The clouds dissipated,
giving way to a half moon sitting high in the sky. It illuminated their path as they headed down the last stretch of glacier before reaching the place where it transitioned into the muddy ATV trail. Hatch saw the porcupine looking E350. She scanned the area, looking for any potential threat. No sign of the ATVs. No sign of Grizz or Lankowski.
"I hope you’re as good at changing a tire as you are at fixing the wounded," Hatch said.
"I'm no AAA, but I’m sure I can manage." MacIntosh cracked a smile. Amid the rough exterior, there was a kindness in his eyes, brightened by his smile.
"I wish the owner was here to greet you but meet Jessie." Hatch extended her one good arm in the direction of the satellite antenna-covered quake tracker/painter's truck.
"She looks like a Jessie," MacIntosh said. "If I can get this tire up and we can get it out of the mud, we can use the van to get him out of here."
"That was my plan. Hell of a lot better than walking."
Hatch walked to the back end of the van. She opened the back doors and MacIntosh brought Lawson in his sled gurney.
"Let’s get him out of the cold." MacIntosh moved to one side.
"Good idea." Hatch squatted and assisted, guiding it with her good hand. MacIntosh did the brunt of the work. After they had Lawson loaded, he said, "All right, let’s see about getting that spare."
Hatch looked down at the ice and saw blood. For a second, she thought it belonged to Lawson, but MacIntosh had bandaged his wounds. The bleeding hadn’t stopped, but they weren't dripping. She lifted her gaze, relaxing her eyes so they unfocused and took in all movement. Hatch saw the glimmer of steel.
"Ambush!" Hatch shoved MacIntosh to the ground just before the first shots fired, loud bangs followed by the plink of metal as the rounds struck Jessie’s steel side.
Hatch began low crawling, pulling herself along the ice and mud, toward the front end of the vehicle. The shots stopped for a moment.
"I spotted Lankowski,” she said. “Any sign of Grizz?"
"Maybe I got him back at the camp? Maybe the fire did?" MacIntosh moved to the rear of the vehicle, catching up to Hatch.
Lankowski remained hidden behind a well-fortified position of rock and tree. His cackling filled the silent void like a circus clown gone mad.
"You've got one bullet in the gun. Make it count." MacIntosh tossed the revolver to Hatch. In his haste, he overshot both Hatch and the cover of the van. The five-shot revolver now lay several feet away in the snow-covered mud in front of the van's front end. "Shit!"
Hatch worked herself toward the front of the vehicle. Gunfire continued, but more sporadically, less focused with both men out of sight. And then it stopped altogether. Hatch had made her way to the front right wheel well and was peering under when she saw Lankowski with a gun in hand, peeking out from behind a set of trees not ten feet away. He’d been on the move in between his bursts of fire.
Rounds continued to pelt the left side of Hill's beloved Jessie. The side panel took most of the abuse. Two bullets struck both left side tires, flattening them and reducing Hatch's ability to peer out from underneath.
"I'll draw his fire." MacIntosh shook his legs out like a sprinter reading himself at the blocks.
No time to argue. They need the gun. One bullet was better than none. "On my mark."
"You just make sure you get to that gun." He offered a weak smile.
Hatch pulled herself through the cold mud as she edged to the front right tire, and the edge of her cover. She looked over at MacIntosh and gave a thumbs up.
MacIntosh launched forward and was immediately stopped short by a large forearm. Grizz hooked his arm around MacIntosh’s throat and pulled him to the rear of the van. Lankowski took more time between his shots, focusing his aim on Hatch's position.
MacIntosh was at least six-two, and if Hatch had to guess between two-hundred-twenty and two-hundred-forty pounds, most of which was muscle hardened over six years in the penitentiary. Even with those stats he was nothing more than a rag doll in the arms of Walter Grizzly.
His nose broken, this time Grizz was wiser to the attack. Grizz pinned MacIntosh’s other arm behind him and was choking the life out of him. Even with two bullet holes in his arm, he was able to maintain a grip that MacIntosh couldn’t break.
