Chapter 118
S ULLIVAN HAD STASHED A CAR in the woods, probably for an emergency escape like this one. I held my ground, and put one, two, three shots into the driver’s side of the windshield.
But the Butcher kept coming!
The car was a dark-colored sedan. Suddenly it slowed. Had I hit him?
I ran forward, stumbled over a rock, cursed loudly. I wasn’t thinking about what to do, what not to do, just that this had to end.
Then I saw Sullivan sit up tall inside the car ? and he saw me coming for him. I thought I could see his mouth curl into a sneer as he raised his handgun. I ducked just as he shot. He fired again, but I was out of his sight line by inches.
The car started to move again, its engine revving loudly. I quickly holstered my gun and let him slide by me; then I dove onto the car’s trunk. I grabbed onto the sides and held tight, my face pressed against cold metal.
“Alex!” I heard Sampson yell behind me. “Get off!”
I wouldn’t ? couldn’t do it.
Sullivan accelerated, but there were too many trees and boulders for him to go very fast. The car hit a rock and bucked high; both front tires left the ground. I was almost thrown off the back, but I held on somehow.
Then Sullivan braked. Hard! I looked up.
He spun around in the front seat. For a fraction of a second we stared at each other, five feet apart, no more than that. I could see blood smeared on the side of his face. He’d been hit, maybe one of my shots through the windshield.
Up came his gun again, and he fired as I jumped off the car’s rear end. I landed on the hard ground and kept rolling.
I scrambled to my knees. Drew my gun and aimed it at the car.
I shot twice through the side window. I was screaming at Sullivan ? at the Butcher ? whoever the hell he was. I wanted him dead, and I wanted to be the one to do it.
This has to end.
Right here, right now.
Somebody dies.
Somebody lives.