Her first instinct had been to flee, and she'd almost started running blindly, when she realized that she could probably get the keys to one of the vehicles from either Tim or Animal, who were both lying on the desert floor. She'd gone back, heart thudding in her chest, her nerves aware and jumping, anticipating the slightest twitch. She'd knelt by Tim Murray, noted the shallow rise and fall of his chest and the blood congealing out of his ears, and begun rummaging through his pockets, turning up a wallet, a cellular phone, and a set of keys, including one attached to a ring from a car-rental agency in Las Vegas.
Ecstatic, she'd started heading toward the SW, when she'd realized the cellular phone was still by Tim. She'd doubled back for the phone, got it turned on, and tried dialing 911. She'd put the phone to her ear and started screaming for help, hoping that whoever heard her was recording her frantic cries for help. She thought she could hear somebody, but she couldn't be sure if what she was hearing was a person or static from the rising wind. Frustrated, she'd hung up and tried again. And again. Each time, she got nothing.
Then she heard a voice. A thin, reedy voice, floating from over the incline, coming from the other side. "Tim? Animal? What's going on?" The old woman.
Lisa didn't know why she did it, but she started trudging up the incline, clutching the cellular phone. She hit a button that displayed a series of phone numbers and she hit the first one, not knowing whom she would get, just trying to get a connection to the outside world. She was as surprised as shit when somebody picked up on the other end and his voice came through loud and clear.
"Hello?" She thought she'd heard him reply, but the connection disintegrated into static again. She kept say- ing" hello" a few times, thought she heard the man on the other end asking for Tim, and then a sudden inspiration seized her. A flare of hatred and anger erupted from deep within her and she screamed. "You motherfucker… you want to talk to your pervert buddy. Tim? Listen to this!" And she held the phone up toward where rim's prone body lay, then brought the phone back to her ears. "Hear that? The reason you didn't hear anything is because Tim's close to being dead. I just bashed his fucking brains in, motherfucker! How do you like that?'
She didn't know how much of what she said got through, but some of it must have; the man's response was immediate. "What's going on? Tim?"
Lisa had reached the pinnacle of the incline now, and this time she saw the old woman on the other side, standing up and looking around. When the old woman saw Lisa, she let out a wail of despair. "Listen to this, asshole!" Lisa yelled into the phone, and held it out toward the old woman. Were you go granny!Let 'er rip!"
"The eyes! Rick said I could have the eyes!"
Lisa brought the receiver back to her ear as she started back down toward the SUV "Your two buddies are dead, and I'm leaving the old woman here for dead too, motherfucker. Now you're fucked! You hear me!"
This time the man heard her. "Who the fuck are you, bitch? Where's Tim? Where's"
She'd hung up on him, and when she got to the bottom of the incline she stopped, feeling a burst of triumph and pride rise within her.
I've fucking got 'em, she thought. Whoever he is, he's on the run. Lisa didn't know who the man was, but she had a gut feeling that whoever it was he had something to do with the illegal hardcore industry that Tim and Animal worked in. The cellular phone Tim was carrying was a cheap Minolta, and there were only three phone numbers programmed into it, which told Lisa it was a pickup job, procured probably for the weekend. She had heard of the practice in her law office, of people getting cellular phones for brief periods of time and then ditching them when they weren't needed anymore. Perhaps the guy who commissioned this particular snuff film was the person she'd talked to. If that was the case, she was keeping the cell phone. And once she got to a point where she received better reception from a cellular tower, she'd try 911 again.
She had approached the SW and was trying to dial 911 again when she'd seen something out of the corner of her eye. She had looked up and seen Animal's twisted visage reflected in the SW's windows a moment before she felt cold steel slide into her right side, spilling warm blood down her belly and thighs.
