Page 38 of Gone
“Stop right there!” yelled Ghost. “Don’t do anything stupid. There are way more of us than there are of you.”
Frank slowly turned, staring at Tommy, and looking up at the edge of the ravine.
“I don’t know who y’all are,” said Frank, “but this is none of your business. We just want the rest of our money.”
“It was never your money,” said Nine. “Put your weapons down.”
“Can’t do that, friend,” said Tommy.
“Believe me. I’m not your friend.”
Tommy did the unthinkable, taking the automatic rifle and firing at the ridge. He turned to Frank.
“Go! Find Francis. Tell her I love her, and…”
He stopped as bullets riddled his body, falling backwards against the shore. Frank gripped the rope, working his way through the icy water of the river toward the raft. Diving inside, he pushed off and quickly disappeared around the bend of the river.
“Did no one hit that damn raft?” yelled Gaspar.
“I think we all did. Remember, it’s reinforced,” said Miller. “I did hit him, though. He’s gotta be hurting.”
“I hit him as well,” said Ivan.
“Sly? Let the rangers and the feds know that Tommy Carroll is dead at this location. Frank Joest took off in our raft. We’re gonna follow for as long as it takes.”
“If he gets to the other side of the river, he’s going to be on the side with campers, hikers, and the general public. You’ve got to get to him before he makes landfall.”
“Shit. Why can’t this ever be easy?”
“Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” repeated Frank, trying to stop the bleeding at his shoulder and thigh. Only one arm was working to control the raft, and that wasn’t going to last for long.
Suddenly, the raft slowed, and he looked around at the river. Maybe his luck was changing. He’d hit a shallow rocky bed, the raft delicately balancing. Enduring the icy water, he rolled out of the raft and toward the shore. The water helped to slow the blood flow, but not for long.
“Where am I? Where am I?” he repeated to himself, looking around. He tried to find the land marker he needed. Two fire towers and a large peak with a section that jutted out, looking vaguely like a man’s nose.
“There,” he said with relief. “I’m almost there.”
He had to make it. He had to. The money was gone, lost in the river. His wife’s brother, dead. There was nothing left except his freedom. With or without Francis.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I think we have to face the facts that our little holiday is done,” said Erin, looking at all the other women.
“I hate to admit it, but I think she’s right,” said Lauren. “Maybe we should start packing up and head to a hotel. Code and Sly can notify the guys.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Lena.
“Ladies, I know that you’re incredible and certainly capable of more than many women I’ve known,” said Peter, “but this is a lot of equipment to haul out of here. We’re happy to help, but it’s going to take several trips to get it to the main parking lot.”
“We’ve got that handled,” smiled Sly. “We’ll have them air-lifted, just like we dropped them in.”
“Sounds like you guys have it covered,” smiled Peter.
He lent a hand where one was needed, but truthfully, the women had everything under control. The tents were easy to take down, the equipment packed in bins or large backpacks, and magically, the entire area was suddenly exactly as they found it.
“You all are simply amazing,” said the agents.
“You should see them at the holidays,” smirked Sly. “It’s like watching a million tiny elves bursting at the seams. It’s everyone’s favorite time of the year.”
