Chapter 14 – Nathan
CHAPTER 14
NATHAN
T he short barrel of a silver snub-nosed revolver extended into the room as the man leaned in through the window. As his head came through, I thrust the blade of my knife under the curve of his jaw and grabbed his wrist. The initial spurt of arterial spray spattered a diagonal red line across my chest, but I was armed with his weapon before he registered what had happened.
Gunfire crackled by the front door, and I knew exactly where to find the other two. Screaming tourists on the beach scattered as bullets perforated the doorjamb, sending splinters of wood into the hotel room. Someone with enormous strength kicked the door straight in and off its hinges. Blondie . I fired two shots at his chest, but I must be wildly off my A-game because only one clocked him in the shoulder. His torso twisted as he stepped back behind the wall before I could lob a third round at him.
Knowing we weren't getting out the front door with Blondie there, I turned toward the now broken sliding glass door, looking out toward the brilliant freedom of the beach.
A second man peeked around the side of the sliding glass door for a split second, then ducked out of sight. With an unreliable gun and only four bullets left in the wheel, shooting through the wall would have been a gamble at best. I moved three feet from where I had been standing so his aim would be off when he mustered the balls to shoot at a guy with a gun trained on him.
To my surprise, he gave shooting me, a man he knew had a gun trained in his vicinity, a try! As his head started to peak around the corner, I fired three shots in the tightest group I could, catching him in the eye socket just as he saw I'd moved position. Blood, tissue, and skull fragments splattered about as his head cocked back.
I rushed toward the bathroom, hoping and praying that Emma had the presence of mind to get her clothes on despite the commotion. I tried the knob and found it locked. Good girl…
“You’re not walking out of here, Mr. Blake.” A horse voice yelled from outside the door. They know my name? "Mr. Blake?" Man, that sounds odd to me. "Officer Blake," maybe...
"We’ll see about that." I said to myself.
Moving forward and picking up Emma’s shoes from beside the open front door, I raced to the bathroom door again. I tapped lightly three times on the brass knob, and the lock clicked softly as she turned it slowly.
When the door opened a crack, a wide-eyed Emma looked back at me. "Is this what they call the 'honeymoon phase?" she asked. "The what?!" I shout-whispered at her. "You know, the phase of a new relationship when you meet someone and..." two rounds crackled past my shoulder, landing in the door frame just inches from our conversation. " I swung my shooting around, and Blondie backed away for cover before I could get a bead on him. "...and everything seems perfect because you're infatuated and ignore their red flags." I saw that she was already dressed and handed her shoes to her.
"Red flags? You mean like, 'My hobbies include candlelit dinners and dodging bullets'?"
"Yes, exactly."
"You think my hobbies are bad? Blondie's dating profile's probably just grunts."
"Or muscle emojis." she replied.
"Emojis are a red flag?"
Taking her hand, I jerked my head to the side, motioning for her to follow me. "I gotta update my profile..." I whispered as we moved towards the sliding glass door.
If these guys were brazen enough to raid a vacation rental in the middle of the day with civilians in plain view, there was nothing stopping them from gunning us down on the beach in front of God and everyone.
Emma’s freshly soaked hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and her clothes clung to her wet skin. Our immediate danger felt like an elephant atop my chest. It took effort to push any distractions or feelings from my mind, but they crept in anyway. A mental image of her lying on the bank of the river with blue lips and droplets of water clinging to her lashes flashed in my mind.
This was no time for distraction or fear. This requires total focus. She's depending on me to come through. I scanned the room, wondering if I'd counted right and that there were only three armed men after us.
The broken sliding glass door looked out toward the hiking-trail. Would it be easier to lose Blondie in the jungle rather than the beach?
I go out first and you climb out after me, I mouthed the words, signing with my hands. She nodded in agreement.
We would need to move fast, and everything was riding on me spotting him before he could spot me.
Broken glass crunched under our feet as we delicately tried to exit through the sliding glass door. I made sure both ways were clear and that there was no broken glass we could get snagged on. My eyes darted from one corner of the bungalow to the other as Emma stayed behind me.
