Within a couple of miles of Kharrazi, Nick realized what he had forgotten. A plan. He was so incensed with the idea of rushing after Kharrazi that he failed to come up with a course of action.
He kept flinching at tree branches that scraped the windshield as they brushed past until he spotted the clearing for the makeshift runway. He darted the truck into the clearing and without obstructions was able to step down hard on the accelerator. He glanced down at the screen. Kharrazi was still on the road, but less then a mile away.
In the dark, Nick barely made out the silhouette of a prop plane idling at the far end of the dirt strip. He prayed Kharrazi wasn’t in contact with the pilot. He was completely conspicuous with his tires spitting up loose rocks just a couple of hundred yards away.
Nick headed for the mouth of the dirt road hoping to reach it before Kharrazi emptied into the clearing. When he barreled onto the road, Nick glanced at the GPS screen. He was headed directly at Kemel Kharrazi at fifty miles an hour without the slightest idea what to do.
Nick flirted with the notion of turning off his headlights, but that would force him to slow down to a crawl. He glanced at the screen again. Kharrazi was closing fast. When he looked up, he knew he wouldn’t need the device any longer. Kharrazi’s headlights bounced up ahead. A large pickup truck. The lights disappeared below a ridge, then popped up a moment later with renewed intensity. No retreat in their demeanor. Even Kharrazi’s headlights seemed evil.
Kharrazi had to see Nick coming and it had no affect on his velocity. He bore down on Nick like a heat-seeking missile. Suddenly, the plan became inevitable. In the game of chess you gladly lost a pawn to capture the opponent’s King.
With less than fifty yards separating them, Nick’s heart pumped furiously. He licked his lips and searched for an opening, but found none. They were on a collision course. Two bulls charging down a bowling lane lined with tall trees, nowhere to turn.
Kharrazi’s truck flew up over a rise and seemed to gather speed. Now it was a game of chicken. Kemel Kharrazi was a shrewd, conniving terrorist with sinister desires and malevolent aspirations.
But Nick Bracco was prepared to die. He was drained and weary and welcomed the repose that death offered. He was ready to go to the other side and apologize to Silk in person.
Nick slammed his foot down on the pedal and the truck lurched forward. Kharrazi also appeared committed. The front end of his truck jerked upward from acceleration.
They were twenty yards apart, both engines screaming into the night sky. As the intensity of Kharrazi’s lights blinded Nick, Julie’s face flashed in front of him. She was smiling. Nick had finally put a long-awaited smile on her face.
Just before impact, Nick clutched the steering wheel with both hands, closed his eyes and pressed forward. It took a beat longer than he anticipated, then the devastating explosion of the head-on crash jolted him forward. And then there was nothing.
Nick could’ve been unconscious only moments, but when he came to, he was disoriented. His mouth tasted of dust and his head throbbed unmercifully. A horn was blaring relentlessly. He had trouble focusing. He was sitting upright, strapped in by his seat belt and his hands felt pinned to his lap.
It took a moment to realize that the air bag had deployed. He could taste something powdery in his teeth and shards of glass blanketed the cab, including the dashboard, which was much closer than it should have been. His side-view mirror lay cracked in his lap along with a couple of branches. That horn. He tried to move his left arm and found that to be a useless chore. With his right hand, he pushed up and moved the bag from his face.
When he tried to turn his head, he yelped involuntarily and grabbed his neck. He looked down to inspect his body, but his world went spinning and he lay his head back and shut his eyes. The horn was coming from behind him. He was confused. How did Kharrazi get behind him?
Nick opened his eyes, twisted his entire torso around to the right, and followed the sound of the horn. Where the back window used to be, a clear opening existed. Shards of remaining glass clung to the border of the aperture. Through the opening, Nick could see a truck facing into the woods, its back end still sticking out into the road. The front end encircled a massive pine, which had stood its ground against the speeding mass of the truck. Nick couldn’t see anyone in the cab of the truck. He instinctively reached for his gun, even before his brain had the time to understand why.
Just before contact, Nick had shut his eyes, so he didn’t see it happen, but Kharrazi must have turned at the last possible moment. Nick had continued into a large tree. He hadn’t even thought about the air bag, but it certainly had saved his life. At least until Kharrazi found him.
Nick saw steam wafting upward from under the hood of Kharrazi’s truck. The horn still pierced the air. He was able to unholster his gun with his right hand. His left arm and shoulder were useless. Liquid dripped down the side of his neck and when he touched it with the back of his gun hand, he came back with blood. He looked up to see himself in the rearview mirror, but it was gone. He pulled the side-view mirror from his lap and saw lacerations streaking the left side of his face. They were already beginning to coagulate down to a slow ooze.
The truck’s engine was still running, but when he stepped on the accelerator, nothing happened. Everything looked real promising.
He was a sitting duck if he didn’t force himself out of the truck. First he unsnapped his seat belt harness and rolled to his right onto the bench seat. His legs seemed to be working properly, so he boosted himself up and, using only his right hand, he opened the passenger side door and hobbled outside of the truck.
Nick scoured the perimeter. He didn’t see or hear anything, but the truck’s horn dominated the sounds of the night. He wondered if Kharrazi had purposely managed to leave the horn blaring. It would cover up any peripheral noise he might make from the woods. It was precisely the kind of thing Kharrazi would do.
Nick found himself favoring his right leg as he limped toward Kharrazi’s truck. He worked his way there from a wide semicircle. Keeping his attention on the cab of the truck, he slithered between trees and undergrowth. It was an older model truck and didn’t appear to have air bags. When he was even with the driver’s side door, he saw something move inside the cab. An arm, or maybe a branch, moved from the other side of the cab. He stood motionless and saw it again. An arm seemed to be banging against the dashboard. No, not the dashboard, the steering column. Kharrazi was pounding his fist against the horn, trying to get it to stop. Nick watched cautiously, trying to evaluate Kharrazi’s condition before approaching him.
A moment later, the horn stopped.
It left a sudden void, which was filled with an eerie silence, like just before a hurricane was about to hit. Only the hiss of the torn water hose remained. Kharrazi simply sat there, his left hand pressed up against the side of his neck. Nick thought he heard moaning, and noticed the windshield was smashed. Kharrazi didn’t appear to be wearing a seat belt and there was no air bag. He must have catapulted through the windshield, then rebounded back into his seat.
Nick thought about firing a couple of rounds at Kharrazi. He was close enough. The man didn’t deserve a warning. Not Kemel Kharrazi. Finish it.