by Richard Bard
Chapter 11
I WAS OUT OF BREATH and worried sick when we reached the ridge. After we flattened ourselves, I pulled out the binoculars and panned toward the three sets of headlights spearing upward through the trees. I was still focusing the lenses when a resounding crunch of metal against metal echoed up the hill and pulled my heart into my throat.
Sarafina gasped.
The nearest set of lights had gone out during the crash, but the trailing pair of headlights came to a stop and backlit the scene. The truck and the SUV had crashed head on, their noses accordioned against one another. There were shouts, and several flashlight beams bounced and weaved around the crash site.
“He gave his life,” Ahmed said under his breath.
No, it couldn’t be. Timmy might not be a genius with weapons, but my dad always said Timmy was one of the smartest guys he knew. And even though I believed he wouldn’t hesitate to put his life on the line for our safety, he wouldn’t have given it up without a good reason, and simply crashing into the truck didn’t make sense. It would’ve bought us a few minutes at best. So—
“Look!” Sarafina whispered, pointing to a silhouette dashing toward the boss man.
“It’s Timmy,” Ahmed said. “He must have rigged the SUV and jumped out.”
My skin tingled with relief.
Timmy grabbed the bag of cash and slid to a stop beside the boss man. He crouched and slapped the man across the face. The man moaned and Timmy slapped him again. Words were exchanged and Timmy smacked the man a third time. Then he grabbed the duffel and sprinted across the clearing—in the opposite direction of where we were headed.
The boss man sat up, waved an angry fist after him, and then collapsed back to the ground. The flashlight beams were about to break into the clearing.
“He’s leading them away,” Sarafina said, her expression pained.
Ahmed nodded. “Yes, and we dishonor his sacrifice by staying here.” He pushed to his feet and hurried us toward the game trail we’d been on the day before.