Killer Summer

75

Come down from there, boy,” a man’s deep voice called out.

Kevin shuddered, cold and scared and unsure what to do. The cowboy had told him to shoot if he were discovered in his rooftop hiding place, and yet by all appearances, the cowboy had led them to him.

As if reading his thoughts, the cowboy spoke.

“Forget what I said, son. They’ve got Summer. I surrendered my weapon. We need you to come down.”

Kevin’s back to the stone chimney, he replayed the message, focusing on weapon and need you. Was there a subtext to the cowboy’s message? Was Kevin supposed to come down shooting? Was he supposed to hide the shotgun for later? He was shaking so badly he couldn’t keep his hands still.

“We’re not going to hurt you… or anyone.” He recognized the voice as the copilot’s. “We’re only interested in the plane.”

The plane?

“We know you’ve got a shotgun. I’ve got Summer in front of me. Lower the shotgun down to me, and then we’ll get you off of there.

“This is no time for heroics, Kevin,” the voice continued. “No one’s getting hurt unless you start something. You hear me?”

If the copilot had Summer, that left the two others with the cowboy. They likely had his rifle and pistol.

Can I get a shot off, maybe two? Maybe even drop one of them? With Summer as their only bargaining chip, would they dare hurt her?

“Do as he says, boy,” said the cowboy with resignation in his voice. “They don’t mean no harm to us.”

He and Summer had gone through too much to surrender now.

“Kevin, they mean it,” Summer called out.

He felt for the extra shotgun shells, slipping one in each sock. Doing it made him feel like this wasn’t surrendering.

“Okay!” he called back.

The copilot came around the side of the building, his left arm slung over Summer’s shoulder and tightly across her chest. In his right hand was the cowboy’s handgun.

“The shotgun first,” he said.

Kevin wasn’t about to provide them with another weapon. He swung the gun against the chimney like a baseball bat, busting it at the hinge. That left the three men with the over-under shotgun loaded with bird shot, and the cowboy’s rifle and handgun.

“That was unnecessary,” the copilot hollered, his voice brimming with anger.

Kevin climbed down. The small guy took Kevin by the arm, roughed him up as he took away the flashlight and knife.

“Easy,” the copilot chastised.

“I owe this kid,” Matt said.

As Kevin was led away along with the others, he glanced surreptitiously up at the chimney. No one had thought to check up there.

If they had, they would have found his cell phone, tucked onto a high chimney rock, its red NO SIGNAL flashing.

High above, a shining star flickered, then disappeared in the black velvet backdrop of space. A moving object had blotted it out. Farther along, another star flickered, disappeared, then reappeared.

Unseen by any human eye, the phone’s LED began blinking green, just as it had done ever so briefly only minutes before.