by Tom Crown
“We need to get you cleaned up,” Steve said. “If you go running around like that, with blood and fur all over you, someone’s going to shoot you, and get away with it too.”
Ryan turned his eyes down and looked at himself. Blood and fur stuck to his clothing, his arms, his legs. He looked like a werewolf beaten to a pulp.
“Jesus Christ!”
He began to scrape his arms clean while simultaneously looking around for anything that might help. A ditch was running along the tracks, its water low, but better than nothing. He stepped into it and desperately began to clean his hands and face. The smell was bringing back too many memories.
Steve stepped up beside him. “We’re getting company.”
Ryan looked off along the tracks. Train personnel was approaching, and picking up the pace. The man in front started to wave.
“I think we better get going,” Steve said. “I assume we’re still looking for Katia?”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
Ryan set off in the opposite direction and heard Steve fall into pace behind him. The train personnel began calling out after them, but Ryan had no reason to stop. He pushed onward and soon realized he was approaching an intersection in the distance.
Then he saw the Volvo flash right across it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
STEVE MADE SURE to keep up with Ryan as they spurted along the tracks, listening to the train personnel calling out in Swedish far behind them. For those people, it must have been entirely obvious that Ryan and he had placed the reindeer on the tracks and stayed to ensure the desired outcome. It wouldn’t be too difficult to convince them otherwise, but he didn’t want to show his face and risk ending up having to kill even more people without proper planning. It was a shameful waste, killing without taking the time to properly savor the experience.
“It’s up there!” Ryan called, pointing the way forward. The railroad crossing where Katia had raced by was only a few steps away. Steve looked over his shoulder one last time. No train was coming and their pursuers were lagging far behind. Probably the reindeer scene had stopped them for the time being.
Ryan began to veer off the tracks toward the Land Rover, which still stood where Steve had left it after Ryan jumped out of the moving vehicle. Steve felt the keys in his pocket and pressed the unlock button before Ryan even put his hand on the handle. The turn lights flashed and Ryan jumped in, leaving blood and fur sticking to the door.
Steve got in on the passenger side. “Good run,” he said and shot a grin in Ryan’s direction. “Nothing quite like the Lapland air.”
“Keys!”
Steve reached over and pressed the start button and watched as Ryan immediately raced the engine and shifted in first gear. The vehicle lurched into motion. As he reached for the seat belt he looked at the map on the GPS tracking screen. It was still possible for them to keep up with Katia’s movements, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to catch her once they really got moving.
Ryan was already turning the vehicle around, taking it out on the road they had just run along, back up toward the railroad crossing.
“She’s moving?” Ryan asked, apparently unwilling to take his eyes off the road.
“Yes. I’ll tell you when to turn.”
Ryan passed the railway crossing without looking left or right, going at a frantic pace now.
“She’s a nice girl,” Steve said. “Good hearted. Resourceful. And you probably were unnecessarily hard on her, I’ll give you that.”
Ryan glanced at him with a curious expression. He swallowed and eased his foot off the accelerator for a moment.
“I just landed in her blood,” he said.
“No.”
“Yes.” Ryan pressed his foot down in anger and the engine roared. “I know it was reindeer, but I thought...” He trailed off.
It had been Katia’s blood, in Ryan’s mind. Steve had seen the horror in his eyes.
“She’s alive,” he said, wanting Ryan focused and in control for another couple of minutes. “She’s still alive.”
Ryan nodded.
“Just look at the road,” Steve said after a moment. “And try to stay on it.”
Ryan pulled at his bloodied shirt and smelled it.
The GPS showed Katia speeding along a larger road that cut a straight line across the screen.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” he said, “but we’re falling behind. She’s on a better road right now, but we should be able to catch up again once we get there too. Very shortly.”
Ryan pressed the accelerator down again.
Steve sat back in his seat and relaxed for a moment. He liked the way he was able to urge Ryan on without ever straying from his friendly act. All he really wanted was for Ryan to catch up with Katia so that he could kill them both. This had gone too far. He needed to get rid of them, all of them, and then grab whatever money he could find at his house and at the farm. After that, it would just be a matter of getting the hell out. It would all get very ugly in the end, and he truly resented that outcome, but at least he would be the only one walking out of this alive.
* * * *
Ryan shifted gears again.
“Getting closer?” he asked with a quick glance in Steve’s direction. He was pushing the Land Rover so hard he could barely keep it on the asphalt through the sharp riverside curves.
“Less than a minute, if you keep driving like this.” Steve leaned over and took a quick look at the accelerometer. “A hundred and forty, that’s ninety miles an hour.”
Ryan pressed his foot down and felt the engine respond, and he noticed Steve sinking back in his seat again, adjusting his seat belt.
Ryan’s mind wandered to all the different types of road he had traveled, from the arduous mountain trails outside Kandahar to the straight lines cutting through the American west, and finally to this misty midnight landscape. He was always in the wilderness, always in a desperate rush, and he couldn’t shake the notion that he had to be doing something terribly wrong.
Suddenly his phone vibrated in his pocket. He had ignored it for a long time now and he realized he really shouldn’t. He shifted in his seat and pulled out the phone from his pocket. He had missed a dozen calls, most of them from Jenny. He glanced at Steve, who was looking at him curiously, and then put the phone to his ear.
