Texas Outlaw (Rory Yates #2) - James Patterson Page 0,86
already retreated from the spot where they’re concentrating their fire.
We arrive in the ravine but don’t stop running. It’s a tight corridor choked with brush and cacti, but we barrel through it all, ignoring the thorns tearing our clothes and needles stabbing into our skin.
As the ravine narrows into a slot canyon that might provide an escape route, I risk a look back. Through the chaos, I spot two of the men using fire extinguishers on the flames. These guys are fearless, getting right up on the vehicles, determined to get the fires out before the gas tanks explode. I’m not sure where the extinguishers came from. Maybe the cab of the tanker. Another might have come off the ATV.
A wildfire would bring a whole army of firefighters to this area, something McCormack definitely doesn’t want. His men know they need to get the fires out as badly as they need to catch us. And it looks like they’re doing a good job. The initial exposed gasoline has burned off, and neither vehicle ever became fully engulfed. The vehicles are still smoking terribly, though, which I’m thankful for. We need the cover.
While the two men fight the fires, they’ve sent one man ahead to keep pursuing us. I spot him at the mouth of the ravine, walking on foot through a thin veil of smoke and scanning the brush with his AR-15 shouldered and ready.
I recognize our pursuer immediately.
It’s Mr. Broken Nose.
Chapter 89
ARIANA AND I slip farther into the slot canyon. The sides aren’t high at first, but quickly they rise around us until we’re standing in a canyon that’s twenty feet deep but only three or four feet wide. The sandstone walls narrow at points where we have to squeeze through sideways. I’m over six feet tall and this kind of passageway wasn’t built for someone my size. Our rifles make it even harder to maneuver through the tight passages.
Fortunately, Mr. Broken Nose is even bigger—not taller, but more muscular—and he’ll have a hard time getting through. That he’s coming, I have no doubt. He’ll see the entrance to the canyon and know where we went.
Part of me thinks I should send Ariana ahead while I wait in hiding, ready to take him out. But a gunshot—even just one—will alert everyone else to where we are.
Our best bet is to make it out of the canyon and into some kind of hiding spot.
When the canyon widens, Ariana and I hurry as fast as we can. The silt-covered ground is loose and difficult to move through, like running on sand dunes. Rays of sunlight shine down from the opening above. Dirt clouds float in the beams.
The passage forks from time to time, but we stick to the largest corridor. The smaller forks might narrow to a point where we can’t get through.
I let Ariana lead the way, as I spend most of my time looking behind us, with my gun at the ready. I expect Mr. Broken Nose to come around a corner at any moment, spraying bullets.
“Shit,” Ariana says, her voice barely more than a whisper.
I turn to see what the problem is. The passage we’re in narrows to a point where the gap is no more than four to six inches. Not even Ariana can fit through it.
We’re stuck at a dead end. The only way out is to go back the way we came or to look for another route through the labyrinth. Either option will bring us face-to-face with our pursuer.
I put my finger to my lips, and Ariana and I wait in silence. We can hear Mr. Broken Nose’s footsteps, not far away. He’s moving in spurts, which tells me that at each curve he’s hiding and then bursting from cover with his gun ready, like a soldier clearing an abandoned building.
I aim my pistol at the curve he’ll come from. It’s only ten feet away. Close quarters. I’ll have a split second to kill him before he pulls the trigger and fills the whole cavern with ricocheting lead.
Down here in the canyon, the temperature is ten degrees cooler than out in the sun. The silence is overwhelming. I can hear my own heart, my own breathing.
Distance is hard to judge in the canyon, but it sounds like the footsteps are on the other side of the curve. I need to fire at the perfect moment. Too soon and I’ll alert him. Too late and he’ll open fire first.