching him with fury.
Locke reached up, grabbed Garrett by the back of the head with his left hand, and rammed his helmet into Garrett’s face. Blood gushed from Garrett’s ruined teeth and nose. Then with all his strength, Locke used his good leg to flip Garrett up and over his head. Only too late did he realize that Garrett was rolling toward the wall and the submachine gun.
Despite the pain of his splintered face, Garrett sensed the weapon lying under him, the barrel still warm. He spit blood from his mouth and grabbed the submachine gun. He sat up and fired wildly in the direction where Locke had just been.
The bullets hit only cave floor and pottery pieces. Garrett found Locke’s silhouette against the light streaming through the cave door. He was stumbling toward the exit, a backpack on his shoulder.
Garrett took off in pursuit, shooting as he ran. He wasn’t able to hit Locke before he went through the opening. Still, at the rate Locke was going, he wouldn’t get far.
It was sad, really, how close Locke had been to escaping. But it would make Garrett’s satisfaction all the sweeter. He’d follow Locke outside and gun him down just as he reached freedom.
Garrett reached the exit and peered through, ready for an ambush, but Locke was staggering toward the
