Hatcher rubbed at his stubbled chin and continued driving, the gears of his mind spinning. “We could stop and engage them…,” he said more to himself than anything.
“No!” Skeeter shook her head vehemently. “Please don’t, Hatch. I don’t trust—”
“No worries, kiddo,” he interrupted. “I was just thinking out loud.” He stared out the tall side mirror again and could see the dust trails getting closer. “The other option is let them catch up, then use the truck to run them off the road.”
“Can’t we outrun them?”
Hatcher gave Skeeter a lopsided grin. “Not in this thing.”
Bren was turned around and staring through the slats of the headache rack. “Is Jason safe out there?”
Hatcher shrugged. “Safe enough. The only thing that can shoot this far is a rifle, and he can duck down inside the bed. I reckon it will slow a bullet about as much as this cab will.” He stole a glance to the back and saw Jason shoving gear toward the rear of the shallow bed, forming a protective wall between him and the pursuers.
Jason laid down and propped his shotgun up on the duffles, using the bags to steady it.
Hatcher smiled at the young man’s intuition. “Looks like he’s making ready to take them out before they can get too close.”
A hollow ping echoed inside the cab and it took Hatcher a moment to realize they were being shot at. Fortunately, the distance was still a bit too far for the round to be effective. “And so it begins.”
“Was that a bullet?” Skeeter ducked lower into the seat and clung to Bren’s leg.
“I think so.” Hatcher banged on the side of the truck to get Jason’s attention. When the younger man slid up behind the cab, Hatcher handed out his carbine. “This has a longer reach than that shotgun.”
Jason spun it around in his hands and studied the weapon. Hatcher yelled at him, “Do you know how to use it?”
Jason cracked a sly grin. “Point the end the bullets come out of toward them, right?” He shot Hatcher a wink, then slid to the rear of the bed. He pushed the shotgun aside and laid the carbine across the duffles.
Peering through the scope, he was able to bring the riders into focus. “Let’s give them a little something to sweat over.” He placed the crosshairs on the lead rider and squeezed the trigger. He forced his eyes to stay open to see if he could watch the rider swerve and fall, but the round fell short. He raised the crosshair and tried to compensate for the distance then squeezed the trigger again.
The round still fell short, but this time, he managed to strike the motorcycle, causing the lead rider to almost lose his balance. He watched as the front of the bike began to wobble and the rider slowed.
Jason raised the crosshairs even higher and squeezed off another round. This time the rider tumbled from the bike and become lost in the dust cloud raised by the others. Jason stood up on his knees and whooped. “I got one!”
Another round pinged off the cab of the truck and Jason dropped back below the protective stack of equipment. He brought the carbine back up and peered through the scope. He set the crosshairs back on the new lead rider and raised the crosshairs to just above his head. Squeezing the trigger, he watched as that rider fell from his motorcycle, the bike tumbling as it hit the ditch.
Jason felt his mouth go dry as he found the next rider in his crosshairs. The man looked evil and angry, and was obviously pushing the motorcycle at full throttle as he closed the gap between the two. Jason had difficulty keeping the crosshairs on him as the man swerved from one lane to the other. He saw the man pull a rifle from his back and lay it across his handlebars. Jason tried again to get the man in his crosshairs and saw the puff of smoke from the barrel just as a bullet whizzed by his head and echoed off the metal headache rack of the bed.
He ducked and rolled to the other side of the makeshift barricade and lay the carbine across the top, doing his best to catch the rider in the crosshairs before he swerved to the other lane. He could see the rider raise his rifle and shoot one handed as he gunned the motorcycle once more.
Jason ducked and felt the round impact the large duffle he was using as cover. “Son of a bitch!” he cursed as he popped back up and squeezed off two more rounds. He didn’t bother to aim and noticed that neither round was close.
Jason ducked back low and heard yet another round ricochet off the side of the bed. “This guy is too squirrely!” he yelled toward the cab. “I can’t get a bead on him.”
Hatcher let off the accelerator and Jason wanted to scream at him to go faster when an unfamiliar sound broke the air. Jason leaned up to see if the biker had miraculously closed the distance, but the sight he beheld left him speechless.
The lead biker had turned around and was going back, a large military helicopter hovering between where he was and the truck. The chopper was turned toward the biker and Jason saw tufts of dirt and pavement erupt behind the biker as he ran full throttle. Apparently, whoever was in the chopper wanted to emphasize the Don’t come back essence of his Go away message.
Jason came up to one knee and raised the carbine to his eye. He peered through the scope and could just make out the men in the cockpit of the chopper. It looked like military uniforms and he cautiously sighed with relief.
He felt
