“Right,” Elise called back, not at all certain they could accomplish what he suggested. Another pop of gunfire from below was followed by a tearing sound. They’d hit her right wing.
“Elise!”
“It’s just my wing,” Elise assured Cutch, her heart warmed by the concern in his voice. “That won’t slow me down too much.”
In spite of her optimistic words, she felt the lightweight craft respond to the tear by refusing to push forward so quickly. Cutch passed her as her glider sagged behind.
“Come on! Hurry!” he called back.
She watched him swerve in the sky as though to circle back for her. “Keep going!” she insisted. “Don’t put yourself at risk on my account.”
As they passed over the center of the next section, she gulped a deep breath. They were as far away from the gunmen as they could get—for now. But they were quickly coming up on the next crossroad. And Bromley’s men knew it.
Elise started praying more fervently. Up ahead of her, Cutch crossed over the road well ahead of the trucks. But as she approached the same spot, the pickup and SUVs came tearing along the road to meet her. “Please God, please.” She already knew Darrel had her within range, and she was fairly certain he was a pretty decent shot. She could only hope the dust clouds thrown up by their tires would cloud his vision enough for her to sneak past.
Blam!
Blam!
“Elise!” Cutch screamed.
Pain speared deep into the flesh above her right knee just as the motor behind her gasped and died. She was hit. She was going down, and she wouldn’t even be able to run away. This was it, then.
“Keep going. I’m okay!” Elise shouted for Cutch’s benefit, though she felt far from okay. Cutch had to get away with the pictures they’d taken or they’d both be killed. She gripped the speed bar and bit back a scream as pain radiated up from the wound near her knee.
Cool air coming up off the river valley hit her face, lifting her torn glider. The Nishnabotna River paved its muddy track off to her right. If she tried to cross it, she could end up crashing into the middle of the river and be swept away in its swirling waters long before she could get her harness unhooked.
But if she stayed her course, she’d crash within a quarter mile of the men who’d shot her. And unless they changed their tactics, she’d be dead before she hit the ground. She turned toward the river, praying like crazy the lift off the water would be enough to carry her across and praying even harder that by some miracle she could then get away before the gunmen made it to the bridge and back.
She braced herself against the speed bar and angled her wounded glider for maximum lift. She could smell the muddy waters swirling below as she dipped close to the nearest bank.
The water gurgled, its thick late-summer stream deep and wide, nourished by the recent rains they’d received, and potentially deadly if she didn’t make it across.
The roar of a motor behind her caught her attention, and she looked back. Though the red truck and one SUV were headed south toward the bridge three miles back, the third vehicle plowed through the fence rails that rimmed the field alongside the river, knocking them aside like sticks. The big beast of an SUV barreled straight toward her.
He was going to try to ford the river!
Elise glanced forward and saw Cutch circling back toward her. “Stay away!” she shouted, not wanting him to come within range of the gunman who was gaining on her in spite of the uneven, soggy ground along the river’s banks.
She was halfway across the Nishnabotna but dropping steadily. Fortunately, the river was high, making the far bank a low one—which meant she had a shot of making it over but so did the SUV behind her.
With a splash, the vehicle hit the muddy water at high speed. It revved and rumbled for a few feet, throwing up water and mud, but it quickly settled in the deep, swirling waters. With a sickening sloshing sound, the submerged engine died. Cursing, the men crawled out the windows and up onto the roof, penned in by the swift current and the wide river.
The bank passed by underneath her. Elise tried to pull her legs up as her shoes skirted a bean field on the far side of the river. She screamed in pain as her wounded leg protested the movement. Though standard landing procedure required her to run along until she’d slowed the speed of the glider to a stop, she couldn’t make her injured leg obey. She hopped on her good leg for a couple of strides and then gritted her teeth and landed hard, slumping down to her left and gasping for breath.
