“There are footprints here,” said Fanning. “They’re new.”
“Are they.”
“See how the heels are dug in, the little pools of water from the rain? They’re recent.”
“Could be, I suppose.”
“You don’t care?”
“No,” said Cully. “Now, you’re ready. Give me the torch, I want to show you something. The details on this are spot on, they have a working safety switch here. See it? Watch my thumb.”
“Do I have to fire the thing?”
Cully stopped.
“We’re all the way up here, on a crappy wet night and you’re backing out?”
“What’s the point, I’m thinking. It’s not a proper gun. It’s just a waste of time.”
“You get everything except the lead flying.”
“Well you go ahead then.”
“Me? I don’t need to. I don’t want to.”
“Really.”
“I’ll fire one off then you. Okay?”
When he got no reply from Fanning, Cully walked over to where the bag had been pinned to the trunk. He yanked it and tore it open and unfolded a piece of paper.
“Orienteering,” he said. “Some club. Geo caching. Ever hear of it?”
“No. Maybe.”
“GPS?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’m gonna put this bag over here. Watch. I’m gonna aim at it and shoot. Take my word for it. It’s easy at ten feet. You shine the light on it. It won’t budge. Air. See? But it will make the same bang. Ready?”
“Okay.”
Fanning let the torch play on the tree trunk. Cully spread the bag against the trunk and he stepped back.
“Two hands,” he said. “Shine it on me for a second. Look. You see? One over the other, fingers like this. It’ll pull up if you don’t and you’ll miss.”
“Miss what? There’s nothing coming out, you told me.”
“If it was a real one, I’m saying. You ready?”
This pistol bucked immediately. Fanning felt like he had been smacked with a newspaper on both ears. He could almost see the shock-waves of air around him. The beam jerked but he could see that the plastic bag hadn’t moved.
“Loud, isn’t it?”
“That’s for damn sure. Let’s go.”
“Give it one. Come on. It’s your turn.”
Fanning watched as Cully readied the pistol, moving the safety forward and back twice. He handed over the torch.
The grip was warm. The weight of the pistol seemed to pull it forward and down.
“No,” he heard Cully say as his heart sped up again. “Really grab hold of it. The left over the right. Straighten your arms. Keep it pointing down there.”
“I can’t see anything out there.”
“Too right you can’t. Not until I see you’re set up. You can feel the catch there by your thumb, the safety.”
“Yes.”
“Pull it toward you. Got it?”
“I think so.”
“It’s not going to fire unless you do. Be sure.”
“Okay I have it.”
“Okay. I’m going to put the light on where you shoot, okay? See it? Two hands, remember. Bend your knees like you’re going to spring. Where’s your forefinger now?”
“My first finger?”
“What you’re going to shoot with.”
Fanning steadied himself for the noise and the recoil. He stared intently at the bag lit by the torch. Somehow, his forefinger wouldn’t squeeze. He tightened it more. Just when he committed, he heard a noise.
“Listen,” he said to Cully.
“Listen to what.”
“Somebody’s out there.”
Cully said nothing, but he stood still listening.
“Maybe somebody’s trying to get into the car,” Fanning whispered.
“A long way to come to rob a car.”
He switched off the torch and began walking. He paused once or twice as though to get his direction.
Fanning followed him, trying to separate the sounds of their footsteps from any others. Cully stopped and listened again.
“They must have heard us again,” Fanning whispered. “The shot.”
He thought he saw Cully nod. Then Cully took a breath, and he whistled. Fanning froze. Cully waited and whistled again.
“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed.
Cully ignored him and whistled a third time. Almost immediately then there was an answering whistle followed a few seconds by another.
“Come on,” he said to Fanning.
Fanning’s heart was ready to burst. He took in fast deep breaths as quickly as he could. He heard more than saw Cully begin to walk again. He imagined himself racing through the trees, vaulting over undergrowth. Down the mountainside he’d go, and sprint through the scattered fields and then the houses into the suburbs, and home. Anything to put distance between himself and this place.
Chapter 37
"Wait!” he called out and stumbled after Cully.
“Who’s there?”
“Don’t worry.”
“ Tell me. This is freaking me out.”
“You’re okay. Just come this way.”
Fanning grabbed Cully’s shoulder. Cully turned and faced him.
“Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t.”
“What’s going on? Explain! There’s someone here isn’t there? You expected it. Planned it.”
“I said don’t worry. And don’t grab me again.”
“But I don’t get it-”
“There’s nothing to get. It’s just the way it is.”
“What does that mean? What are you going to do?”
“I’m a busy man,” said Cully. “I can’t just be doing the tour guide thing here without keeping up with my work. Multitasking.”
“Who’s here? Who are you looking for?”
“Who who,” said Cully and turned to walk down the path again. “You sound like an owl.”
Fanning’s legs felt too weak to keep him standing, much less move. He tried to peer through the darkness again, half-hoping to find where best to disappear into the woods.
Somehow his feet drew him along in Cully’s footsteps.
“Really don’t like this,” he called out.
Cully kept going.
“Who’s out there?” Fanning asked.
Two flashes pulsed in the middle distance. Fanning stopped immediately. His chest surged like an electrical shock ran through it.
“Oi oi,” said Cully and turned on his torch again.
“Ready,” said the other voice.
Cully stepped forward. His second step snapping a dried twig.
“Two of you?” the voice said. It was English with that throaty inflection.
“Two and a half,” said Cully. The torch beam found Cully’s feet and lower torso and ran alongside him.
“Where’s Guy Ritchie then?”
Cully stopped. The light darted and jumped from place to place in the darkness before finding Fanning’s legs. Cully’s flashlight settled on his face. Fanning held his hand up to his face to block the glare.
“Come on,” Cully said. “Show’s over.” The light left his face and played on the ground ahead of him.
“Is that West Ham?” said Fanning with a croak.
“Best supporting actor,” said Cully.
Now Fanning wanted to curse. He felt relief trickling in, but as he walked toward the light the fear still locked his chest hard, and the weakness in his legs wasn’t letting up.
“Where’s your wheels?” Cully called out.
“With one inch out of the ditch,” said West Ham. “What were you thinking?”
“What, you can’t drive anymore? I got the Beemer up here no problem.”
“One way? Great, you’re a hero. You never said it was going to be jungle here, what are we, ten miles out? Dark side of the bloody moon up here.”
Fanning took in long gulps of air. There was a new smell, but he couldn’t identify it clearly.
“Follow him there,” said Cully. “I’ll bring up the rear.”
They were nearly on the car before Fanning realized it. The smell was from West Ham: some kind of booze on his breath. He searched around the back of the BMW with the light, stopping at two red plastic petrol containers.
Fanning stopped and took a step back.
“What’s he doing,” he muttered to Cully. “Are we out of petrol or something?”