“Yeah?”
“Ryan?” Jenny’s voice was frantic. “Ryan, thank God!”
“Hey, calm down. What is it?”
“Is Steve there?”
Ryan looked at Steve and nodded. “Steve? Yeah, sure, he’s...”
“No, don’t,” she interrupted. “Don’t say anything!”
Now he heard the panic in her voice, the absolute fear, and he felt himself turning cold. He eased his foot off the accelerator and listened closer, realizing he was hearing something else in the background as well, all sorts of noises that it took a moment to separate and identify.
“What’s that?” he asked, his voice calm and serious now, hoping to settle her down. “Is that sirens?”
“Ryan, don’t!” Her voice was breaking now. “Don’t say anything, all right, just listen!”
“Right. I will.”
“It’s Steve,” she said. “It’s...”
Ryan finally understood, but it was too late. Steve had already produced his gun and was pressing it against Ryan’s temple.
He lowered the phone in utter defeat. Somehow it all made sense now. He hadn’t seen it coming, like he surely should have, but he still wasn’t all that surprised.
“You,” he said matter-of-factly, keeping his eyes on the road. He still had the phone in his right hand and contemplated using it as a weapon, but he would probably get shot in the process, and would surely veer off the asphalt into the sturdy spruce that lined the road.
“Put it down,” Steve said.
Ryan nodded and slowly placed the phone in the center console, careful not to turn it off in case someone was still listening in on the other end. He imagined Jenny handing the
phone to a police officer, and all sorts of equipment being hooked up to it to trace them and analyze what was going on. But it was all in his imagination. Far more likely was that she had handed the phone to someone who didn’t speak a word of English and had never traced a phone call in his life.
“Steve Manning,” he said, for the benefit of any outside listeners. “I guess I should have known. I guess I should have seen it coming.”
And just then the memories came washing over him. It wasn’t Afghanistan anymore, but some time after that, when he had run into Steve in Las Vegas. The two girls at the table had been foreign, and there had been something off about the way they had kept their eyes on Steve, how they had observed his every motion, and so carefully clung to his side. Ryan hadn’t thought too much of it then, just struggling to have a good time, learning how to behave around people again. But now he saw it differently.
“You’re thinking too much,” Steve said and leaned over and turned off the phone. He flashed that eerie smirk of his again. Even that made more sense now.
“You have no idea,” Ryan said and glared right back.
“Just keep driving. She’s just up ahead.” Steve pressed the cold muzzle hard against Ryan’s skin. “Do exactly what I tell you and I’ll let her live.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
KATIA FINALLY GOT up the nerve to accelerate on the larger road, where the shoulders were wide and paved and the trees didn’t seem to flash by as fast. It was the first time she got to shift in the fifth gear and the higher speed felt uncomfortable, as if the car was rushing away from her. She hadn’t driven much in her life, not a single time legally, but she had always been a fast learner, and for a moment she felt a surge of pride. Then she fought that feeling back. She was driving this car because Ryan was dead, because she had killed him, and she had absolutely no reason to be anything but ashamed of herself.
Her eyes drifted over the contents of his car. Ryan had moved most of his belongings to Steve’s Land Rover earlier, but he had left his music in the center console, some magazines, an Iceland Air boarding card in the door, some trash, and even some sodas and snacks. She carefully leaned over and opened the glove compartment, but found it empty apart from the papers for the car. She didn’t even have a license, so the papers would do her little good. Still, people didn’t need any papers where she was headed.
The wind from the broken window in the backseat wasn’t as bad as she had expected, but the constant noise was starting to get to her. She hadn’t thought about it at first, but now that she did she couldn’t block it out anymore. She turned on the stereo to drown it out. One of Ryan’s discs was in the slot already, and it started playing after a few seconds. She didn’t recognize the music, a live recording, an upbeat song, a rock singer with a powerful, energizing voice. For a moment it made her smile again, but she quickly remembered everything that happened, and her smile disappeared. It was not her place to smile.
She swallowed hard and stared straight ahead, at the empty road, and the trees passing outside, hoping she wouldn’t meet anyone at all. Her plan was to continue driving until she found a place that was peaceful, where this would all finally end.
She began to look more closely at the landscape outside as she sped along. Everything was peaceful here. Finding a place wouldn’t take long.
Suddenly lights flashed in her rearview mirror. She looked up and saw the Land Rover approaching. She looked over her shoulder. It flashed its lights again.
It had to be Steve. They must have found Ryan’s body and were now coming after her, perhaps to tell her he was dead, if that’s what they were doing. Of course they wanted the car back, but more than anything they probably wanted to turn her over to the police. Why wouldn’t they? But all she wanted was to be left alone. She didn’t want to meet or talk to any more people. She wanted to clear her mind. Forever.
She steeled herself and accelerated, but the Land Rover still kept closing in. It kept going and going until it finally crept up right alongside her.