Moving fast, a plan already half-formed in her mind, she pulled the camera loose from its fresh tape and tied the tape like a tourniquet above her injury. Cutch might not have needed anything for his arm that morning, but his wound had only been superficial. Even without looking, she knew the bullet had penetrated deep into the muscle of her leg. To her relief, it looked like a clean shot that had missed the major veins, but that didn’t mean she’d be able to use her leg. She’d need medical attention soon.
Unzipping her jacket pocket, she swapped the camera for her phone and hit the speed dial for her dad.
“Elise?” he answered immediately.
“I’m down by the Nishnabotna. East side, three miles north of the Shenandoah Bridge.” She panted. “Did you get in touch with the DEA again?”
“They’re on their way.”
“Good. I have to go.” She didn’t wait for his response but closed the call before zipping the phone safely inside her pocket. She watched as Cutch landed his glider forty feet from her.
“No!” she shouted at him. “Take off, take off! You’ve got to get those pictures to the DEA. Dad got in touch with them. They’re on their way.”
“They’re not going to get here before Bruce and his men. They’re at the bridge now. We’ve got less than three minutes.” As he spoke, Cutch unhooked himself from his harness and ran to her, reaching past her to the clasps that secured her harness to her glider.
“What are you doing?” she tried to push him away but grimaced as he brushed against her wounded leg.
“Elise?” He looked at her with concern, then followed her gaze down to where she’d tied the tape above the blood-soaked wound in her leg. “You’re hit?”
“Yes.” She bit back a sob and pushed him back. “Now leave. Get those pictures to the authorities. Please,” she pleaded with him.
But instead of obediently running for his glider, Cutch bent and scooped her up. “I’m not leaving you. We’re down to two minutes.” He ran with her to his glider and clipped her harness in place next to his before harnessing himself back to the glider.
“No,” she protested as he prepared to take off. “It won’t work, Cutch. We’re too heavy. I can’t run on this leg. We’ll never get off the ground.”
“Don’t run,” he said softly, his lips near her ear as he wrapped his arms around her. “Just hold the speed bar. I’ll carry you.”
Though she knew what he was trying to accomplish was likely impossible, Elise melted at the feel of Cutch’s arms around her. She obediently grabbed the speed bar and gave a gasp as his strong arms lifted her feet off the ground just as he began to run down the field. She knew he’d been a standout on the track team years before, and obviously he was still in excellent shape, but she still doubted he could get up enough speed to get them both off the ground.
Still, she tried to tuck her legs up out of his way. The wound above her knee throbbed, but the tourniquet had cut off much of the feeling along with the flow of blood. Her lower leg felt heavy but otherwise mostly numb.
Cutch’s long legs powered through a wide row in the bean field as the strong wings of the high-end glider caught the updraft coming off the river. The gusting wind billowed behind them, and Elise gripped the speed bar more tightly, as though she actually expected Cutch’s foolish idea to work.
Over the sound of the powered glider’s motor, she could hear the roar of the trucks coming up the road nearby to the east, but Cutch ran the length of the field alongside the river, keeping them the field’s-width
away from their pursuers. He seemed to gather speed even as the updraft lifted them off the ground.
“You did it!” she shrieked as they gained altitude.
“We did it.” His words surprised her with their gentleness and closeness, and she felt her heart thumping from more than just fear. Cutch’s arms wrapped around her securely, and she began to hope they might actually escape as they rose on the updraft that came up the riverside.
“Let’s get back across the river. They’ll have to go back to the bridge. That will buy us some time.” Cutch whispered close to her, and she angled them in the direction he’d indicated, surprised to find they were able to manage the delicate steering with remarkable ease, even with her wounded leg. They just seemed to work well together.
They rose higher in the sky as they crossed the river and soon found themselves flying at a comfortable altitude. Elise allowed her tense body to relax slightly.
Cutch obviously noticed. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” he assured her in a soothing tone. “How’s the leg?”