She didn't even know she was fighting him until she heard him scream and lean forward, clamping his jaws on her left shoulder. She screamed, trying to knee him in the groin again. She felt the knife slide into her again and she fell back against the vehicle, his bulk bearing her down. Her right fist rose and fell over his left eye, pulping it as he loosened his jaws from her shoulder to scream. The knife slid out of her and adrenaline burst through her system, propelling her fight instinct to a level that was beyond fury. She felt his grip on her weaken slightly, and she took advantage of it by driving her fist into his exposed throat. He'd fallen back, gagging, left hand clutched at his throat. He'd dropped the knife and she had pounced on it, grabbing it by the blade, feeling it slice through her hand and fingers. She'd grabbed at the blade with her right hand and lunged, driving it into Animal's midsection to the hilt. His eyes bugged out and he'd gasped suddenly, as if he'd been shocked. Then he'd fallen backward, the knife sticking out of his solar plexus, his one open eye glazing over in death.
She didn't remember how she got into the SUV, but the next thing she remembered she was backing the vehicle along the terrain. She realized what she was doing, realized she was driving backward, then stopped. The incline they had parked at was a good hundred yards away, and she could dimly make out Animal's and Tim's bodies lying there. That's when the pain reeled in, bringing the stunning reality to everything into clear, sharp focus.
Shed risked only one glance down at her midsection. That had been enough to tell her that she'd lost a lot of blood. And that she might not last long.
Somehow she'd grabbed the cell phone when she had climbed back into the SUV She had tried it again, her fingers slipping on the keypad as she dialed 911. She could feel herself panicking, and she closed her eyes, repeating to herself you will not faint, you will not faint, you will not faint. She'd taken deep, even breaths until she felt herself calm down. Then she'd placed the phone in the cup holder above the gearshift, clamped her left hand over the wound in her side in an attempt to stop the bleeding (and keep my insides in, she had reasoned. I feel something trying to slide out and I've got to keep them in…), shifted into drive with her left hand, then steered the vehicle around so that it was facing in a direction she felt safe to go in.
Now she was rolling along, not even sure how far she should go, knowing only that she had to put some miles between herself and the fiends she had left behind. And try to find a spot where she could receive decent reception for the cell phone.
She could feel the wind buffeting the side of the SW as she piloted it over the rough sand. The clouds in the distance were getting darker, and she wondered briefly if she would be swept away if it suddenly rained hard. She'd heard that sometimes desert thunderstorms were like that. One minute it would be barren and dry, the next the desert would be transformed into a rushing river. Whatever. It was best not to think of that now. Concentrate on one thing at a time. Get the fuck out of here.
She drove on, trying to keep the vehicle in a more or less straight line. She had no idea if she was going north or south, east or west. Just knowing she had to find a road, a path. Anything resembling civilization. She wondered how far off the beaten path the incline they had picked for her murder was. It had to be at least a mile off the nearest road. Maybe even more. Less chance of finding her body after they were finished. Which meant she had a few more minutes of driving, if she was lucky. She'd already been driving for… what? Ten minutes? Fifteen?
Her side throbbed and she felt nauseous again. She fought the urge to throw up and almost brought the SUV to a halt. She took a deep breath, swallowed, and released her foot off the brake. Move, she thought. Just drive. Just get the hell out of here.
She thought she could feel her blood coagulating beneath her hand. But then every time this thought entered her mind she would feel a fresh
warm squirt, and her hand would feel drenched again. She tried to focus back on the task of driving, looking out the windshield at the tumbleweed blowing across the desert, watching twigs and brush blowing as the wind picked up even more, hearing the wind howl and moan as it raced across the desert floor. She didn't even bother steering now, just kept the vehicle on a steady course. The tires bounced over rocks, rolled over cactus. She felt a shock jar her system and shake her guts, and a fresh wave of pain erupted in her side. She screamed and took her foot off the accelerator. Something had slapped the underside of the vehicle; it sounded like something had broken off, and now the vehicle was making a chug-chug-chug sound. The SUV was vibrating, and she had her foot off the gas. She dosed her eyes, fighting to battle the pain down, feeling her lifeblood slip away. Haw much blood can a person bleed out and still live? she thought. A pint? She'd lost at least that much, maybe more. The seat was drenched with blood; it was pooling down on the floor of the vehicle, near the pedals. Her back was sticky with it. No telling how much she had lost outside during her fight with Animal. She pressed her hand against the wound, reawakening the pain again, and gritted her teeth. She opened her eyes, her vision blurry, and gripped the steering wheel tighter. She put her foot back on the accelerator and focused her mind back on driving.
