For some reason, the dead sentries, methodically killed one after the other, reminded Horn of a phrase from his Bible-school days, something about the Grim Reaper gathering sheaves-or maybe it wasn’t from the Bible. Wherever he’d heard or seen it, it sure applied tonight.
Horn knew the cabin was in a clearing. Vine and Kray would have to cross open ground. If he could catch up with them before they did that, and before they separated and slipped into the cabin, he’d be able to spot them in exposed positions. There was enough moonlight for him to see that well.
If the clouds cooperated.
“Christ!” Horn muttered, and lengthened his stride, ignoring the brush trying to snag his ankles and the branches that scratched his face and arms. He scraped his bare left elbow on the rough bark of a tree trunk but ignored the pain. He was carrying his service revolver in his left hand, but when it came time to fire the gun, he’d transfer it to his right, trading pain for accuracy.
Lately it seemed he was always trying to get something in exchange for pain.
Vine and Kray had heard the sounds of their pursuers in the woods. They paused now in shadow, just inside the line of trees, two dark-clad figures like shadows themselves. About a hundred yards ahead, the tiny, crude cabin shone in the moonlight like a prize in the middle of a clearing.
“They know we’re here,” Kray whispered. “And we have to cross open ground.”
“We gotta go in anyway,” Vine said.
Kray grinned in the night. “You really want to waste her, don’t you?”
“I do. And if she’s gone, I’ll get outta here and try again. If there’s a policewoman in the cabin taking her place, we got us a hostage.”
“Makes sense,” Kray said. It was daring enough to work, if Kray would let it. “In fact, I like it.”
Vine looked over at him and smiled. “Like brothers?”
“I’m with you all the way,” Kray said. “Wherever all the way goes.”
Horn saw movement through the trees. He hurried his pace, trying to keep quiet. He wanted to get close. As close as he could. .
But the two dark figures were already moving across the clearing, keeping low, almost but not quite running.
Horn decided to run toward them, not worrying about the noise. Shoving branches away with his free arm, he raced through the woods.
Amazingly, the trailing figure heard him from that distance. The figure hesitated, turned, then dropped flat to be almost invisible, even in the level clearing.
Horn was at the line of trees marking the end of the woods. He stayed halfway hidden and snapped off a shot with his revolver, knowing he was way out of range.
Both figures had disappeared now.
“Only one so far,” Vine whispered to Kray, lying low in the tall grass about ten feet away.
“So far,” Kray said. “Spot him?”
“Maybe in line with that tall pine tree, right at the fringe of the woods. I’ll see him if he moves. Think we should take him out?”
“Might not make the cabin if we don’t. Sounded like a handgun, but we can’t be sure what else he has.”
“Or how soon help’ll come his way.”
“Still got your sniper’s eye?”
“We’ll find out,” Vine said, shifting his body slightly and bringing his automatic rifle around. He kept the rifle low and parallel to the ground; its barrel flattened an arc of tall grass as if it were a scythe.
Horn saw the slight movement of grass in the moonlight. He knew where they were and wanted to flush them out. Had to flush them out.
He decided on another useless pistol shot. Might as well use his strong but inaccurate left hand since he wasn’t going to hit anything anyway.
He shifted the pistol back from his right hand and moved to where he could fire around a tree.
A sledgehammer hit him high on his chest on his right side.
He was on his back on the ground without remembering falling. He did recall the short burst of automatic rifle fire and knew he’d been hit.
He felt his chest with trembling fingers and found the depression in the Kevlar vest. Felt around some more. Apparently, only one of the burst of about four shots had struck him.
He located his revolver-the hard lump he was lying on-and held it in his right hand.
There was no way Vine or Kray could approach to make sure they’d killed him without being outlined against the moonlit sky.
He didn’t allow himself the slightest movement, knowing they might see it.
As he lay there calculating his chances, the dark clouds scudding across the sky obscured the moon.
Now, against an unbroken black backdrop, they could come at him, unseen!
It took all of Horn’s willpower not to move. Let them think he was dead. Maybe he could get a shot off, kill one of them.
Suddenly, the moon was clear and the sky was a pale purple rather than black-like curtain time, last act.
And there they were, faint dark shapes against the sky, only about ten yards away.
Knowing they might be wearing flak jackets, Horn aimed for the knee of the closest and squeezed off a shot.
Heard a yelp of pain as he rolled to the side, into shadow, into the woods.
A burst of automatic weapon fire rustled and picked at the leaves in his wake.
He fired his pistol again, then rolled to his left. He had to fire with his right hand to have a chance of hitting anything, and his arm was aching more with each shot, with each roll. “The area’s sealed off!” he shouted. “State police have you surrounded!”
Another burst of fire, over his head and to the left.
“You don’t have a chance unless you surrender!” He moved again.
No blind shots at the sound of his voice this time. Neither one of these guys wasted ammunition.
Staying as low as possible, he reloaded.
“Hit bad?” Kray asked in a whisper.
Vine’s voice was tight with pain. “Fucker got me in the thigh. Lucky it wasn’t my knees.”
“Will the leg take your weight?”
“I think so. You figure we’re really surrounded?”
“Hell, yes. We knew they were here when we arrived.” Kray scooted over closer to Vine. He could see blood glistening on his left thigh. Goddamn moonlight.
“Let’s go for the cabin,” Vine said.
Kray couldn’t help feeling a rush of pride. His men were the finest. “You know she might not even be in there.”
“God help whoever is!” Vine said.
Several shots came from the direction of the dark woods.
