2:03 P.M.
A mile away from the cabin, Randall glanced down at the speedometer and twisted the throttle a few times while jerking the handlebars back and forth to stay on the path.
Its motor groaning, the bike lost speed.
Devlin felt the deceleration. “Why are we slowing down?”
“I don’t know.”
Steam billowed up from between his knees.
He squeezed the clutch, shifted into neutral, and applied the brakes.
The machine skidded to a controlled halt.
Randall planted both feet on the ground and leaned right to examine the motor bike.
Devlin did the same thing. “What’s wrong?”
With her still sitting behind him, he finagled his way off the seat and dropped to his haunches to get a closer look at the right side of the engine. “Damn it.”
Now noticing the rising smoke, “That can’t be good,” she swung her left leg around the rear tire and stood on his nine o’clock.
“Looks like the oil leaked out of the crankcase. She’s seized up.”
“Bullet?”
He nodded while standing tall and letting the disabled ride tip over onto its left side. “Most likely.”
Devlin looked back the way they had traveled.
Randall saw the wheels spinning in her mind. “If we go back for the quads, we’ll be even further behind than we already are.” He tipped his head back to spy the weather. “The way it’s snowing, we’ll lose their tracks in no time. We have to keep going.”
She confronted him. “On foot? We’ll never catch up.”
He shook his head. “Not necessarily.” He pointed at the front tire. “These bikes don’t have any studs on them. The more it snows, the harder it’ll be for Hammer to keep his on the trail. Eventually, we’ll all be on foot.”
Devlin gave the path ahead a quick peek then turned her head the other way. “How far would you say we’ve gone...from the cabin, I mean?”
He shrugged. “No more than a mile. Why? What are you thinking?”
“You still have that map?”
He nodded.
“Let’s see it.” She stepped into the woods and took a knee under the drooping branches of an evergreen to get out of the way of the falling snow.
He kneeled in front of her and unfolded the map.
Taking it from him, “Okay,” she turned it around, got her bearings, and found a spot. “There’s the cabin and,” she glanced at the lower-right corner, “using the legend,” she trailed her forefinger northward, “a mile from there puts us,” a beat, “right about here.”
He spied the blank paper at the end of her fingertip. “Okay. Great. There’s nothing there,” he glanced around, “here.”
Her finger slid further north and a smidge to the right.
Randall spied the ‘X’ he had made when they were at the general store then nodded while half closing an eye at his mark. “That’s not that far away.”
She folded the atlas and gave it back to him. “We could be there in half an hour...maybe less if we hustle.”
He nodded. “Well, let start hustling.”
The agents came out from under the low branches and hurried down the narrow trail.
*******
2:29 P.M.
Devlin glanced to her right then reached out with her left hand to grab Randall’s jacket.
He faced her then lifted his gaze to see a five-foot-wide drive hidden among massive pines and shrubs. “I guess Denny was right. It is hard to spot. If we had been on those quads, we might have ridden right by it.”
“We have to be close now.” She made her way toward the concealed opening, stopping a few paces later when she realized she was alone. She turned back to see her partner staring down the path to the north. Coming back to him, she followed his line of sight and squinted at a barely visible speck of light blue up ahead.
Randall drew his Walther.
Devlin drew her Colt.
The two employees of the Marshals Service crept up the path. Coming upon the blue speck, they pointed their weapons at a short, slim figure in blue sweatpants, hiking boots, and a long-sleeved flannel shirt.
Her body enveloped in a layer of snow, her labored breaths coming in short gasps, Samantha gaped at the black sky above.
“Cover me.” Devlin moved away from her partner and approached the downed woman. Seeing no weapon, she went to her left knee and brushed snow off the younger female’s clothing.
Samantha’s eyes found Devlin’s face through the haze of constant flecks coming at her. Her chest rose and fell. “I,” she swallowed, “I loved him. I told him I,” she coughed up a line of blood, “loved him. And he just...just pushed me off the bike.”
Randall came up on the other side of the criminal and cleared snow away from around her body to discover a growing pool of blood near her back/butt area. One of my shots must’ve hit her.
Five seconds later, the twenty-year-old woman mustered the strength to lift her head and grab Devlin’s jacket. “I’m so sorry.”
The marshal gazed upon the woman’s twisted face and could almost feel the tortured mind behind the watery eyes.
“I-I’m the one who shot that man,” Samantha swallowed, “at the bank.” Letting her head fall back to the snow, she stared at the snowy skies above. “I can still hear her screams.”
Seeing the life flow out of her boyfriend, her lower lip quivering, her eyes filling with moisture, Julia brought his face to her chest, and squeezed him. Three whimpers later, she threw her head back and wailed at the ceiling.
“I’m...I’m s-so cold.”
Devlin unzipped her jacket and slid the garment off her shoulders.
“I can’t f-feel my legs. Are th-they still there?” Her chest heaving, she drew in a raspy, gurgling breath of air.
Randall lifted Samantha’s crimson-stained shirt, winced at a belly wound, gently lowered the garment, and looked at Devlin.
Twirling her coat off her body, she noticed the sour expression on his face and stopped in mid-stream, holding her jacket like a matador holding his cape.
He shook his head.
“Oh,” Samantha sighed, “thank you. I feel much warmer now.”
Glancing down, seeing herself still holding her coat in the air, a couple feet above the fallen woman, Devlin screwed up her face. Poor thing. She’s lost all feeling in her... Devlin laid her coat over the dying woman. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’re okay. Just relax. Everything is...”
Her body shudders stopping, Samantha let out a long, slow breath.
“...going to be all right.” Devlin caressed the woman’s face, wiping away the gathering snow. “The pain will be gone soon. I promise. In a little bit, you won’t feel—”
Randall put a hand on his partner’s shoulder blade.
She faced him.
Observing the kind-hearted marshal giving aid to the person who had been trying to kill her less than an hour ago, Randall pressed his lips together. “It’s over, Jess.” He lightly squeezed her shoulder. “There’s nothing more you can do for her.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
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