Cage scrambled as Sarah leaped to her feet, now tackling Terrence. She managed to get the gun away, but it was clear by the way she held it that she didn't know what she was doing.
Terrence swung wildly at her with his good arm. On the ground, Connor—who’d been accidentally released as Cage tried to help Sarah—scrambled to get up.
Grabbing the gun from Sarah, Cage swung it back toward Connor. Sarah would have to keep his back clear from Terrence . . . and any other comers.
Where he faced now, Cage could see Aurora had gained her feet. That was good because everything had turned around. Cage’s eyes darted from person to person as they scooted out of the way, not wanting to be in the line of fire. Had Connor purposefully put himself in between Cage and the others or had that been dumb luck?
Putting his hands up casually, Connor offered a soft grin that would have been considered friendly on anyone who didn't have shark eyes. “Hey, man, you don't need to do that. We're good here.”
He reached out as if Cage would casually hand the gun back. Cage took a step backwards and braced both hands on the gun. His finger rested inside the trigger guard, ready.
Connor took a step forward. “You're not going to pull that trigger. You may be Terrence now, but you don't have what it takes.”
It would be inappropriate to chuckle or offer a sharp comeback, so Cage just stood his ground. “If you come any closer, I will shoot you.”
“You don't mean that.”
Connor’s foot had moved so Cage put a bullet in his shoulder.
His whole body ricocheted back, both men pushed opposite directions by the force of the bullet leaving the chamber and hitting Connor.
The affable expression flipped to that of a monster. His lip curled, his left arm now hanging limp. Shoulder shots were not the easy through-and-through that they appeared on TV. But Connor didn't offer any more words. Instead, he just lunged.
Cage pulled the trigger two more times.
By the time Connor stumbled to Cage’s feet, he was on his knees, his right hand now grasping at his chest where red bloomed on that ugly, stupid, wife-beater tank top that he always wore. The black jeans were absorbing the color as the red ran down into them. But there was no escaping that he wasn't going to escape this.
Connor breathed heavily, making sick sucking sounds as he tried to inhale. At least one of the shots must have collapsed a lung. That hurt like a motherfucker. Cage found he didn't care. Whatever he'd hit, it would soon be fatal.
Connor gasped, rolling over, trying to both grasp at his chest and brace himself up from the ground with his one good hand. It didn't hold for long and he fell onto his side, staring up into the night sky.
It was impossible to tell when the light left his eyes because it had never been there in the first place.
Cage’s own chest felt like it had been in a vise. He’d not yet figured out if he had been shot or not. But there wasn’t time for that.
Terrence snarled at him though Sarah was still holding him off. His bad arm kept him from being too willing to blatantly attack.
“You told everybody you're Terrence,” he said, “I suppose you're Connor now, too.”
“No,” Cage said turning and looking around the group. The gun stayed aimed at the ground, but not held loosely. Three bullets he'd fired. Two from Connor during the fight. There should be only one more. He didn't stop to check.
He turned to see Sarah trying to help with Dodger’s wound. It didn’t look too bad, but what did he know?
“No one is Connor now. We need to leave.”
“I don't understand,” one of the teens said. The others mostly didn't speak at all. They just looked frightened or babbled back and forth in rapid fire Spanish that Cage could not understand. No one was translating.
“We're less than an hour from base.” He couldn't call it home. “I don't know how much leeway they give Connor for when we get back. But sooner or later, they're going to see that we're not there. They're going to come looking for us.”
He didn't have to say it. He could see the change in the eyes around him. They all understood when the others came looking, they would come with guns.
“They have ATVs,” one of the younger men who'd been talking in Spanish said. “Three of them. I've seen them.”
Fuck, Cage thought. He'd not seen the ATVs come out. But they would make it very easy to run these people down. Between them they had one bullet and there was no telling the amount of ammo the others had.
They were sitting ducks.
“We need to scatter,” Cage told them. They had to get as far away as possible. If their captors got near them, their only hope would be to hide—where?—until morning, and pray their captors decided to stop looking.
Were there caves that the runners didn’t know about? Would that be enough if they mobilized troops?
Cage looked up at the night sky. The stars overhead would have been beautiful in any other circumstance. He couldn't even read them. But he could see where they were, and he could follow a path. He was pretty sure he knew which direction was West.
It would be a long walk in the heat of the desert. They had only whatever they hadn't drunk or eaten tonight, but Joule would be looking for him and they would make it. Unless any of them did encounter anyone else looking for them.
All he could do now was hope the pickup teams already had what they were after. They’d gotten their materials while he'd watched through the binoculars. So maybe he didn't have to worry about them until much, much later.
“I don't think we can run.” One of the women looked scared. “We have to go back. It's safer. You're Connor now.”
Cage shook his head again. “No, I'm not. I'm not going back. If any of you goes back, you kill those of us who leave. We all have to escape.”
Nobody said anything. He tried again. “You're free now!”
It was clear some of them had been here for too long to even know what to do with that, but they were wasting time standing here.
Sarah had help from one of the other young men as they now tried to tie off Dodger’s wound. The whole thing was taking too long. They should have been running as soon as Connor’s eyes rolled back.
Three of the teenagers began their rapid fire talk again. Cage recognized this time that it wasn't Spanish but Portuguese.
“Were going back,” the one said.
Cage quickly protested.
The kid held up a hand. “We're going to get the ATVs so they can't follow us.”
“That's not safe. What if they catch you?”
“They’ll definitely catch us if they get the ATVs.”
Cage couldn't argue that as he agreed.
The kid had a plan, though. “If we go back and get the ATVs, we should be able to get there before they realize we're missing. Then we’ll ride away.”
Cage was thinking they would puncture the tires or find a way to empty the gas tanks. But the vehicles weren't repairable if they weren't even there. Also the boys would get further, faster on the ATVs. It would help make up for heading back into the Wolf's Den.
He looked between them. Could he trust them?
If they went back and alerted the men that Connor was dead and the others had defected, it would put Brown Eyes on the trail that much faster. As much as Cage did not like Connor, every step up the ladder seemed to attract a worse person.
There was no time to say no. “Do you promise me? You’ll just get the ATVs and get away? If you tell them what we did, I will hunt you down myself.”
The English speaker nodded solemnly, quickly translated for his friends, and they too nodded. He had to trust them. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the knife he'd originally taken off Terrence. “Take this. Once you run out of gas, slash the tires.”
The one handed it to his friend, then took three steps backwards. They watched Cage as if waiting for him to make another move. Then, they turned and bolted back toward the house. They had to get a move on. Cage knew if they waited any longer, if the boys betrayed them, if there was more than ATVs that could come out looking for them, the remaining people didn't have much time to escape.
He motioned to Sarah and Aurora to join him. Sarah tried to stay with Dodger, having tied his shirt tightly around his wound, but the older man waved her away. Two of the younger boys stayed against his side and Cage only now realized they bore an uncanny resemblance to him. A family.
One of the young women darted over to join them, the spell of their separation broken. Dodger’s arms linked around her in a relieved hug that in itself almost made all this worthwhile.
Looking at Cage, Dodger pointed to himself, then the kids, then a direction that was relatively northwest.
“Go!” Cage told them. “As fast as you can.”
The little girl translated for the man who was her father or her grandfather. Cage couldn't tell.
Then he pushed the gun down into his pocket. Grateful, not for the first time in his life, that he wore cargo pants.
Then he, Sarah, and Aurora linked hands, aimed themselves west, and ran.