“Numb. Throbbing.” A little shudder ran through her. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” she offered quickly. “I just don’t want to think about how close I came…” She let her voice break off, certain he knew what she meant.
His arms tightened around her. “I was so scared for you. So scared. And for a moment I felt so helpless.”
“I can’t believe you came back for me. You could have gotten yourself killed, too.”
His lips brushed against her ear in spite of their flying helmets. “I would do anything for you.”
Elise couldn’t suppress the little shiver that traveled through her, though she knew Cutch had to be aware of it. His words held so much promise, and she wondered what his earlier revelation meant. If he really felt so bad about embarrassing her that night eight years before, did that mean he really cared? Before she could allow her thoughts to drift too far, she needed to get to safety and get some medical attention for her leg.
“We’ve got to find a safe place to land,” she reminded Cutch.
“How about the airfield? If your uncle Leroy is still there, he can help you with your leg.”
The airfield wasn’t far. “Good idea,” she agreed. “But I don’t know if he’s still there. Bruce’s men aren’t that far behind us, either.” She wished there was a way to contact the DEA agents and ask them to meet them at the airfield.
Maybe there was.
“Can you take the speed bar?” she asked.
“I don’t want to let go of you.”
“I’m harnessed in. I won’t fall. But somebody needs to steer this thing with both hands.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to try to call Leroy.”
Cutch hesitated. “Okay,” he agreed slowly and loosened the hold he had on her. When it was clear the harness mechanism secured her safely to the glider, Cutch let go and placed his hands next to hers on the speed bar.
“Got it?” she asked.
“Got it.”
Elise let go, well aware that she was placing all her trust—and her life—in Cutch’s hands. She quickly pulled the phone from her zippered pocket, careful not to drop it into the fields and trees below them, and zipped the pocket closed again over the camera that was still inside. She hit the speed dial for her uncle’s phone.
“Hello?” Leroy answered the phone with concern in his voice.
“It’s Elise. Are you at the airfield?”
“I am.” Leroy cleared his throat. “The sheriff is here—Sheriff Bromley. He’s waiting,” Leroy dropped his voice, and Elise could just imagine the sheriff standing by, watching him and listening in. “Don’t come,” Leroy whispered, his words sputtering out with a cough.
His message carried through loud and clear.
Elise thanked him and snapped the phone shut, relieved that she’d found out before sailing right into the sheriff’s trap.
“Did Leroy just say the sheriff is there?” Cutch asked, having likely overheard the whole conversation.
“Yes.” Elise bit back the fear that threatened to overwhelm her voice. When she looked back, she could see the red pickup truck and the last black SUV had already crossed the bridge again and were now tearing up the road, gaining on them. “Now where are we going to go? We need someplace to land—someplace close. Someplace we can hide but where the Feds can meet us.”
“The Old McCutcheon airstrip,” Cutch suggested.
“What?” Elise didn’t realize the place still existed. “Where’s that?”
“Back across the river. It’s overgrown, but the buildings are still there. Grandpa Scarth bought it from Grandpa McCutcheon years ago, pretty much as a favor to him when his money ran low. Grandpa’s never done a thing with it. But the old airstrip isn’t too overrun, and there are plenty of buildings to hide in. Call your dad. Tell him to meet us out there and to bring the DEA agents.”
“Will my father know where it is?”
“I’m sure he does,” Cutch said. “Just ask him.”
Elise got back on the phone.
Her father sounded relieved to hear her voice. “Where are you?” he asked.
“We’re in the sky, headed toward the old McCutcheon airstrip. Do you know where that is?”
“Of course I do.”
The pop of a gun behind them caused Elise to look back. Bromley and his men were within shooting range.
“Try to meet us there. Bring help—the DEA and paramedics. I have to go.” Elise hurried to put the phone in her pocket, zipping it shut tight before placing her hands next to Cutch’s on the speed bar. She’d need to focus if they were going to steer the glider back across the river. It was their only hope for staying ahead of Bruce Bromley and his men.
