“What the hell’s going on with you? I didn’t think you’d want any part of that. You said you didn’t,” Rufus had said in wonderment.
“I didn’t. But once we made up our mind — hell, once I made up my mind — then all I’m saying is we should stick to it. I don’t like being no wimp on shit like that. If you’re going to do something, then you should do it.”
“Look, Josh, if Fiske hadn’t thought real fast, we’d both be dead right now. I don’t want you on my conscience.”
“See, that’s where you ain’t thinking. Hell, it ain’t going to get any worse than it is. Why don’t we see what we can do to help it get better? You were right: They deserve what’s coming to ’em. Seeing those two boys at Rider’s office, I almost shot ’em down in cold blood, and I ain’t never done nothing like that in my whole life. Fiske and that woman, they stood up for us. Maybe they’re shooting straight.”
Rufus had stared at him. “And you don’t have a problem with them?”
“What the hell, you think I’m racist?” Josh had pulled out a cigarette as he said this, a grin lighting his face.
“I can’t figure you out, Josh.”
“You ain’t got to figure me out. I ain’t figured me out, and I’ve had a long time to do it. All you got to do is decide if you want to go to Mexico or you want to stick it out. And don’t worry about me. If there’s anybody that can take care of himself, then you’re looking at him.”
That had done it, and as soon as his brother woke up, they were going to head back toward Virginia, hook up with Fiske and see what they could do. If it was proof that was needed, then they could get proof, somehow, some way, Josh believed. They had the truth on their side, and if that still didn’t count for something, then they might as well go ahead and get themselves shot up.
Josh eyed the surrounding woods. The leaves had already started to turn here, and the way the sunlight cut and dipped through the foliage presented a pleasing combination of colors and textures. He often sat in the woods when hunting; he’d find an old log and rest his bones, taking in the simple beauty of the country, a marvel that didn’t cost you a dime. After coming back from Southeast Asia, he had avoided the woods for several years. In Vietnam, the trees, the dirt, everything around you meant death by some of the most ingenious methods the Vietnamese could devise. He checked his watch. Another ten minutes and they would have to be on their way.
He looked back out the window and squinted as the sunlight reflected off something and hurt his eyes. He sucked in his next breath instead of letting it go, spit his cigarette out the window, started the engine and put the truck in gear.
“What the hell,” Rufus said as he was jolted awake.
“Get your gun and keep your damn head down,” Josh hollered at him. “It’s Tremaine.”
Rufus gripped his pistol and ducked down.
Tremaine charged from the woods and opened fire. The first shots from the machine gun hit the tailgate of the truck, blowing out one of the lights and riddling the frame with holes. A cone of dirt kicked up in the truck’s wake and momentarily blinded Tremaine, who stopped shooting and ran forward, trying desperately to get a clear field of fire on the truck.
Sensing what Tremaine was trying to do, Josh cut the wheel to the left and the truck went off-road and onto what appeared to be the dry remains of a shallow creek bed. It was a good move for another reason, as Rayfield came flying down the road in the Jeep from the other direction, trying to box the truck in.
Rayfield stopped to let Tremaine climb in and they went after the truck.
“How in the hell did they catch up to us?” Rufus wondered aloud.
“Ain’t no sense wasting time thinking about that. They’re here,” Josh shot back. He glanced in the rearview mirror and his eyes narrowed. The Jeep was more nimble and better built to maneuver through the woods than the bulky truck.