Mortal Pursuit

54

The sudden immersion was a heart-stopping shock. Agony sizzled through her left leg. Spirals of lightheadedness wheeled around her, then receded as cold water partially numbed the wound.

Beside her, Ally plunged under the surface in a bright plumage of bubbles.

They broke water together.

The Sea Rayder motored away, and the FireStar, whipping into view, veered north and continued to give chase, trailing a raucous dance-club beat.

“Come on.” Trish turned toward the island.

Ally swept a tangle of brown hair out of her eyes. “Can you make it”

“Just go.”

Ally obeyed, executing a strong breast stroke.

Trish swam without coordination or control. When her slapping palms churned up mud, she realized she’d reached the shallows.

On her good leg she pushed herself upright, then planted her left foot.

Her knee jellied. She collapsed with a hiss of pain.

“Oh, God.” That was Ally, sloshing toward her, the party dress pasted to her body in translucent folds. “Oh, God, oh, God.”

She said it over and over, the words meaningless, infuriating somehow. Sprawled in the ooze, Trish wished the damned girl would just shut up and stop making those awful noises of horror and concern.

An elbow hooked under her armpit. Ally helped her up as Trish bit back an agonized cry.

Together they struggled forward, slogging through mud.

Gage was dying.

Blair knew it, and the knowledge ate at him like acid. As he tracked the Sea Rayder, now creeping at fifteen miles an hour, he kept tossing scared, sickened glances at his younger brother.

Even in the pale light of the instrument gauges, he could see the color draining from Gage’s face as his eyes, half exposed under heavy lids, rolled up white in their sockets.

“Stay with me, bro,” Blair said pointlessly, the words lost in the engine roar.

He’d finally turned off the damn CD player. The night’s action didn’t feel like a Hollywood movie anymore. Whatever had been fun and exhilarating was dust in his mouth.

The mini-jet’s course was erratic, its speed greatly diminished. It seemed increasingly likely that his last volley of shots had hit his targets, either killing them both or at least injuring them badly enough to make operation of the boat impossible.

He could see no one at the helm or in the stem. Possibly they were slumped in their seats, leaking blood.

Like Gage.

The island met the lake in a cluster of boulders, velvety with moss. Breathing hard with strain. Ally escorted Trish through the rocks onto dry sand, then set her down behind a clump of crowfoot, speckled with pale yellow flowers half hidden among the ragged leaves.

With dulled relief Trish saw that their path was concealed by rocks and weeds. They had left no visible tracks.

She tried to remember her CPR training. Pressure points. Stop the blood flow. Right.

Weakly she ground her fist against her inner thigh, hoping to constrict the femoral artery.

“Oh, God. Oh, God …”

Still the same words from Ally, accompanied by grimaces and moans as she tore off Trish’s left trouser leg and exposed her calf, a mound of ravaged flesh, lumpy and mangled and black with blood.

“Looks bad.” Ally’s voice quavered up and down the scale. “Does it hurt Jeez, what a stupid question.”

“It hurts,” Trish whispered, pain nearly cheating her of breath.

“You’re all bloody everywhere.” The girl’s fumbling fingers touched the wound. Trish stiffened, swallowing a scream. “I found a hole. No wait-think there’s another one below it. They got you twice, you were shot twice.”

“Only once.” Trish was crying now, unable to stop herself. Tears watered her world like a hard rain. “Bullet went in and out. Forget about that. You’ve got to start digging. Dig a hole in the sand.”

“A hole” Terror bloomed in Ally’s face. “Like … a grave”

Trish managed a weak, abortive chuckle. “Hiding place, that’s all. Foxhole. Right now we’re too exposed.”

“Got to help you first.”

“No time, they’ll be back any second.”

“You’ll bleed to death. I’ll tie off the wound.”

“It’s all right, there’s a pressure point, I’ve got my hand on it.”

“Well, it’s not working. You’re still bleeding. You’re bleeding worse than before.”

“Look, forget me, I’ll be fine-“

“You won’t be fine, you need help-“

“There’s no time.”

“You can’t keep bleeding like this!”

“Leave me alone and start digging, God damn it!”

“I won’t. Just shut up. Shut the fuck up.” Now Ally was crying too, crying soundlessly without sobs. “I won’t let you die.”

All the fight went out of Trish then, and she let her head fall back in defeat.

“We’ll both be dead,” she said in an exhausted whisper, “unless we get under cover.”

Sniffles from Ally. “Then we’ll be dead. I don’t give a shit. I’m doing this.” She tore her dress, stripping off a three-inch ribbon of fabric at the hem. “So shut up. I’m doing it.” She wrapped Trish’s left knee. “Just shut the fuck up, all right All right”

Trish nodded slowly. “All right.” She almost smiled. “You’ve got a mouth on you, kiddo, you know that”

“Yeah, well.” Ally wiped her eyes with the back of her arm. “Guess that’s what I get for hanging out with cops.”