Safely away, she pulled over to the side of the road to let the truck pass, but instead the driver pulled in behind her. She got out of her car as he climbed out of his cab.
“ Holy shit, that was close!” He was basketball tall, with the darkest skin she’d ever seen on an American black man. He was wearing a military green field jacket and faded Levi’s. He looked tough. He looked old.
“ Yeah, sorry.”
“ Saw the deer. You did real good.”
“ Thanks.”
“ You’re shaking,” he said.
“ No, I’m not.” She didn’t shake. She was as cool as they came. God didn’t make anybody cooler than her.
“ Yes, you are.”
She held her hand up in front of her face, expected it to be rock steady, but it wasn’t.
“ You’re right. That’s not like me.”
A shadow passed over her. She looked up, that chopper was still up there. Hovering. The black man was looking skyward as well. He pulled a set of miniature binoculars from one of his large jacket pockets.
“ Birdwatching’s a hobby.” He put the binoculars to his eyes, said, “Not good.”
“ You think?” she said.
“ Man up there’s got a gun and they ain’t police.”
“ You’re right, not good.”
Lila could tell the helicopter wasn’t military, more like the kind the TV traffic reporters used. It was high enough that under ordinary circumstances, she wouldn’t have given it much thought. She could hear it, but she lived close to the airport and was used to planes and helicopters. Anybody who lived near RNO automatically blocked out those kinds of sounds, but now those whirling blades were beating a thundering tattoo through her brain.
The helicopter did a three sixty, banking, like the passenger was watching them.
“ What kind of gun?”
“ Say again,” the black man said.
“ You know, what kind of gun did you see up there?”
“ Mac 10.”
“ Shit.”
“ You piss anybody off lately?” he said.
“ Maybe, you?”
“ Once upon a time there were some bad people might’ve wanted me dead. Not anymore.”
“ They’re here for me.” Lila sighed. “I think they’ll wait till you leave. You should go.” She reached into her coat, pulled the Glock from the shoulder holster, but kept it concealed from the men in the chopper, however the man next to her saw it. She figured he’d hightail it on out of there pretty quick.
“ You really think they’ll let me go?”
“ Don’t know, maybe.”
“ They know you got the piece?”
“ Maybe.”
“ So maybe it ain’t gonna be a surprise. Maybe they’re expecting you to pop a few caps at ’em.”
“ Maybe.”
“ Okay, Katie, shake my hand, like you’re telling me goodbye. Then I’m gonna walk on over to my rig, climb in my cab and while they’re focused on you, I’m gonna blow the motherfuckers outta the sky.”
“ My name’s Lila.”
“ Sorry, you reminded me of someone.” He smiled down at her, held his hand out. “Shake my hand, now.”
She grabbed his big hand, squeezed tight.
“ It’ll be okay, Lila.” He released her hand.
“ Sure.” She watched him sort of shuffle back to his truck, get in and as if on cue the helicopter dropped from the sky. Apparently she’d been wrong about them letting him go. Mansfield probably had told them not to leave any witnesses.
She dove behind her car, expecting automatic fire from the helicopter, but instead she heard one gunshot, she turned toward the sound of it, saw the old black man standing next to his truck, with a rifle pointing skyward.
Lila looked up. The chopper was stationary, but it wasn’t. It seemed locked in place, but the body was whirling around, like the blade was still, driving the body below it. Did he get the pilot? Was he dead? Wounded? Could the gunman control the plane?
And as if in answer to her unspoken questions, the chopper stopped it’s ring around the rosy craziness and started climbing, backwards. After only a few seconds that felt like an eon, the flying machine stopped its climb, was stationary and hovering, like a praying mantis about to strike. Then, like a dive bombing mosquito, it started downward, hungry for blood. It seemed to be heading straight for her.
Lila brought the gun up, was about to pull the trigger when the chopper banked into a clockwise circle, still coming down, but just above the treetops it leveled of, continuing to circle, but unlike the last time it circled above her, this time she had the sense that the machine was out of control. It rose up about a hundred feet, started spinning around again, then headed down. It looked like it was going to crash into the trees, but at the last second up again it went, back into a clockwise circle. Then it banked left, flying sideways. Buzzing like a wounded dragonfly.
Again Lila thought it was going into the trees, but again the pilot managed to pull it up before impact. For a fraction of an instant it looked like he was going to save the chopper. It stopped in place, looking like those countless traffic helicopters she’d seen on television. She could almost imagine the passenger holding a camera instead of a Mac 10, reporting that the highway was free and clear, save for a semi and a sports car parked on the side of the road.
She wondered what was going on up there. If there really was a gunman, as the black man had said. She had only his word on it, but she believed him. From her position behind the Jag, she looked over at him as he fired another round and the chopper immediately started downward, heading straight for the man with the rifle and this time she knew there would be no pulling up, it was going crash.
And it did, slamming into the black man’s semi, disintegrating into an exploding ball of heat, fire, flying metal and glass. It was as if a volcano had erupted next to her. The heat of the blast was scorching, the sound deafening, like she was in the middle of sonic boom caught on fire and the fire was sucking the oxygen right out of the air.
Had she not instinctively dropped behind her Jag, she’d’ve been killed, of that she had no doubt. She got up, ears ringing, fighting to get a breath. She was about to move away from the burning mess, when she thought of the man. Surely he was as dead as the men in that chopper, but she had to know for sure. He’d saved her life, she couldn’t walk away from that.
Staying low, because the air seemed better closer to the ground, with an arm wrapped in front of her face, she moved from behind the passenger side of the car, surprised to see the big man face down on the ground in front of the driver’s side door, his back covered in blood. He must have run and taken a flying leap as she was ducking behind the car, which would be going up in flames any second if she didn’t move it.
She dropped to the ground next her savior and he was her savior, she knew that to be true. The men in the chopper had come for her. Old Mansfield Wayne had sold her out. It was the only thing that made sense. She hadn’t seen the gun, but anybody who could shoot the way the bleeding man on the ground could, who acted so fast, so calmly in a crisis, was a truth teller when it came to men in helicopters wielding Mac 10s.
She reached for his neck, put a couple fingers on a carotid, felt a pulse.
He groaned.
“ Hey, can you hear me?” She couldn’t hear the sound of her voice. His ears had to be ringing, too. If she couldn’t hear herself, he couldn’t hear her either. She knew moving him was dangerous, but if she didn’t get him out of here pronto, he’d die.
She didn’t know if she could lift him into the car without his help. She lowered her mouth to his ear, shouted, hoping he could hear her through the deafening ringing.
“ I need you to stand up, only for a second. I’m going to use a fireman’s carry to try and get you into my car. Do you understand me?”
He moved his hand. Good enough, she’d take that for a yes.
“ I’m going to roll you onto your back.” She grimaced, because she knew it was going to hurt him, but she had no choice. She grabbed him by a shoulder, flipped him over. With him on his back, she fisted his field jacket by his upper chest and pulled him up into a sitting position, then with a strength she didn’t know she possessed-and she worked out, was in shape-she got up and pulled him to his feet. He put an arm on her shoulder, struggled to hold on as she wrapped an arm around his waist.