She managed to stay focused on driving for what seemed like five minutes. But then again, it could have been five seconds. Five hours. She wasn't counting the time. The clouds were still dark, the wind was still blowing, and now it was starting to spit rain. She knew some time had passed because the scenery had changed somewhat. She glanced in the rearview mirror, and now she could hardly see the incline. It had receded to a small thing in the background. How far had she driven? A mile? Two miles?
Then suddenly the tires rolled over smooth pavement. She stopped, looked back and forth. It was a narrow road, roughly paved, but it was a road nonetheless. And where there were roads there were people.
She took her hand off her side quickly and put the vehicle in park, then reached for the cell phone again. It slipped from her grasp from the blood that had dampened her hand. She had to hold it with two hands as she dialed 911, her tongue sticking out in concentration. A lank of bloodied hair hung over her forehead and she put the receiver to her ear, hoping and praying that the call would go through. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease`
Nothing.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She fought the urge to do both. Instead, she replaced the phone back in the cup holder, put the vehicle back in drive, looked both ways, decided to turn right, and started heading down the road.
She wondered if Animal and Tim were dead now. How hard had she really hit Tim? Maybe he was only knocked out. Maybe he just had a really bad concussion. Didn't people who have concussions bleed out of their ears? Maybe he'll come out of it, and when he sees Animal's body lying there he'll realize what's happened. Maybe hell get Animal's keys and come after me. Maybe he's driving after me right now, maybe he's coming after me right this minute and-
She banished the thought completely and gritted her teeth. Her left hand went back to trying to staunch the flow of blood from the wound in her side.
And she drove.
She peeked in the rearview mirror occasionally, seeing nothing. The road ahead of her was barren, now growing dirty from the blowing wind. The clouds loomed darker, solid black where they met the horizon. A crack of thunder reverberated in the air and the sky lit up with lightning. To her right she could see that it was raining far off in the distance. Judging by the way the wind was blowing, the storm was heading her way.
She drove. And concentrated on keeping her mind off the pain of her wounds by driving. She thought about Brad, her parents. She thought about winning, about beating the bastards who had set this all up. And the more she thought about them, the angrier she got. And the angrier she got, the more determined she became to fight the drowsiness that was now threatening to envelop her. She shook her head, forcing herself to stay awake. Keep driving. Just keep driving, keep the vehicle on the road and keep dr-
And then she was on another road, this one a much larger highway. Pwo lanes, freshly paved.
She stopped the SUV, looked up and down the road, fighting drowsiness, trying to reach a decision of which way to turn.
She turned left.
When she pulled onto the road she saw a flash of light in the distance. As she pulled into the lane she squinted, fighting to stay awake. The lights loomed larger, and when she recognized them for what they were she felt such a rush of excitement that she almost collapsed over the steering wheel in joy. She fought the urge and continued on, the plan springing to mind as easily as the decision to fight for her life back in the desert. The headlights were far enough away that she could simply steer the vehicle into the opposing lane, blocking its path. Whoever was driving the vehicle would stop. Whoever it was would help her.
She turned the steering wheel sharply to the left, feeling the tires skid across the pavement. She thought the SW was going to tip over and she automatically grabbed the steering wheel with her right hand, a fresh wave of pain exploding through her abdomen. Her foot was pumping the brakes and she felt herself spinning, as if she were on an amusement park whirligig.
When the SUV stopped she was facing the headlights, which were now looming larger, she had made a complete three-sixty in the opposing lane. The headlights were blinding and now she could see the vehicle clearly. It was a tractor-trailer truck, one of those long-haul eighteen-wheelers. She could hear the hiss of its air brakes as it began slowing to a stop.
