His mind thumped with the crunching footsteps of his wasted legs. Up the road, he half expected to see headlights appear and charge at him, running him over after he had come this far. Or a boulder, rolling down like a Mayan booby trap. The thought of Laura up there kept him going.
He could not remember a time where he was more focused on her. No clutter. No waiting BlackBerry or office politics. All was shoved aside. It was all about her. That is what kept his legs moving, though they burned with an intensity that he had not felt since his high school sports days. It was thoughts of her that pushed the questions away, the arguments on why Boots wasn’t here. It didn’t matter, he told himself. The only thing that mattered now was getting up to the end of this road and saving Laura.
The twilight haze made the surrounding rock glow, as if walking into a negative photograph. Color was gone. All was doused in a sepia tinge of dark and light. The white road below his feet an unmistakable path.
Another sharp bend and Jack saw the clearing. He stopped in his tracks and hugged the rock, peering around the corner.
In the middle of the clearing was the black pickup truck. It sat there like a slumbering mythological beast, a sleeping dragon. He half expected it to turn its grill at him and charge like a chained dog, but in the increasing moonlight, it created a black hole of rusting metal.
Behind the truck, Jack could see a cleft in the rock wall. The cave. Its gaping mouth silent. Nothing stirred. It was dead quiet.
Jack thought about what to do. It was about twenty yards to the truck, possibly another twenty past that to the cave. The clearing was smooth, with no place to hide. Rock walls lined the clearing as if a scoop of earth had been lifted from the mountain. The blood pressure in Jack’s veins built like a volcano.
He took a step forward and was about to make a dash for the truck when he saw a thin stream of smoke appear from behind the cab. He stepped back.
Jack could see the amber glow of a cigarette butt dancing in the dusk. A man was there, leaned up against the vehicle, facing the cave. The man inhaled again and blew the smoke into a giant ball over his head, which then dissipated in the stale air. Jack watched him cautiously. He was stuck.
Charging across the clearing, yelling like Rambo, was not the thing to do. The guy could have a gun, a knife, a bazooka, for all he knew. For a man who had never been in a fight, Jack knew enough. A cavalry charge was not his best option. He waited patiently for something to develop.
Soon the man flicked his cigarette aside and walked into the cave. Jack waited several seconds and then stepped out into the clearing.
The sound of each step seemed amplified in his ears. The crunching gravel below his shoes seemed to be screaming out with every footfall. He made his way to the truck and crouched down. Halfway there.
Halfway to what, though?
He took a peek around the tailgate and could see the cave. Darkness started just a few feet from its entrance. He could not see inside.
The tailgate. Smashed and bloody. It caught Jack’s attention in the fading light as he pressed himself against the back quarter panel of the vehicle. So close to the instrument of two killings not so long ago.
Jack sat there, not knowing what to do next.