then began to talk, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s got something that doesn’t belong to her…”
Behind them, the RV was now sheathed in flames, acrid plumes of smoke tainting the night.
“And what
has
she got?”
The words were quieter again, barely audible. Danny, on one knee, leaned in a fraction to hear. Then a switchblade that had been concealed in the gunman’s chest webbing ripped up at his exposed throat. The blade nicked Danny’s cheek as he snapped his head away. He slammed the stock of his weapon into the man’s mouth. The knife dropped.
Danny looked back at Clay and shrugged. “You try to be civilised…”
The gunman launched into a torrent of vile language, some English, some French, all unmistakable in context.
“One last try. What has the girl got? Why do you want her so bad?”
“Fuck you! Burn in hell. Burn in hell!”
“Are there any more of you out here?”
“Burn in hell!” The man repeated the fiery mantra over and over.
Danny saw his hand feeling for the switchblade and hauled the man to his feet by the throat. “You’re going to the electric chair for this.”
The gunman’s left hand snaked to his collar and another blade flashed, but this time Danny was ready. He pivoted into a classic combat throw. Locking his opponent’s extended elbow over his own shoulder, Danny snapped the top half of his body forward. The man was pitched bodily into the blacktop. His head and neck snapped back with a crunch of separating vertebrae as the rest of his body tumbled over in a loosening of limbs.
Clay sauntered over and regarded the twisted body. He looked into Danny’s eyes but said nothing. Sometimes no words were required.
“Are they both dead?” asked Andrea. She had appeared at Clay’s side.
“As disco-dancing dodos. Serves them right for what they did to my bus.”
“What do we do now?”
Both men turned to look at her. She was covered in blood and dirt. Her pale-blue eyes reflected the flames licking out of the Winnebago.
“Two choices: stay and wait for the cops, or put as much distance between us and them as possible,” Danny replied. He tapped the dead man’s face with his foot. “I thought heading for Rachel was best, but if there are more of these out there, I vote for heading south as fast as we can hustle.”
“What about the police? Won’t they be after us as well?” Andrea asked.
“For questioning? Definitely. But I think that once they see the video from Ryback’s car they’ll know that we weren’t the bad guys here.” Clay pointed back down the road. The red and blue lights still flashed in the distance.
Danny touched the bloody nick on his cheek. “I’d rather explain from another state. Just in case we meet any overzealous troopers before this gets sorted out. Jail time in Nevada is no joke. Not something I’d like to sample while the lawyers duke it out.”
“Prison? Why would we…” Andrea gripped Danny’s arm, her eyes wide with dismay.
“Because they’d bang us up in the state pen while they sorted through all of this, just to be on the safe side.”
“But they did this to
us
…”
“
We
know that, but the investigation could take months,” warned Danny.
“Years, even. These Nevada boys aren’t the quickest out of the stalls,” added Clay.
Andrea’s expression was one of incredulous disbelief. Then she shook her head. “No, I’m not being locked up for any of this. No way! Once they see what those lunatics did, the police will understand.”
“Yes.
Eventually
. That’s my point. In the mean time we’ll be wearing orange jumpsuits and hiding our valuables up our arses.”
“But I’m English—” she turned to Danny “—and you’re Scottish, aren’t you? Are they allowed to put us in an American prison?”
Clay laughed at her naivety. “There’s people locked up in this country for looking the wrong way at the judge. Besides—” he gestured at Danny “—we’re both half-breeds. Dual
Behind them, the RV was now sheathed in flames, acrid plumes of smoke tainting the night.
“And what
has
she got?”
The words were quieter again, barely audible. Danny, on one knee, leaned in a fraction to hear. Then a switchblade that had been concealed in the gunman’s chest webbing ripped up at his exposed throat. The blade nicked Danny’s cheek as he snapped his head away. He slammed the stock of his weapon into the man’s mouth. The knife dropped.
Danny looked back at Clay and shrugged. “You try to be civilised…”
The gunman launched into a torrent of vile language, some English, some French, all unmistakable in context.
“One last try. What has the girl got? Why do you want her so bad?”
“Fuck you! Burn in hell. Burn in hell!”
“Are there any more of you out here?”
“Burn in hell!” The man repeated the fiery mantra over and over.
Danny saw his hand feeling for the switchblade and hauled the man to his feet by the throat. “You’re going to the electric chair for this.”
The gunman’s left hand snaked to his collar and another blade flashed, but this time Danny was ready. He pivoted into a classic combat throw. Locking his opponent’s extended elbow over his own shoulder, Danny snapped the top half of his body forward. The man was pitched bodily into the blacktop. His head and neck snapped back with a crunch of separating vertebrae as the rest of his body tumbled over in a loosening of limbs.
Clay sauntered over and regarded the twisted body. He looked into Danny’s eyes but said nothing. Sometimes no words were required.
“Are they both dead?” asked Andrea. She had appeared at Clay’s side.
“As disco-dancing dodos. Serves them right for what they did to my bus.”
“What do we do now?”
Both men turned to look at her. She was covered in blood and dirt. Her pale-blue eyes reflected the flames licking out of the Winnebago.
“Two choices: stay and wait for the cops, or put as much distance between us and them as possible,” Danny replied. He tapped the dead man’s face with his foot. “I thought heading for Rachel was best, but if there are more of these out there, I vote for heading south as fast as we can hustle.”
“What about the police? Won’t they be after us as well?” Andrea asked.
“For questioning? Definitely. But I think that once they see the video from Ryback’s car they’ll know that we weren’t the bad guys here.” Clay pointed back down the road. The red and blue lights still flashed in the distance.
Danny touched the bloody nick on his cheek. “I’d rather explain from another state. Just in case we meet any overzealous troopers before this gets sorted out. Jail time in Nevada is no joke. Not something I’d like to sample while the lawyers duke it out.”
“Prison? Why would we…” Andrea gripped Danny’s arm, her eyes wide with dismay.
“Because they’d bang us up in the state pen while they sorted through all of this, just to be on the safe side.”
“But they did this to
us
…”
“
We
know that, but the investigation could take months,” warned Danny.
“Years, even. These Nevada boys aren’t the quickest out of the stalls,” added Clay.
Andrea’s expression was one of incredulous disbelief. Then she shook her head. “No, I’m not being locked up for any of this. No way! Once they see what those lunatics did, the police will understand.”
“Yes.
Eventually
. That’s my point. In the mean time we’ll be wearing orange jumpsuits and hiding our valuables up our arses.”
“But I’m English—” she turned to Danny “—and you’re Scottish, aren’t you? Are they allowed to put us in an American prison?”
Clay laughed at her naivety. “There’s people locked up in this country for looking the wrong way at the judge. Besides—” he gestured at Danny “—we’re both half-breeds. Dual
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