With a gasp of relief, Lisa fumbled for the driver's-side door and got it open. She spilled out onto the pavement, screaming in agony as her side exploded again. She tasted dirt in her mouth. The hiss of escaping air from the huge truck's braking system was loud in her ears, and she tried to ignore the sensation of her guts sliding out of the hole Animal had made in her side with the knife. She tried to move her arms, to position herself to move forward, but she was feeling herself fall down into a dark hole. She fought the feeling, shook her head to clear the blackness that was rapidly engulfing her from the inside out, and the last thing she was consciously aware of was a rapid plummet toward darkness, strong hands grasping her, and the sound of a male voice.
His parents had arrived at the hotel a little before four P.M., and it was now closing in on five-thirty. Brad Miller was slumped in a chair in his room, staring out the window. His mother was sitting next to him; his dad was pacing the floor, running a hand through his thinning hair, looking worried. The head of Luxor security was in the room with them, along with two Las Vegas detectives, trying to keep things calm.
Brad closed his eyes, trying to get past the sense of dread he was feeling. Thirty minutes ago Mike Hall, one of the detectives, had gotten a call from the Nevada Highway Patrol. The thunderstorm that was currently wreaking havoc on Las Vegas was hindering their search efforts. All roads going in and out of Las Vegas were closed and there were flash-flood warnings. "We won't be able to get out there until tomorrow morning at the earliest," the detective had told Brad.
It'll be too late by then, Brad thought. He closed his eyes, all the tears long since drained out of him from cry ing all day. He was staring at his future, and try as he might, he simply could not Imagine it without Lisa.
Then Mike Hall's cell phone rang.
He answered. "Yeah! The long pause made Brad look up at the detective, and what he saw brought a burst of hope through him. The detective's features had brightened. He was actually smiling.'Ihat's good news, sir. Yes, I'll tell him." He hung up.
Brad sprang to his feet. "Where is she?'
'They found her," Mike Hall said, beaming like a proud father. "She's at Las Vegas County, undergoing surgery. A trucker found her on Interstate 15. She-"
But Brad wasn't listening. He was scrambling out the door, his mother and father trailing after him. Joan Miller was crying in joy, calling out to her son to wait up for them. Mike
Hall could only follow, trying to keep up with the mad caravan to the hospital.
William Grecko was both ecstatic and filled with dread.
He grew happy every time he glanced at Brad, who was sitting next to his mother, Joan, talking to Mike Hall or one of the other detectives. Frank Miller was always in close proximity, either sitting near them offering smiling words of encouragement and occasional laughter, or he was pacing the floor of the waiting room, pausing every now and then to glance out the window at the dark rainfilled Las Vegas cityscape amid all the glittering lights.
The dread filled him every time he laid eyes on rank Miller.
William had been trying to get a read on Frank ever since he'd pulled in to the hospital. He had received a call from Brad on his car phone when he was just outside the city limits on his way in to assist in the vigil, informing him that Lisa had been found. William hadn't asked questions right away. He'd simply told Brad he was happy she'd been found, then pulled over to the side of the road and hunted up the number to his FBI contact and given him a call. After relaying the news, he'd given the agent the number to his car phone and resumed his drive. When the agent called back thirty minutes later, William was pulling into the parking lot of the hospital. He'd sat in the car talking to the agent, getting the latest information.
A long-haul trucker had found Lisa just after three P.M. on Interstate 15. She'd been driving a white SUV and had swerved into oncoming traffic. The driver suspected something was amiss, and that was confirmed when he saw Lisa's bloodied form on the pavement. He immediately went back to his rig and raised a distress call on his CB. Fellow truckers responded by calling 911 for him and relaying vital information on their location. Between then and the time it took for emergency personnel to arrive, the trucker had covered Lisa up with a thermal blanket and tried to control the bleeding. Lisa was airlifted to Las Vegas County, where she was immediately whisked into surgery.
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