“And you,” Ryan stated in a voice that brooked no argument, “go get some more fuel from the last truck, and as you come back here, give some to each wag and pass along the warning to the others.”
“You really are serious,” Stephen said hesitantly. “But if this is an ambush then we should”
Ryan jabbed the barrel of his SIG-Sauer into the man’s soft gut. “Git,” he snarled.
“Okay, okay.” Stephen jerked open the door and stumbled out, nearly falling in his haste to get away.
Shouldering his Uzi, J.B. lifted the hood in a squeal of rusty hinges. Now the two men could talk without raising their voices.
“Boulders must come rolling in from the right and slam-hit the wags,” J.B. said, pretending to tinker with the distributor. “The natural reaction would be to turn and shoot the guys doing it to stop them from sending more your way.”
Ryan faked a yawn and stretched his arms. “Which means the real attack will be from the left, catching us unawares from behind.”
“Any chance we could drive the truck into the trees and catch them by surprise?”
“No way. The trunks are too tightly packed.” Wiping off his hands, J.B. lowered the hood and gave it a slap to lock it tight. “Which only leaves us one option.”
“Yeah, I know,” Ryan said, smiling and starting the engine. The two men smiled widely and shook hands as if conquering a tough problem.
“Bet these are the rest of Phillipe’s crew.”
“Most likely.”
“Think the trucks can do it? That’s a lot of punishment! One slip and we’re dead meat.”
“Guess we’re going to find out. When you only have one choice, don’t waste time dithering and worrying get it over with.”
“Done,” Stephen said, climbing into the cab smelling of fuel. “What?”
“Now the killing starts,” Ryan told him, passing the man a spare grenade. “Know how to use it?”
Stephen nodded and started to unwrap the tape that held the arming lever in place.
Whistling a happy tune, J.B. climbed into the rear of the wag, and thumped the roof, signaling he was in position.
“Eight-second fuse?” Stephen asked, swallowing twice before the words would come out.
Drawing in a deep breath, Ryan exhaled slowly. “Yeah, but throw on five to be safe.”
Keeping a foot on the clutch, the one-eyed man started the truck forward slowly, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But his hand stayed on the gearshift.
The other vehicles tagged along behind him, keeping formation. Hands clutched blasters and eyes darted everywhere, waiting impatiently. But nothing occurred until the convoy reached the middle of the pass.
A distant rumble caught his attention, and glancing out the window, Stephen screamed when he spotted a line of boulders rolling down the hill, coming straight for them.
“Run for it!” he shrieked, pulling on the door handle.
Ryan wasted a precious tick clubbing the man quiet with his blaster, then he shoved the truck into high gear and savagely twisted the steering wheel, turning straight for the oncoming boulders.
If this had been summer with the hill covered with green grass, Ryan knew they wouldn’t have a chance, the old bald tires slipping on the slick growths. But this was autumn, and the dried dead grass gave them a slim chance of surviving the mad tactic.
The view through the windshield was pure chaos as the truck bounced onto the hill and started to climb the steep slope. Banking to the left, but staying on an angle so he wouldn’t tip over the wag, Ryan fought the struggling truck to greater speeds and headed directly for the largest rock. The boulder swelled before him and they passed each other, missing by inches. Any hunter knew you aimed where a moving target would be, not where it was.
But more rocks were thundering down the slope. The deafening noise escalated louder than cannon fire, and the whole world seemed to be shaking apart as tumbling granite passed before the vehicle so close the spray of loose dirt washed over the truck, blanketing the windshield.
Temporarily blinded, Ryan hit the wipers, but only the passenger’s-side wiper worked. Slowing a notch, he stuck an arm out the window and yanked his wiper into motion. His view cleared, and he savagely turned the steering wheel, but it was too late. The truck sideswiped a tree stump, and the bumper ripped off from the chassis, the impact slamming his head against the roof. As a dizzy Ryan fought to control the shuddering truck, it started to dangerously tip over, then miraculously righted itself again.