Brill exited the woods weighed down with three pistols, two rifles and a pouch of ammunition.
Jo waited for him beside her pickup truck, shotgun reloaded.
She didn’t aim it at him as he approached, which he took as a step in the right direction.
“This is my fault.”
No sense in holding back from her.
“As soon as you put me in,” he said. “They were on their way.”
“Will they stop?”
He shook his head no.
“Are they going to kill me?” she looked worried.
“They only want me. Get in your truck and get out of here.”
He went to the van and opened the back, placed the weapons inside.
Then he went back to Jo, held out her service weapon until she took it. He stripped weapons from the third man.
“How am I going to spin this?” she asked.
Spin was the right word, thought Brill. Her head looked like it was spinning right now.
“You can’t,” he said. “Go tell the Sheriff you got the serial killer and the meth dealer too. Let them work on the connections.”
“What about the soldiers?”
Brill waved at the helicopter.
“Whoever he called is coming to get them.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“No one of consequence,” he said.
He closed the van door and climbed into the front seat.
“Get in your truck,” he reminded her and waited for her to move.
She opened the door, put the shotgun inside, then turned and rushed to the side driver’s door.
Brill cranked down the window.
She leaned in and kissed him.
“Thanks for saving my life,” she said.
“I owed you for saving mine.”
“You know my name,” she said. “I think you have a way of finding people. You can find me wherever you land. I’ll always help you.”
He didn’t remind her that her help had brought the helicopters. He suspected her heart was in the right place, even if her well-meaning intentions almost got both of them killed.
She walked back to her truck, started it up and dropped it in gear. Brill watched her put the radio to her lips as she pulled out. Calling
the operator. Getting witnesses.
He knew the communications were being monitored.
And the pilot was watching the van.
He felt it follow as he left the campsite, and turned in the opposite direction of Jo when he hit the main road.
Twenty minutes he calculated. Ten minutes to scramble a new team to a helo. Ten minute flight toward him.
He had five.
The pilot raced over him, turned around and dropped across the roadway. Brill saw the mini-guns start to whirl.
He yanked the wheel hard left, putting steel between him and the bullets, and then bounded through the trees until it smashed against the bole of a larger trunk.
His tried to bounce his head off the meaty part of his forearm, missed and cracked it on the steering wheel.
No time to worry about it.
He slid into the back, opened the door and grabbed a go bag from under the platform.
He shoved a pistol into the pack, a second into his waist and stuffed a couple of magazines in empty pockets.
Then he grabbed a rifle, checked the load and jumped out of the van. He shrugged into the back pack and ran toward the road.
The van had carved a path through the smaller trees and tall grass, slick tire ruts leading back the way he came.
He used it to make the edge of the trees and stayed hidden under the shadows.
He could hear the helicopter hovering around him, but it was over the far tree line.
Then it was over him, roaring, searching the spot where the van disappeared.
He lined up the sight on the cockpit again, shook his head at the two choppers floating side by side until they merged to one.
Then he emptied the clip into the flying machine.
The bullets pounded into the fuselage and small glass of the pilot’s door. Brill could see his body dance and twitch as rounds ripped into the side of him.
The flier reacted, twisting away, yanking the stick so the helicopter lifted.
But Brill kept shooting, kept stitching a line until the clip ran dry, and the engine housing poured black smoke into the blue sky.
He didn’t see it happen.
But he knew what did. Alarms were blaring as the chopper spun out of control. The pilot was wheezing for air, the pain of his wounds demanding attention. Maybe his left side wouldn’t respond to commands from his brain.
The twist away sent the aircraft into a spin, the damaged engine wobbled and threw his equilibrium off.
That low to the ground, it wasn’t a matter of minutes, but seconds.
Brill didn’t see it happen.
But he watched the fireball, a greasy orange column arc into the air, and heard the sound of the crash a moment later.
No eyes on him for the moment.
But more coming.
He pushed off the tree and wobbled, held out a hand to stay balanced until the world stopped spinning.
No time for this, he thought.
He got his bearings and jogged back toward the van. The front end and tree were married, the grill wrapped around the ash colored bark like a groom holding his bride.
It wasn’t coming loose.
He figured the second group was on their way. Probably more this time. They would be better prepared than the first squad. Better armed. Warned.
The road was out of the question. Thirty minutes in a vehicle, with twists and turns could put a lot of confusion into the chase.
Now he had no options.
Or just one.
He ran.
THE END
Continue the adventure in
IN THE WIND