Lankowski began firing again. Hatch couldn't get to the gun and instead took cover, using the wheel well and engine block as a shield. She saw MacIntosh escape Grizz’s clutch. He sprinted away but only managed twenty feet of separation before tripping on an obstacle. And then came a roar from the side, like a charging bear. Grizz slammed his body into MacIntosh like a rhinoceros on full charge.
Hatch turned to see Grizz mauling MacIntosh, slamming his huge arms against MacIntosh’s face and body like a gorilla defending his pride. MacIntosh deflected the blows as best he could. He met force with force, kicking and punching where opportunity provided. In the end, the behemoth was able to control him.
Grizzly performed a move Hatch had only seen in a pro wrestling match. The red bearded leader of The Way reached down and snatched MacIntosh by the throat. In a feat of strength, he raised him off the ground, above the height of Jessie’s roof.
Hatch could see the life draining from MacIntosh's eyes. He fought valiantly, even digging a thumb into one of the bullet holes, which only seemed to anger Grizz further, who then started slamming MacIntosh’s skull into the Ford's backend. Blood seeped from the side of his head in multiple places.
Hatch needed to level the playing field, peering around the front end of the tire just under where the muddy ground met the thick rubber wall, now deflated and torn. The reason they had not made it. The reason Jessie had been left.
She was looking for an opportunity to make a dive for the gun when the front end of the van lurched forward. Lankowski’s head dipped out of view. The van was now rocking back and forth as Grizzly rammed MacIntosh’s face into the rear door. Hatch unzipped her right boot, pressed the button to extend the crampon, and flung the boot to MacIntosh.
"Heads up!"
He caught the boot in midair and swung it over his head, slashing Grizzly’s face. Bright red blood coated Grizz from the top of his head down to his beard. MacIntosh slammed a fist into the soft spot on Grizz's throat with enough force to free the chokehold. MacIntosh fell to the ground next to the spiked crampon.
Grizz launched on top of him again, preparing to deliver another savage beating, one that MacIntosh would unlikely survive. He raised his arm to deliver a blow, and in that moment of opportunity, MacIntosh struck out with the crampon, slamming it into the side of Grizz’s throat, giving it a hard tug to the right and then left.
The fist in midair was never delivered. Grizz stepped back. Blood the color of his beard poured out from the side of his neck, and for the first time, Hatch saw fear in the big man’s eyes as he staggered back gurgling.
With Lankowski momentarily distracted by Grizz's situation, Hatch capitalized on it and launched herself the six feet to the gun. Rolling and sliding across the mud, she came up and tried to find Grizz in his sights.
Grizz roared and disappeared behind the back of the van before Hatch could get a shot off. Hatch turned her attention back to Lankowski, but he was gone, no longer popping his head out or firing rounds. A second later, he appeared, stepping out from cover, but not by his own volition. He was now gripped in the same way MacIntosh had been, although this time Grizz only used one arm to restrain the much thinner and weaker man as he held him aloft.
That didn’t stop Lankowski from cursing and kicking wildly at the legs of the big man, all the while begging to be released and questioning why. The answer was simple. Grizz was afraid. He was a coward. The big man was using the smaller man to hide behind, and he was doing a good job of using the thin meth addict's body to shield his vitals. With only one shot, Hatch had to make it count.
Lankowski still had a gun and she had to assume Grizz had one too, although he seemed to take great pleasure in using his hands for his dirty work.
He made a mistake in picking Lankowski as his shield. The gaunt meth addict flailed. In a moment of desperation, he bit into the thick forearm of his leader, enough so that he broke the skin, but not with enough force that he was able to break free. It was just enough pain to force a grunt from Grizz. In that slight movement, a target presented. His head.
As he stepped back and neared the gaping hole that had formed during the big quake, Hatch fired the revolver's last shot.
The shot struck Grizz as he shifted and impacted the right side of his head cutting a bloody path starting from the corner of his eyebrow and disappearing to the back of his head. He staggered back, and now he was less than a foot from the edge of the gaping hole that had formed during the big quake.
Hatch stood up and faced off with the behemoth who was less than fifteen feet away. Hatch lowered her center of gravity, digging her right bootless right into the cold muddy earth, and prepared to charge. Before she could take a step, the ground shook. Hatch was knocked over by the tremors.
When Hatch looked up again, Lank and Grizz along with the strip of land they were standing on, were gone.