“Is that why everyone was shooting at us?” Haley asked.
“I don’t know,” Ezra replied. “If they really thought we were with TKM, then I suppose they figured we were with these miners. Lucky for us. I’d be pissed too, if someone came to my town and started extracting ore while I was stuck in a tent.” He looked over his shoulder, to make sure the light show and gun attacks were over. While there were still a few pops of fireworks taking place, he was no longer able to see more than their tops.
The dark blotch of the lake piqued his curiosity as he sped toward the fallen piece of space rock. The shorelines were about a mile north to south, giving him plenty of room to skirt around the recovery zone. However, there was so much light glaring off the dig site, his boat was impossible to miss.
A guy on a crane leveled his rifle and fired.
“Down!” he ordered.
Other shooters immediately joined in, no doubt expecting trouble after such an extended and deafening warning from down the river.
Three or four pings struck against the hull of the boat. Unlike the citizens on the shoreline, the men in the mining camp seemed qualified to hit moving targets. He imagined more of the TKM goons who’d been following them on the bridges. Did they call ahead, after all? Or was he simply another enemy to be shot on sight for daring to get close to their treasure?
He swerved, starting evasive maneuvers.
“You guys really pissed off the gods, didn’t you?” Haley asked from her hiding spot.
“I swear we didn’t try!” he replied, ducking as more shots came out of the night.
“Do we shoot back?” Butch asked, rifle already in hand.
He’d hesitated shooting into a crowd of innocent people, but these guys weren’t innocent. It seemed not only justified, but appropriate. “Let ’er rip!”
The boat skimmed over the calm waters of the lake, giving Butch and Haley the chance to situate themselves along the right side of the railing. The veteran fighter helped Haley line up her shots, then they both opened fire.
“Shoot for the guys on the cranes!” Butch ordered.
For the next thirty seconds, Ezra held his breath. The outboard was cranked all the way to maximum, spitting out three hundred fifty-horsepower, giving him at least fifty miles an hour. They made their way around the excavation. A dozen empty barges were moored upriver from the site, giving a hint at how much they intended to harvest.
A bullet snapped off the engine housing, then five or six spurts of water erupted a short way off his starboard side. There was no hiding in darkness. No swerving necessary. At that moment, going around the rock, Susan’s Grace presented a juicy profile to the attackers. It was the most vulnerable point in their escape.
Another bullet cracked into the engine, causing it to spurt and sputter for a few seconds before going back to normal.
“Thank God,” he said to himself.
Butch and Haley poured on return fire, but it was futile. They could only aim for sparks of light where they thought the shooters were perched. None of them stood in plain sight. As best he could tell, none of them fell to their deaths like in the movies. Still, it was a comforting sight to watch his friends fight back.
If they were on a clock, and the rock was the center point of the lake, he figured they’d made it to about the ten o’clock position before the engine sputtered again. The boat lurched forward as if the prop stopped spinning for a few seconds. Then it restarted.
“Uh, we’ve got issues,” he said, his voice steeped in fear. If they stopped for good in the middle of the lake, they’d be in worse shape than sitting ducks. They’d be sitting ducks with huge spotlights pointed at them. “Come on,” he coaxed his boat.
The motor resumed its powerful thrust, giving him hope they were going to make it. They creeped toward the eleven o’clock position, putting a little added distance between them and the shooters. However, another couple of rounds rattled the pontoons, then cracked into the plastic housing of the motor. A shower of sparks made him crumple into his seat.
“Dang!” he blurted.
The motor stopped abruptly. The boat immediately lost its momentum, stopping completely after a few dozen yards. They were at the edge of the lighted shooting gallery but were upriver. If they floated free, they’d go back toward the mining equipment. “I think we have to get off the boat,” he said evenly.
More rounds came in. His nightmare about being an easy target was coming to life as he sat in his comfy seat looking at the broken depth finder.
“Uh, what?” Butch asked with fear in his voice.
Ezra scooted off his chair and scampered over to Haley. “Butch can’t swim. You have to help him.” As an afterthought, he asked her a follow up question. “You can swim, right?”
“Of course. But he’s twice my size. It might take some time.”
Butch looked back toward the motor. “You want to try the engine again? Maybe it’s still working…”
“It’s not,” he snapped. “We’ve joked about it, but this time you really have to jump.”
He gathered his rifle, as well as his backpack. He also yanked Butch’s rifle out of his hands. “I’ll get this to shore for you. Right now, I need you to go with Haley.”
“In the water?” the big man asked, dubious of the answer.
“Yes. Get in the damned water!” There wasn’t a chance he could push the giant of a man over the side, so he hoped he’d go on
