“They’re going to shoot out the tires and then they got us like sitting ducks,” Rufus said.
“Yeah, well, Vic should’ve shot those tires out first thing. That was his second mistake.”
“What was his first?”
“Letting the sunlight hit his binoculars. I saw that long before I spotted that little bastard.”
“Let’s hope they keep making mistakes.”
“We count on ourselves, and hope that’s enough.”
Back in the Jeep, Tremaine hung out the side and fired his weapon. The machine gun wasn’t really worth a spit long-range, although in close quarters it could take out an entire platoon of men in a few seconds; he wanted just two. He slipped the machine gun strap off his shoulder and pulled out his sidearm.
“Get as close as you can,” he barked to a very nervous-looking Rayfield. “If I can take out one of their tires, they’ll plow right into a tree and our problems are over.”
Rufus looked back through the window in the camper and saw what Tremaine was attempting to do. He slid open the glass separating the cab from the interior of the camper and drew a bead on the Jeep. He had not touched a gun in almost thirty years, basic training with a rifle his last experience with a firearm. When he fired, the explosion pierced his ears, the truck’s cabin immediately full of the sickening fumes of burned metal, flashed powder. The bullet shattered the rear glass door of the camper shell and then flew at the Jeep like an angry, metal-jacketed hornet. Tremaine ducked back into his vehicle and the Jeep swerved a little.
“Hit anything?” Josh asked.
“Bought us a little time.” Rufus’s hand was shaking, and he rubbed at his ears. “I forgot how loud these things are.”
“Try firing an M-16 for three years. They’re real loud, especially when they explode in your face. Hold on.”
Josh cut the wheel to the right and then to the left to avoid several trees that had toppled across the creek bed. Beyond was a mass of scrub pines, oaks and brambles. With the Jeep closing in, Tremaine was again taking up his shooting position. Josh cut the truck to the right and through a narrow cleft in the trees and brush, leaves and slender branches slapping and tearing at the truck. But the maneuver had its intended effect because Tremaine had to duck back inside the Jeep to avoid having his head torn off by a tree limb.
The Jeep slowed down. The narrow lane ahead opened up a little, and Josh decided to take advantage, hoping Rayfield was losing a little of his nerve.
“Hold the wheel,” he shouted to his brother.
Rufus gripped the steering wheel hard, alternating between looking at his brother and eyeing where the truck was heading.
Josh pulled his pistol and scanned the trees ahead. They were on a fairly level bit of ground now, so the truck didn’t rock as much. He gripped the pistol with both hands, doing his best to figure distance and speed, and then selected what he wanted: a thick oak branch high up on a forty-footer. The branch was at least twenty feet long and four inches thick, with other, smaller branches growing from it, and it hung directly over the narrow lane. What had drawn Josh’s attention was the fact that the branch was so long and heavy it had started to crack where it was attached to the trunk.
Josh slid his arm out the window, kept it parallel to the truck, took aim and started firing. The first bullet hit the tree trunk directly above where the branch joined it. Having now gauged the trajectory, Josh continued to fire, and each bullet after that hit squarely at the juncture of branch and trunk as the truck hurtled closer. For him it wasn’t that extraordinary a display of marksmanship. As a game, he had been shooting at tree branches since he was old enough to carry a.22 rifle. Scaring coons and squirrels, having fun. Still, he had never attempted it in a moving vehicle with two men shooting at him.
Rufus had to keep his eyes open to steer, but he scrunched up his face with each shot. His ears were ringing so loudly you could have shouted in his face and he would not have been able to hear you. The heavy branch dropped a couple of inches as its support weakened. Josh kept firing, as sprays of wood chips shot off the oak like steam from an old train engine.