I’d fired off two shots before they located me. That’s the problem with shooting at night with no flash-hider. They saw the second blast of fire from my barrel. Not that it helped them, not at this distance. They were still firing at shadows, and I was picking them off. Two bodies had gone down when the first of Spike’s flares landed in the compound. To get it so near the cabin, he must’ve crept up suicidally close. He chucked a couple more flares. They burnt orangey-pink and let off a lot of smoke. I fired off the final three shots from my clip before the smoke got too bad. They’d tried retreating back into the cabin, but were being ordered to spread out across the compound.
Which was just what we’d expected. That’s why Spike was way over one side of the compound and Bel, armed with two handguns, was over the other. The guards were firing now, spraying automatic rounds. From somewhere, I heard the unmistakable sound of Spike’s Ingram firing back. I took off the night-sight, put down the Varmint, picked up my Colt Commando, and waded in.
The compound was all smoke and circus lights now, but the breeze was dispersing the smoke as rapidly as it formed. I decided to frighten whoever was left in the cabin, so let off a few rounds at it. The walls were thin wood planks over wood studding. In films, walls like that could stop bullets, but not in real life. I drilled into the walls until I could see light coming out through them. Then someone turned the lamp out. I’d been firing high, guessing anyone scared would be ducking or lying flat. I hoped I hadn’t hit anyone I didn’t want hit. Then I realized something.
I realized I was the only target the guards had. A bullet from a handgun flew past my head. I squatted down and let off a burst with the Colt. I hit the gunman three times across his chest, sending him flying backwards into the dirt. I could hear Bel now, firing in quick bursts the way she’d been taught. One-two-three, one-two-three, like dance steps. And Spike, Spike was back on the range in Texas, wasting bullets but making plenty of noise. They must’ve thought there was an army coming at them. And it was working, the guards were firing but retreating at the same time. If you fire a gun while you’re moving, forget about accuracy. I held my ground and fired another burst from the Colt. It was fitted with a thirty-round clip. I had a few more clips in my pocket.
Then the cabin window shattered and someone started firing through it. I heard a dull thwump and realized they were firing grenades. I dived sideways, thudded into the ground, and started moving. The explosion was way behind me and over to one side, but it still lifted me off the ground. I felt the earth swell beneath my chest, like the planet was taking a deep breath, and the blast kicked my legs up into the air.
I lay flat facing the cabin and started firing, only to have the magazine die on me. It took a few seconds to reload, by which time another thwump had signalled a fresh grenade. I crawled again. The blast was a lot closer this time. It closed off my eardrums and rattled my head. I rolled and kept rolling, bits of earth and tree-bark raining down on me. There was nothing but a mute hissing in my ears, and somewhere behind it the distant firing of guns.
I tried to shake my head clear, and realized something had hit me. A rock or something. My left arm felt numb from the impact. I bit my fingers, trying to force some sensation back into them. Then got on to my feet and started firing again. There were bodies in front of me, three of them. They were lifeless. Two I had hit on the porch, and another hit since then, I couldn’t say by whom.
Then I saw another figure darting through shadow. I put the night-sight to my eye and made out Spike. He knew I could see him, and gave an OK sign with thumb and forefinger. Not that he could see me, but he gave it anyway. I fired another spray towards the cabin. There were no more thwumps, which meant that Kline only had the two grenades. Now I could hear a woman shrieking, and hear two men shouting. I checked over to my right with the night-sight, but there was no sign of Bel.
Then the cabin door flew open, and Alisha came stumbling out.
‘Don’t shoot!’ she yelled. ‘I’m not armed or anything!’ She was wailing, and holding her arm. It looked like she’d been winged.
‘Everybody else out of the cabin!’ I called. My voice sounded firm enough, from what I could hear of it. ‘Out of the cabin now!’
Spike had come forward and was yelling Bel’s name. There was no answer.
‘Go find her,’ I ordered, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. I took a slow-burn flare out of my pocket, stuck it in the ground, and lit it, moving away immediately. Spike was moving towards the side of the cabin. A man appeared at the cabin door. It was Jeremiah Provost. He had his hands up. Now that the flare was lighting up the scene, I saw he had blood on his white shirt. But it was a smear, nothing more, and I guessed it to be not his blood but Alisha’s.
‘Lie on the ground, Alisha,’ I ordered. ‘Why don’t you join her, Provost?’
‘Who are you?’ He wasn’t moving. ‘What do you want?’
There was a sudden pistol shot, and Spike slumped to the ground. I moved towards him, then realized my mistake. I half-turned in time to see Alisha drawing a gun from beneath her. I shot her in the head with the Colt. One shot was all it took.
Then I turned again, and saw Kline stepping over Spike’s body. He had his pistol pointed at my head. I ducked down, firing as I did so. His body fell forwards and landed on the ground. From behind him stepped Bel. Wisps of smoke were rising from the barrel of her pistol. The back of his head was matted with blood where she’d hit him.
She collapsed to her hands and knees and threw up on the ground.
‘Are there any of them left, Bel?’
She managed to shake her head. I turned the Colt to Provost. He’d come down the cabin steps and was kneeling over Alisha.
‘Why?’ he said, repeating the word over and over again. I left him there and checked the cabin. It was empty. The back window Kline had climbed out of stood wide open. Smells of forest and cordite were mixed in the air. I walked back out, and found Bel sitting on the ground next to Spike. She was stroking his forehead.
‘He’s alive,’ she said. ‘Should we move him?’
‘We may have to.’
I took a look. There was warm sticky blood all over his chest. He’d taken a clean hit in the front and out the back. If he’d been a little further away, the bullet might have stuck or burst open inside him. I didn’t know whether he’d live.
‘You got a stretcher here?’ I said to Provost. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes, and mouthed the word Why?
‘I’ll tell you why. Because she had a gun. Why did she have a gun? Because she wasn’t a Disciple of Love, she was working for Kline, the way Nathan was. Did you know Nathan was Kline’s brother? Did you know he was Nathan Kline? No?’ Provost shook his head. ‘It’s in the files in your own office. How come your beloved Alisha didn’t tell you? Work it out for yourself, but first tell me if you’ve got a first aid kit and a fucking stretcher!’
He stared at me. ‘No stretcher,’ he said. ‘There’s first aid stuff in the office.’
I turned to Bel. ‘Go fetch it.’ Spike was breathing in short painful gasps, but he was breathing. I went over to him again. His eyes were closed in concentration. He was concentrating on sticking around.
‘Spike,’ I said, ‘remember, you can’t afford to die. I suppose I better tell you the truth, Spike. There aren’t any guns in heaven.’
He almost smiled, but he was concentrating too hard.
I went back to Provost and stood over him.
‘Time to talk,’ I said.