Katia looked to her left and saw the Land Rover only inches away. It was much taller than the Volvo, but she could still see Steve on the passenger side, waving for her to slow down with a cheerful smile on his face. Seeing him there surprised her and she moved her head to see the driver, but the angle wasn’t right, and before she got a proper look the Land Rover fell back again. Katia checked her mirrors.
And then she saw him, behind the wheel.
Ryan — still alive.
The realization came to her in a single moment, and her guilt gave way to a wave of paralyzing confusion. Tears began welling in her eyes and she felt her hands slipping from the wheel.
* * * *
Ryan saw the Volvo drift onto the shoulder of the road and took it as a sign to overtake it. That suited him fine. He still had a gun to his head, but he also had a plan, and it was time to execute it.
He pressed the accelerator and felt the Land Rover surge forward. The Volvo kept falling back behind them.
“Slow down,” Steve said, casting a quick glance over his shoulder, pressing the gun harder against Ryan’s head as he moved. He wondered morosely what hitting a pothole would do to him at this particular moment, but he knew he would never find out. He was doing a hundred and fifty, almost a hundred miles an hour, and it was time to act. He glanced in the mirror one last time and made sure that the Volvo was staying safely behind them.
“Sure thing.”
He set his plan in motion, pressing the clutch with his left foot and shifting the gear stick from sixth gear to first. Then he immediately let the clutch up again and at the very same moment slammed his right foot on the brake pedal.
The vehicle commenced a violently shuddering halt, braking with the engine and a tortured transmission and all brakes at the same time, skipping uncontrollably across the asphalt as it went, and Ryan yanked the wheel hard to make matters worse.
Steve was taken by complete surprise by the sudden maneuvering and hit the dashboard hard, but he was still holding on to the gun, and still pointing it at Ryan, and Ryan knew he only had a split moment to take action. He let go of the wheel and threw the full weight of his body in Steve’s direction.
Steve squeezed the trigger just as Ryan grabbed the weapon with both hands and pushed it down and away from him. He felt the bullet blaze past his legs and heard it hit the floor somewhere behind the pedals. He pushed on and tried to slam his shoulder into Steve’s face, but the seat belt stopped him just before his body made impact. Steve flashed a triumphant grin and raised the weapon again, but this time he simply swung it and struck Ryan across the face. The metal connected hard against the cheek bone and Ryan could feel blood well through the gash that opened up. His head recoiled but he kept moving his body forward, mindful of the belt now, determined not to give Steve enough space to fire the weapon again. He wouldn’t miss twice.
Ryan pressed his body against Steve’s and began hitting him all over, spine, kidneys, searching for any weak spot he could find. He felt the gun pressed against his side, but the barrel was parallel to his skin, and Steve’s right hand trapped between them, and Ryan was determined to keep it that way.
Steve pulled his head back and Ryan realized he was going for a headbutt, just about the most powerful thing anyone of them could try at that point. He saw it just in time to reach for the position lever under his seat and push back with his feet. The seat slid back all the way to the end position just as Steve’s forehead slammed into him, missing his nose but still striking his chest with considerable force. Ryan was ready enough for the blow and slammed his arm down hard on Steve’s exposed neck. He heard Steve cough and heard the gun land somewhere on the floor. He pushed Steve away from him and then used the increased space to position himself for a powerful kick.
Steve saw what was coming and fumbled with the door handle behind him.
Ryan saw the Volvo outside. The Land Rover had come to a complete stop with its engine dead and tires steaming, and the two vehicl
es were now less than a car-length apart.
Steve lunged for the gun and managed to swipe it from the floor just before Ryan realized what was going on.
Ryan kicked Steve hard in the chest just as he was pulling back again to fire the gun. He tumbled out the door and down onto the asphalt. Ryan released himself from the belt and lunged after him.
A shot went off. Ryan felt the muzzle flash hot against his belly just as he landed on top of Steve, but the bullet didn’t hit him. He slammed Steve’s head against the asphalt and then rolled off of him and went for the gun again. Steve aimed it once more, but erratically this time, and now Ryan saw that the previous bullet had hit Steve in the stomach. Blood was welling forth, staining his shirt a dark brownish red.
“Ryan,” Steve said, grinning, and still aiming from that awkward position on the asphalt.
“Put it down.”
Steve grinned. “Or what, exactly?”
Ryan didn’t reply. He just kept watching the gun, and Steve’s aim that was getting increasingly worse as his grip loosened.
“Why don’t you call the police,” Steve said hoarsely, trying to raise his head to look at the blood spreading over his clothes. It wasn’t clear if it was meant as a question or a suggestion, and Ryan didn’t care.
“Why don’t you put the gun down,” he said.
“No, I don’t think so.” Steve coughed. “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”
“Why what?”
“Everything.”
“I think I have it figured out.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Ryan began to circle closer, keeping his eyes on Steve. “I think you like playing games. But I don’t think you like losing.”
Ryan heard a car door open and looked up. Katia was stepping out, watching them both in confusion. He looked down again and saw Steve already turning the gun in her direction and beginning to squeeze the trigger. Ryan threw himself on top of him again and reached for the gun as he landed. It discharged between them. He struggled for the weapon without seeing what he was doing, until he finally got hold of it. He pushed himself away and up to his feet, the gun firmly in his hand now.