Blondie peeked around the corner and fired three more shots in our direction. I returned a shot in his direction, connecting with the side of the bungalow instead of Blondie, but making him take cover so we could make a run for it. "Go, go, go!" I whispered to Emma, and she ran for the trees with me on her heels.
I walked backward, using my last bullet to shoot at Blondie when he tried to persue. With that, I was out of ammunition, the compact revolver now dead weight. I dropped the gun and we ran, gunshots ringing out behind us as bullets pelted the sand at our feet.
“Keep going.” I yelled at the agitated brush in her wake. “Don’t stop!”
Heavy footfalls behind us meant Blondie wasn’t giving up. Luckily, he hadn’t spent the last several days moving through this terrain like we had. A sudden rush filled my lungs with new determination, a plan forming in my mind.
"Emma, I'll catch up! Don't slow down!
"What?!"
I feared she'd stop, but she kept on running.
It would be a risk and I would have to trust that if we got separated, she would be able to keep herself safe until I was able to find her. Veering off the path and behind a tree, I caught my breath and waited to see if Blondie would notice me or continue down the trail.
The last time we tussled, I broke that man's eardrums. And I'd bet money–and apparently my life– that he couldn't hear me barreling toward him from behind.
I grinned devilishly when he clobbered down the game trail past me, knowing this plan could work.
I easily caught up to the lumbering beast. He was moving slower now, breathing heavily. It might have been the blood loss from the gunshot in his shoulder or just running full speed to carry his bulk in the jungle heat.
I reminded myself that this man was trying to end Emma, kill me, and was stopping at nothing, even public violence, to do just that.
I drew my knife and leaped at his back, slamming into him with my full weight as I drove the blade into his ribs.
We slammed forward, the weight of my momentum forcing us forward onto the ground. I got three quick jabs into his side before we slammed straight into the trail, the third jab lodging the knife between two ribs. I tugged at the blade, but Blondie popped a blind shot off somehow, a bullet whizzing right by my head. No doubt he doesn't realize his fate is already sealed with the plunges from my blade.
My ears rang, and warm liquid poured down the side of my face, a searing bolt of pain emanating above my ear.
Blondie bucked me off his back, flipped over, and sat up, scrambling to draw his gun on me with both hands gripping it solidly.
Catching him by the wrist just as he nearly aimed at my face, I frantically wrestled for control of the gun.
The tendons in his neck tensed. His eyes bulged, wild with determination and rage. He gnashed his teeth, sounding like gravel being crushed as he ground them together. Veins bulged from his neck to his forehead, pulsing visibly with the effort he was exerting.
He pushed against my grip with all his might, muscles straining and trembling as he tried to bring the gun to my nose. His face turned a mottled red, and his breath came in ragged, labored gasps, as his lungs filled with blood.
Every fiber of his being was trained on overpowering me–and he was slowly winning the fight. The raw intensity of his struggle was palpable, each second stretching out in the deadly contest for control.
I eyed the blade still stuck in his side, frustrated that my weapon was lodged in his side, and contemplated wiggling it to bring him into submission.
His eyes widened as he let loose a ragged scream, his bloody spittle landing on my face as he let go of the pistol with one hand, reached to his side, grasped the knife with his big meaty hand, and yanked the blade from his own body.
The bloody knife flashed in my peripheral vision, and I knew my exposed side was his target. I freed one hand from wrestling with the gun to keep him from stabbing me, the tip of the knife grazing my forearm arm, the tip jabbing my side but not going in .
Great. I strained against the force of his biceps curling inward. He's got both weapons and I’m about to be deleted off the census!
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and a wicked grin crept across his thin lips as he slowly overpowered me. His gun hand moved millimeter by millimeter closer to my face, and the knife now pressed into my side.
His eyes shifted to one side as Emma brought a rock the size of a cantaloupe down onto his forehead. The skin in the middle of his forehead broke open to reveal a yellow patch of exposed skull.
His arms went limp, and I collapsed atop him.
I took a moment to catch my breath, then wrenched the gun from his burly hand, the grip still warm.
Standing above him, I made eye contact with Emma. She knew what I was going to do and looked away.