“Ready?” Cutch asked, and she could feel him tensing in preparation for the turn.
“Ready,” she agreed with a slight nod, and they angled their bodies as they pointed the nose of the glider back toward the Nishnabotna. Once again, she was amazed and pleased at how well they worked together. They swept over the swirling waters, and Cutch helped her guide the craft in the direction of the old McCutcheon airstrip.
Elise looked down behind them to check on Bruce and his men. “They’re splitting up,” she informed Cutch. “The red truck is heading north, and the black SUV is going south.”
“Makes sense. They don’t know which way we’re going to go once we get across, and we’re about halfway between the Shenandoah and Essex Bridges. So either way, one of them will be able to catch us in a hurry.”
“And tell Sheriff Bromley where to find us,” Elise finished for him. “We won’t have much of a lead. I just hope Dad gets there soon.”
“And I hope the Feds are with him. Did he say where they’re coming from?”
“I have no idea.” Elise hated to admit it. “He said the DEA was sending people, but unless they’re coming from nearby, it could be an hour or even several hours before they get here. And if Bruce tells his brother where we’re headed, he’ll get there first.” Her fear nearly choked off her words, but she felt the comforting touch of Cutch’s arms, as he let go of the speed bar she held and wrapped his arms around her again. She let herself relax a little in his arms. She didn’t have much choice. The pain of the injury to her leg made her feel lightheaded.
“We’re not going down without a fight,” he whispered. “God has brought us this far.”
Elise gulped a strengthening breath. “Whatever happens, we have to make sure the pictures make it to the authorities. Bruce Bromley’s drug operation has to be stopped.”
FIFTEEN
Cutch saw the dilapidated McCutcheon airstrip come into view. He reluctantly let go of Elise and took hold of the speed bar with resignation. They had to make it there if they were going to survive. But once they did, he’d no longer have any excuse to hold Elise in his arms. For a moment, he wished their desperate flight throu
gh the sky would last forever.
But the strain of their combined weight was already taking its toll on the glider, and he didn’t have to do much to get them pointed down toward the old landing strip. The ground came up to meet them quickly, and Cutch told Elise, “Keep your legs up. I’ll land us.”
He tried to avoid jostling her wounded leg, but he still saw the look of pain that shot across her features as they came to a stop and he grabbed her arms to steady her. She looked pale.
“You hanging in there?” he asked as he unclipped her harness and grabbed her up into his arms as gently as he could.
“Mmm-hmm.” She slumped against him without even putting up a fight.
Not a good sign.
With Elise in his arms, Cutch ran for the rundown hangar, peeling back a rusty section of tin siding far enough to permit them to duck in, since the doors were held shut with padlocks. It had been years since he and his little sister, Ginny, had played hide-and-seek there on trips with their grandfather, and for the first time he was glad the place had never been fixed up. All his old hiding places should still be around.
Pulling the tin back into place after them, Cutch hurried through the dim building to one of his favorite hiding places in the cockpit of a long-dead biplane that had been parked there for longer than he’d been alive. Years ago, his grandpa McCutcheon had tried to get the old bird to fly, but just like his pecan groves, he’d never been able to make her go.
And his grandpa Scarth had held onto the plane out of nostalgia and respect for the dead. It had been the only plane out of his grandpa McCutcheon’s fleet that hadn’t been sold off over the years to pay the bills. Cutch hoisted Elise up into the little two-seater, and the old leather seats creaked with age beneath them as they settled in. As he looked at the gleaming control panel before him, however, Cutch realized the plane had seen some attention as of late.
“I think I know what Grandpa Scarth has been working on so secretively,” he observed. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light inside the dusty building, he realized the plane had been completely redone. He wondered if his grandpa had finally gotten it to the point where it would fly again. It seemed unlikely since the plane was so old. More than likely the improvements were merely cosmetic.
Out on a Limb Page 17