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One of the young men from the Hummer, who was wearing a Dean Martin–style hat and a sweatshirt with grier printed on the back, wandered near the trees, unzipped his pants, and relieved himself.
“Weekend church retreat?” Jo said.
Von smiled. It looked robotic. “Twenty-first-birthday party. Daddy’s picking up the tab.”
Gabe took the jumper cables. His face was flat and his eyes alert. Jo got in the cab, fired up the engine, and maneuvered the truck grille to grille with the Hummer. Gabe raised the hood.
It took only a minute to get the Hummer started. The starter ground for a few seconds and then the big engine gunned to life, harsh and whiny in the mountain air.
The green-faced young man climbed to his feet. Swerving back across the clearing, he opened one of the Hummer’s doors and grabbed a water bottle. He sauntered over to Autumn and nuzzled her neck.
She pushed him away.
“God, Dustin. You smell like puke.” Gabe glanced inside the open door of the Hummer. Jo saw it too: a gleaming silver handgun with a telescopic sight.
Von said, “It’s a replica.”
The man in the Edge Adventures cap wiped his palm on his jeans and extended his hand. “Kyle Ritter. Don’t worry none about the guns. They’re for show.”
Gabe smiled, as robotically as Von had. “Just wondering what sort of birthday party you’re celebrating.”
Von took a business card from his shirt pocket. “Edge Adventures. The ultimate in urban reality games.”
Dustin walked over, water bottle hanging from his hand. “Yeah, we’re federal agents, guarding our prisoner. See?”
He opened the front door of the Hummer. A rifle was propped on the seat. Jo recognized the curved ammunition clip and tall front sight on the stubby barrel. It was an AK-47.
The girl whose feet were protruding from the Hummer sat up. “Badass. We are badasses.”
She pitched back on the seat again.
Jo checked the jumper leads. The Hummer’s engine was gunning. “Think you’re all set.”
Gabe disconnected the cables from the pickup’s battery. Jo caught his eye. He was wearing The Look.
Not his laid-back all-is-well look. The other one. It set Jo’s nerves on edge.
He slammed the hood of the pickup. Casually, he said, “Let’s roll.”
Von stuffed the rag in his pocket, his eyes on Gabe. “The weapons are decommissioned.” He gestured at Peach Fuzz. “Friedrich’s an ex-cop, and we have former military on staff. Everything’s cool.”
“Great.”
Gabe leaned into the crew cab and put the cables away. Under his breath he said, “Bullshit.”
He glanced at Ritter. “His gun’s patently a toy, something the guy picked up at a Battlestar Galactica convention. But the others are working firearms.”
Behind him, one of the girls turned up the music and began dancing. Ritter slammed the hood of the Hummer. Von clapped his hands. “Everybody, let’s go.”
Gabe glanced at them edgeways. “I’ve been on one of these role-playing weekends. In Finland, with a bunch of think-tank guys. Executives playing Cold War. One side gets captured by a Russian tank, then out pop the 'Soviet’ invaders—a bunch of Finnish lingerie models in Red Army hats. They had real Kalashnikovs, but it was obvious at a glance they’d been deactivated. The barrels were plugged. The firing pins had been removed. Colored tags were hanging from their muzzles to identify them as 'safe,’ ” he said. “Whatever this game is, it’s a bad one.”
“Let’s go.”
Jo was planning to drive straight down the mountain to the sheriff’s station. When she got there she’d tell the deputies about this drunken rodeo.
Behind her, Dustin stood by the door of the Hummer. “Lark, where’s Peyton?”
They looked around. The blonde in raspberry velour had wandered into the trees.
“Peyton,” Lark called.
Dustin shouted, “Mackie, get back here. We got boot camp. And after that, you got escaped felons to hunt.”
He reached into the Hummer and picked up the AK-47 from the front seat. “Peyton, come back before I come after you.”
He slung the strap over one shoulder like he was Rambo. The muzzle began to come up.
Gabe jumped at him. “Don’t.” He got his hand on the barrel and pushed it down. “Aim the barrel downrange. Never aim it at anybody.”
Dustin spun away. “What’s your problem? The gun’s fake. Fake.”
He ostentatiously swept the rifle in an arc, aimed it at the trees, and pulled the trigger.
The rifle fired. Four shots in a close burst, the sound cracking the air. Orange flame spit from the barrel, cartridge casings ejected, and the rounds hit the trunk of a pine. One two three four, splintering the wood in a rising progression.
The girls screamed. For the time it took to blink, Jo stood shocked. Then she yelled, “Get down,” and dived to the ground behind the pickup.
Gabe lunged at Dustin, twisted the rifle from Dustin’s grip, and shoved Dustin away from him. “What the hell are you doing?”
Dustin stared at the rifle with horror. “Jesus, what—? That thing . . .”
Peyton ran into the clearing. “What was that?”
Autumn clenched her fists in front of her mouth. Her eyes looked like silver dollars. Dustin gazed at her, baffled and terrified.
For a moment, the echo of gunfire stank around the clearing. Ritter looked stunned but hyperalert, as if ready to jump—in what direction, Jo couldn’t tell. Von, his face white, raised his hands calmingly.
“Sorry. It was supposed to be a surprise. My fault,” he said.
Gabe spun on him. “Surprise?”
“Live-fire exercises when we get to the assault training course.” He tried to smile. “That shouldn’t a happened.”
