Jessica held on as tightly as she could, the dirt bike bouncing up and down as they sped across the rough terrain. She worried that if she lost her grip for only an instant, she would tumble off the back of the bike. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw the two men on the dirt bikes not too far away, the pickup right behind them.
“Hold on!” John shouted at her again, and leaned the bike toward the right, in the direction of the highway.
The desert here was open, only slight vegetation, and they zoomed toward the thin strip of macadam in the distance.
They didn’t get far before the ground beside them began spitting up dirt.
Jessica screamed.
John slowed at once, the dirt bike wobbling back and forth like it might tip over. Then, before she knew it, the bike was doing a complete one-eighty, and the men on the dirt bikes behind them were suddenly in front of them.
As they zoomed forward, John raised the Uzi and fired off several more three-round bursts.
Neither man was hit, but they both ducked, and one of them lost control of his bike and went flying over the handlebars.
John kept driving forward, back toward the mine, aiming now at the pickup which was moving in a wide circle to catch up with them. He paused only briefly, the engine still growling, and carefully aimed the Uzi before squeezing off a few more shots at the pickup.
Jessica watched the windshield become pocked with bullets before shattering completely.
The pickup slid to a halt, dust flying everywhere. The passenger door was flung open and one of the men jumped out, rolling to the ground and firing back at them.
John didn’t waste any time. He got them moving again, the dirt bike’s engine whining loudly. Now they weren’t headed back toward the mine so much as the mountains past the mine.
Jessica, still holding on tightly, once again looked back over her shoulder.
The man who had tumbled off his bike was back on, and both men were speeding after them. They were trying to keep up, and John led them through the desert, the bike bouncing again, Jessica certain she would lose her grip at any moment.
Pretty soon they headed down into a ditch, and John skidded to a halt. He pushed down the kickstand and stepped away from the bike.
He asked, “You okay?”
Jessica forced herself to nod.
John dropped the Uzi’s magazine to check how many rounds were left. Then he clicked it back in place, holding a finger of his free hand up to his lips for her to be quiet. The sound of the approaching dirt bikes was growing closer and closer. John turned away from her, aiming the Uzi at the top of the ridge.
It wasn’t long before the first dirt bike, then the second, appeared over the ridge and headed down into the ditch.
John squeezed off the rest of the rounds, and both men fell right off their bikes.
He tossed the Uzi aside and headed toward the closest man on the ground. A gun lay only yards away from where it had been dropped. John picked it up and held it on the man while he looked over at where the other man had fallen. That man didn’t move, his face down in the dirt. Even from Jessica’s vantage point, it was clear the man had been shot dead.
But the man John was standing over was still alive. He had been shot in his side, blood soaking his shirt. He tried to turn over, his one hand on the wound, his other hand pushing off the ground.
John asked, “What’s your name?”
“Fuck you,” the man spat, blood dribbling down his chin.
“You know, your sniper friend said the same thing to me. Actually, he didn’t say much, but I could see it in his eyes. He’s dead now, in case you were wondering.”
The man turned over onto his back, groaning in the pain. “You can kill me, I don’t care. Either way, you’re a dead man. You and the bitch. You think you’re going to walk away from this alive? They’re going to hunt you down. They’re going to tear you apart. They’re going to—”
The single gunshot was sudden and loud, startling her.
The man groaned again, his other hand moving to the new wound in his knee.
John lowered the gun and said, “You talk too much.”
“Fuck you,” the man spat again.
A moment of silence passed, and in that moment Jessica heard the oncoming pickup truck. Judging by the sound, it wasn’t that far away.
“John!” she called, and when he looked at her, she gestured up at the top of the ridge.
“I hear them. Stay there,” he said, and started up the incline.
Jessica watched him go, speechless, wondering what the hell he thought he was doing, then wondering what she would do if he didn’t come back. She didn’t know how to ride a dirt bike. And the man on the ground was still alive. What if he managed to get to his feet? What if he came after her?
She watched the top of the ridge. Listening to the man groan in pain. Listening to the approaching pickup truck. She heard the crack of gunfire. Then more gunfire. Then even more gunfire.
Someone cried out.
Someone else shouted.
More gunfire.
Then silence.
She waited, listening past the man groaning in pain, past the wind, past the echoing in her ears.
Nothing.
Except … there was something. Footsteps. Footsteps headed this way.
Jessica swallowed. She wasn’t sure what to do. The dead man had a weapon on him, didn’t he? Yes, there had to be one on him, and if not on him, then somewhere nearby. She could run over there—or hobble, if that’s what it took. She could find his weapon. She could—
John appeared then, standing at the top of the ridge, before starting to make his way down. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder, two pistols in each hand.
“Two more pickups are headed this way,” he said. “We won’t be able to head back to the highway, so we need to keep going into the hills.” He nodded toward the one dirt bike. “You know how to drive?”
She shook her head.
“Okay,” John said. He turned back to the man. “Do me a favor?”
“Fuck you.”
John ignored this. “Tell your boss the guy that blew up his helicopter has a message for him. Tell him I hope he has good insurance.”
The man said, “He’s going to kill you.”
John secured the pistols in the back of his jeans and threw a leg over the dirt bike. He kick-started the engine again, flicked the kickstand up, and without even a glance back at the man, drove them away.