Inside Out

104

Through the downpour, Lewis and Tomeo fled east in defeat, moving through the woods as fast as they could without sounding like hunting dogs charging through the undergrowth, hot-trailing a deer. They stopped long enough to allow a six-man assault team, which was running in from the gate, to pass within ten feet of their position. The helicopter that had dropped off the team was circling the lodge.

No more than three minutes had passed from the time Lewis' three cutouts had entered the lodge until Lewis had ordered the withdrawal of his sole remaining team member.

“That guy with the handguns,” Tomeo said. “I've never seen anything like that shitter. I've got bruises all over my body.” He held up his padded left hand. “He broke my fucking knuckles. He knocked Apache down and put one in under her chin. All the time I was firing-every time I drew a bead, he knocked the cold shit out of me. He was like a machine. I never had a clean shot at him.”

“Massey,” Lewis said. “Let's get out of here while they're still busy.”

“I think Mickey hit him. Sean yelled out he was hit, right after she took Mickey out.”

Lewis said. “Sam must have shot Mickey. She doesn't have the balls. If Massey was hit, they'll take him to a hospital,” Lewis said. “Or the morgue, if we're lucky. If he's dead, we can go home.”