Autumn raised both hands and said, “That’s it. I’m out.”
She stalked toward the back of the Hummer. “This entire thing is screwed. Where’s my phone? I’m calling my dad.”
Von turned. “No.”
She opened the luggage compartment. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
She froze. Then she screamed.
In the luggage compartment, a large green duffel bag had fallen partially open. A body was stuffed inside. A man’s blood-soaked shirt was visible. Autumn lurched back. Friedrich charged, grabbed her by the hair, and twisted her to her knees.
Gabe took the rifle in both hands and brought it up and got his finger on the trigger. But behind him came the sound of a slide being racked on a semiautomatic pistol. Von and Friedrich both had guns in their hands, aimed at his head.
“Put it down,” Von said.
Jo saw Gabe inhale. He was calculating. But the gunmen were too far apart to guarantee he could hit them both before they could get him. And there were too many people in the field of fire.
“On the ground,” Von said.
Gabe put the rifle down and raised his hands.
For a moment the air seemed to tremble. Then the young man with grier on the back of his shirt turned and bolted for the trees.
Friedrich swung his gun and sighted it on the kid’s back. The boy pounded toward the forest, arms flailing.
Autumn and Lark screamed, “No.”
“Friedrich,” Von yelled.
Friedrich fired. The shot blew Grier off his feet.
Chapter 11 (#ulink_6525575c-8145-5d99-95c6-bbf1baa9bf97)
Grier dropped to the dirt like a bag of sand. The shot echoed. Blood bloomed through his shirt. Autumn screamed, a loud, continuing wail.
Ritter shouted, “What are you doing?”
Jo lurched to her feet. And found a pistol pointed at her face.
“Don’t move,” Friedrich said.
A quicksilver fear rolled through her. Friedrich looked frantic. The gun was matte black. The bleak eye at the end of the barrel wandered across her face.
She struggled to keep her voice level. “I’m holding still. I’m unarmed.”
Peyton applauded. “Bravo.”
She wandered to the center of the clearing, offering a big, slow handclap. “Give Grier a hand.” She whistled. “Grier, you can get up. Take a bow.”
Autumn pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.
Peyton waved, broadly, at Jo and Gabe. “And welcome our newest escaped convicts.” She laughed again. “Don’t you get it? They’re with Edge.”
Dustin looked like he’d just pissed himself. Noah stood, hands raised, blinking like a strobe light. Gabe was sweeping the scene with his gaze, checking that nobody else with a weapon was behind him. He was looking for an out.
Von aimed his pistol at Ritter. “Get Grier out of sight. Into the trees.”
Ritter cringed across the clearing. He picked up Grier’s feet and began dragging him away. Von casually took out his phone and snapped a photo of the body.
Peyton watched, swaying. Grier’s face dragged along the dirt, painting a trail with blood. Slowly, finally, understanding fired in her eyes. She gasped. Then she ran for the trees jaggedly, arms extended, hands like starfish.
Von picked up the rifle and tossed it to Friedrich. “Get them all in the Hummer.”
He racked the slide on his pistol and charged after Peyton.
Autumn screamed, “No!”
Friedrich shoved her into the Hummer, then swung the gun toward Dustin. Hacking—“Don’t shoot me”—Dustin stumbled in after her. Autumn clutched at him. Friedrich leveled the gun at Noah’s knees.
“Chill, man. I’m going.” Hands out, gesturing for calm, Noah climbed in as well. Lark was right behind.
Friedrich grabbed Jo by the biceps and beckoned Gabe. “You too. Right now.”
Gabe’s gaze was riveted on Friedrich. On Friedrich’s momentum and direction and his jittering gun hand. Jo knew what he was thinking, what he was desperate to signal to her: Don’t get in the Hummer.
If she climbed in that vehicle she was trapped. The quicksilver ran cold in her veins. She balked in Friedrich’s grip.
He shoved the gun against her side and shouted at Gabe. “In, now. Or she gets a new orifice in her rib cage.”
“Don’t,” Gabe said. “Lower the weapon. I’ll get in.”
In the trees beyond the clearing, Peyton’s screams deteriorated into sobbing. Von reappeared, hauling the girl by her hair. She was barely keeping her feet beneath her.
Gabe climbed into the Hummer. Jo stood rigid on the dirt. Friedrich rose on his toes and put his orange mustache near her ear.
“This gun has fifteen in the magazine. If you’re not in the vehicle in two seconds, I’ll start with your boyfriend.”
Jo couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow. She climbed into the Hummer.
Von shoved Peyton in behind her, sobbing. The girl fell to her knees on the thick carpet. Lark grabbed her and held her tightly.
Ritter finished dragging Grier’s body to the trees and staggered back, tracked by the rifle under Friedrich’s gaze. Ritter’s eyes looked wild, spinning with shock.
“Hurry up,” Friedrich said.
Von turned to make sure Ritter was cooperating. Jo looked at Gabe. Last chance—the door on the far side of the vehicle. She scrambled across the Hummer.
Friedrich fired the pistol into the backseat. The report was shockingly loud. Fabric flew and cordite stank up the air. The screaming came from all directions.
“What the fuck?” Dustin yelled. His gaze rounded on Jo. “Hold still.”
He grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and yanked her back. She fell on her butt on the floor.
Jo sank her fingernails into his wrist. Then Gabe grabbed Dustin’s arm and twisted, quick and sharp.
