Sam Kinney and Miguel were passing Fort Leaton when they recognized the terrorist in the sedan going in the opposite direction. Sam put on the brakes and said, “Did you see him?”
Miguel said, “Yes. He’s getting away.”
Sam cranked the wheel and turned the pickup around. He pushed it hard and passed Fort Leaton again, going in the opposite direction. They could see the sedan, already farther down the road than they would have thought. Sam said, “What a day to leave my .45 at the apartment.”
Miguel said, “You have the little rifle.”
Sam looked at the rifle scabbard mounted behind the windshield visors, “I guess a .22 is better than nothing if he starts shooting.” He pushed the gas pedal a little further.
Both vehicles flew around the curves and floated over the uneven dips in the road. There was little traffic, and when there was, they shot around it, barely slowing. Drops of rain began to fall, and Sam gripped the wheel tighter as he looked at the black storm over the Bofecillos Mountains. That’s a bad looking cloud, he thought. Lightning showed at steady intervals along its length and deep inside.
***
Hunter Kincaid drove the l
ast of Casa Piedra road and reached the intersection with the River Road just as Sam flew by in front of her. She saw the old rancher put his arm out the window and give her a come on signal. She pulled out to follow, muttering, “What the heck?”
Already late for the Activities Center presentation, she decided to follow Sam, and accelerated to catch up with him. On one straightaway, she saw another vehicle far ahead of Sam’s pickup, but no other traffic. Her Tahoe slowly gained, and when she was close enough, she saw Miguel looking at her through the back window.
Hunter took out her iPhone, rolled down her window and held it out for Miguel to see. Miguel talked to Sam, and the rancher shook his head no. Miguel tried to show Hunter with hand signs that Sam didn’t have his phone. “Crap,” she said.
Accelerating on another straight portion of the road, Hunter pulled up beside the pickup and rolled down her passenger window. Sam’s window was down, and he yelled and pointed ahead, “The terrorist! Holland is in that car!”
“Are you sure?”
“Hundred percent!”
“I’ll call it in. Don’t wreck!” Sam nodded and sped up again as Hunter pulled behind him. She picked up her car mike just as a bolt of lightning struck twenty yards to her left with a concussive crack that made her jerk and drop the mike.
“God o mighty!” Hunter said, and felt her heart hammering. She saw Sam swerve away from the bolt when it hit and now he wrestled with the pickup to regain control as sheets of rain rolled over them. Looking beyond Sam, Hunter realized they were gaining fast on Asadullah.
***
Asadullah flew through the small town of Redford, heedless of any cross traffic. He had to do something soon, for they were gaining on him with every mile. The land around the road was shredded with dry arroyos, ridges, and rocky, house-sized hills as bumpy as alligator backs.
The terrain extended all the way to the dark mountains on his left. To his right was the Rio Bravo, and Mexico beyond. He had travelled this road only twice, and was not familiar with it, except for a few places. He decided on one place, and accelerated through the rain.
***
When Hunter passed Polvo Road, she radioed Sector and told them of the chase. The dispatcher told her that all available law enforcement people were in Presidio because of a terrorist attack, and they were hunting for the terrorist named Asadullah there.
“That’s who I’m chasing.” Hunter said. “Let them know.” She hung up the mike and concentrated on the road, barely visible through the heavy downpour. The three vehicles raced across the cracked and broken pavement at Calabazar Canyon and all of them fishtailed.
Hunter regained control faster than the other two, and hoped that Asadullah would crash and burn. But he didn’t. Sam ran completely off the road, smashing through creosote bushes and cactus for a hundred feet before lining out the pickup and coming back on the pavement behind Hunter’s vehicle.
With Sam and Miguel out of the way, Hunter edged the speedometer toward 80. She would soon be close enough to ram the terrorist off the road. Adrenaline hummed through her body as her mind raced over possible scenarios.
They passed over the alluvial streambed that originated from the mouth of Auras Canyon, some two miles north of the road.
A half-mile further, Asadullah hit his brakes and turned off the road, sliding sideways through rocks and gravel and creosote before he forced the sedan onto a dirt road that went north, towards the mountains.
Hunter was going too fast and shot by him. She hit the brakes and slid to a long, fishtailing stop on the wet pavement, then worked the wheel and turned around.
Sam had seen it, and turned the pickup on the road to chase Asadullah. Hunter turned in behind Sam as she muttered, “Pay attention, stupid.”
The rain lessened, and Asadullah realized the storm was now over the higher mountain range, looking as black as midnight, with winks of lightning deep within it.
This is good, he thought. A light rain was better for him, whether moving or fighting. The sedan bounced over a white outcrop of rock in the road, lifting the tires off the surface, like running over a washboard. Asadullah heard and felt the bottom of the vehicle scrape the rocks time after time. He did not slow down.