When they reached the bluff, she moved him to the arroyo and said, “Climb down.”
Hiyoki did, and at the bottom he thought about running into the cane, but her voice came from above, “Face down on the ground, arms out to the sides. Do it now.” He followed orders and heard the woman clambering down the arroyo like a squirrel. She was beside him in seconds.
The boat left by Felix and his partner floated twenty feet downriver, tied to an exposed root at the water line. She said, “Get in the boat.”
He did, and she stuck the pistol behind her back in her waistband before following him in, then she moved beyond him to the bow. She turned and sat, “Pick up the oar and row us to the other side.” She tapped the butt of the pistol, “No funny stuff or I shoot.”
Hiyoki rowed with an awkward rhythm, making it apparent to Hunter that he’d never rowed before. It wasn’t a straight crossing, but more like a drunken man walks, and because of the current, they landed against the bank sideways and both had to step into the water with the first step before coming onto dry land to stand in the clearing.
Hunter was five feet from Hiyoki when Ashton stepped into the small cleared area with his pistol leveled at Hunter.
Hiyoki looked at him and said, “Boss?”
Hiyoki’s word startled Hunter. Boss?
She looked at Ashton just as Hiyoki spun and kicked her in the side of the head, knocking her down as Ashton fired and the bullet went where Hunter’s face had been a second before.
Hunter was stunned and her body felt as if she’d been electrocuted, but adrenaline and survival mode kicked in as she scrambled on her hands and knees to get some distance between them.
Hiyoki trotted to her and kicked at her side, but Hunter brought up her leg and blocked the kick with her shin, then she rolled away and came up on her knees.
As Hiyoki snapped a kick at her head, Hunter snatched the pistol from behind her back and fired.
The .45 bullet went through Hiyoki’s foot, entering the sole and exiting the top of the instep in a red mist. His eyes widened as he fell backwards.
Hunter swung her pistol toward Ashton, but saw a dark form come from the brush behind Ashton and wrap a forearm around his neck, jerking back with such force that Ashton’s feet lifted off the ground and he dropped the pistol.
Lincoln Jones had the man in a chokehold, and wasn’t letting up.
Ashton’s face reddened, then turned purple. His legs thrashed and he clawed at Lincoln’s forearm, but to no avail.
Hunter staggered to her feet, with her wounded leg aching and throbbing like a giant toothache. She glanced at it and saw a new trickle of blood weeping from the bullet wound. She balanced on the good leg as she held her pistol on Hiyoki while he writhed and moaned on the ground, holding his mangled foot in both hands.
“Lincoln,” She said, “Don’t kill him.”
Lincoln held the chokehold a moment longer before dropping Ashton’s limp body to the ground.
Lincoln staggered and seemed to melt into a sitting position. Hunter saw the blood on his face and she limped to him, checking out the wound, low and on the rear side of his head.
Lincoln said, “Can’t see out of the eye.”
Hunter picked up Ashton’s dropped pistol and said, “Can you hold this on them while I get a medicine kit and call for help? It’s in my car over there.” She indicated the direction with a wave of her arm.
Lincoln nodded, his head rolling a little, like he was drunk. He stuck out his hand and Hunter put the pistol in it before limping into the brush. Passing over the low hills felt like climbing the Rockies.
She tried to hurry, but with the pain in her leg and the ringing in her ears from Hiyoki’s kick, she had to slow to a walk.
As soon as she reached the top of the last hill hiding her car, she saw the broken window and raised hood with ripped sparkplug wires hanging out and across the fenders like black spaghetti.
She looked inside, and saw the radio had been destroyed. Ashton, she thought. She leaned in the driver’s side and pushed the trunk button, sighing with relief when she heard it open.
The Model 870 shotgun was there beside the emergency medicine kit. She checked the shotgun and saw the magazine was loaded, but there wasn’t one in the chamber so she racked the pump slide and put a round of 12 gauge buckshot in the pipe, then lifted out the medicine kit, putting the strap over her shoulder, and started toward Lincoln and the two prisoners.
As she rounded the last of the brush and limped into the clearing, Ashton rose from behind Lincoln’s collapsed body, pointing a pistol at her as he grinned and said, “I’m gonna–”
Hunter fired the shotgun from the hip.
Ashton went backward as if shoved, dropping the pistol as he hit the ground. Hunter kept the shotgun trained on him, but Ashton only squirmed as if he was trying to scrape something off his back, then he was still.