Crash Landing. Becky Avella

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       FOUR

      Bullets zinged around Sean as he sprinted for Deanna’s plane. He was only yards ahead of the pursuing men behind him, and they were catching up quickly. Midstride, Sean turned and used the pilot’s shotgun to send a warning shot at the closest man. As he pulled the trigger, recognition dawned. His pursuer was Rex Turner.

      Rex owned the Wagon Wheel restaurant on Main Street in Kinakane. He was a tall man with a shiny bald head, a big belly and an even bigger smile. Sean’s bullet missed, and clods of earth exploded at Rex’s feet. Rex wasn’t smiling today.

      How many more of the men behind him would Sean recognize? Were there others he considered friends or acquaintances, men he’d done business with, who were now determined to kill him because he knew too much?

      Deep guttural shouts and revving truck engines clashed with the high-pitched pinging of the bullets spitting up dirt and grass around Sean’s feet, urging him forward. Some of the men had turned back for their vehicles and would reach them soon.

      His lungs burned from the smoky air he inhaled and from the sheer exertion required to stay ahead of the men, their bullets and their quickly approaching trucks. He worried Deanna wouldn’t be able to keep up, but she was light and fast, and she didn’t miss a step.

      “Don’t stop running until we’re in the plane,” he called to her. “Keep moving no matter what. It’s harder to hit a moving target.”

      “You’re going to have to cover for me while I get the engine going,” Deanna huffed. She scrambled up the plane and into the cockpit. Bullets hit the wing above her, narrowly missing her. Sean ran to his side of the plane and climbed in, using the open door as a shield.

      “I’ll cover you,” he panted. “You worry about getting us in the air.”

      * * *

      Deanna checked to make sure the fuel switch on the floor was on and then gave the prime a few shots. She eased the throttle partway in and then reached for the key. Her hands were shaking so violently it was hard to turn the ignition.

      “Come on, come on, come on,” she pleaded.

      Sean kept the door open as a barrier between him and the advancing men. He bobbed up and down, answering each of their shots with shots of his own. The closest man reached the plane and was grasping for Deanna’s door handle when the engine sputtered to life.

      “Sean,” she yelled. “Get this guy off me.”

      Deanna leaned forward, while Sean reached across her back, sticking the butt of the shotgun through the open window. He slammed it hard into the man’s nose. The man rolled away from the moving plane, bleeding but still alive.

      “That was Greg Martin,” Sean said. She heard the shock in his voice, but there was no time to stop and process who was out there shooting at them.

      “Time to go!” she shouted.

      Deanna pushed the throttle all the way in, watching the airspeed indicator come to life. Sean fell back into his own seat, slamming his door closed.

      “Come on, baby, faster,” she implored the plane as it rolled down the meadow. The seconds it took to gain speed felt like months. Sean didn’t say a word; his eyes were closed, his lips moving. Praying?

      She used to pray all the time before her dad put the kibosh on it and convinced her it was useless. Gram was tight with God. Deanna suspected Gram spent countless hours on her knees praying for her backslidden granddaughter, but Deanna had made a decision a long time ago that she’d rely on no one but herself. Hopefully, Sean’s prayers would be enough for both of them.

      They gained speed, and the nose of the plane tipped up, until finally, gravity pressed against her chest. A hot breeze from the open window on her left tickled her cheek. She held her breath as they continued climbing.

      Sean’s eyes opened. “You did it,” he said and hit the ceiling in joy. “Deanna Jackson,” he chuckled, “you are amazing. I thought that was the end down there.”

      “Not just me. You were amazing, too. I thought we were finished,” she admitted. Her voice sounded small in her headset.

      Sean had fixed the mess that she had made. She might have gotten the plane off the ground, but she was still deep in his debt. She could now add him to the long list of people she owed something.

      She couldn’t join in his celebrating yet. Too many unknowns still needled her. So many things to sort through, like “What do we do next?” She’d celebrate when they were on the ground at the airport and far away from this madness. Even then they wouldn’t be safe. Yes, they’d gotten СКАЧАТЬ