It was hard to make good time on the uneven asphalt, the darkness so dense that even with the brights on, he could barely see twenty yards in front of the car. They were making progress but it was slow. And with the lack of road signs, it was impossible to guess how close they were to the Interstate.
It had been quiet in the car since they had parted company with the Kearney police officers. Steve was concentrating on the driving, Mike dividing his focus between his partner and the seemingly fixated man on the seat beside him. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Rutter was anticipating some kind of divine intervention.
Mike saw his partner's head recoil and heard the sharp inhale, and he looked through the windshield. He could see that the trees lining the left side of the road up ahead were now illuminated; another vehicle was heading towards them on the narrow road. This was the first traffic they were encountering since they'd been left on their own.
Steve tightened his grip on the wheel; for some reason, he felt uneasy and his heart begin to pound. He glanced into the mirror and caught Mike staring at him, and he knew the older man was feeling the same way. He snapped off the brights and reduced the pressure on the accelerator, and all three could feel the Galaxie slow slightly. He steered the sedan as close to the right edge of the blacktop as he could to allow what he finally recognized as a large old-fashioned pick-up truck to pass without a problem.
As the other vehicle got closer, Steve could see it slowing down as well. The brights were on and they were blinding. In the backseat, Rutter leaned forward slightly; his eyes widened and his smile got a little bigger. Mike, who had been watching him closely, began to glance quickly between Rutter and the truck coming towards them.
Suddenly the pick-up swung across the white line and stopped, straddling both lanes about ten yards in front of them. Steve slammed on the brakes and, although they weren't going very fast, all three were jolted forward. Mike reached out instinctively to prevent Rutter from hitting the back of the front seat.
The headlights from the pick-up, higher than those on the Galaxie, completely illuminated the interior of the dark green sedan. Steve sat perfectly still, trying to discern any kind of movement in the glaring light. Surreptitiously, he pressed the switch to roll the side window down, hoping the sound would be masked by the two running engines, straining to hear something, anything that would let him know what was happening. Mike was staring at Rutter's profile, trying to figure out just what was going on.
Through the open window, all three could hear the sound of feet hitting the blacktop, people jumping out of the truck bed. In the backseat, Rutter's grin got wider, and Mike's right hand went to the grip of his .38. His left hand snaked up behind the fugitive's back and he grabbed the smaller man's tee-shirt, twisting it tightly in a warning to Rutter to keep his mouth shut.
Steve swallowed heavily; his right hand had slid across his stomach, taken his revolver from the holster on his left hip and laid it on the front seat beside him, thumbing the safety off. The sedan was still in Drive.
Suddenly someone stepped in front of the pick-up and a silhouette was briefly outlined. Rutter caught his breath and his smile disappeared, replaced by wide-eyed terror.
Mike glanced quickly from Rutter through the windshield and back. "Steve, hit it!" he yelled at the top of his lungs as he grabbed Rutter and pushed him down behind the front seat. Almost simultaneously, the windshield exploded as bullets slammed into the Galaxie, making thunk-thunk-thunk sounds as they penetrated the seats, headrests and back window.
Steve had thrown himself down on the front seat the instant Mike yelled, turning the steering wheel sharply to the left and slamming his foot down on the gas. The large sedan shot forward at a forty-five degree angle and Steve raised his head enough to steer around the pickup, hoping there was sufficient room to get the sedan past the truck and keep it on the road and out of the shallow ditch.
He heard a loud thump as the right front fender connected with something that wasn't metal and there was an ungodly scream of pain. The deafening screech of metal on metal quickly followed and from the corner of his eye he could see the pick-up rock as the two vehicles collided.
Sitting up even more, he got both hands on the wheel and corrected the skidding Galaxie, the back tires spinning as he got it straightened out. The tires caught the pavement and shot forward. As the sedan peeled off down the blacktop, he heard several more rounds fired into the back. Hoping none of them had hit anything vital enough to bring the car to a halt, and knowing the tires were still inflated, he tore down the road at full speed, using his right hand in an almost futile attempt to remove the pieces of the shattered windshield in front of him.
"Are you okay back there?!" he shouted towards the backseat and relaxed slightly when he saw Mike's fedora in the rearview.
With his left hand still on the back of Rutter's tee-shirt, Mike had pulled the smaller man back up into a sitting position and quickly checked him over. "We're fine back here!" he yelled, fighting the wind blasting through the now missing windshield. "You?!"
"I'm okay!"
Mike slammed Rutter back against the seat. "All right, so who was that?! And don't tell me you don't know 'cause I know you do!"
The anger in the detective's eyes and voice, and the strength of this grip on Rutter's tee-shirt, jarred the fugitive out of his silence. He nodded rapidly, breathing heavily and fast. "Yeah, yeah, I know them – it's the Scobies!"
"The Scobies?!" Mike sounded surprised. "I thought it was the Caudills your family was feuding with?!"
The car slid around a tight curve and they were thrown to the left. Mike, unable to stop himself, slammed into Rutter and gasped. Steve, trying to keep his eyes on the road, glanced quickly into the back seat. "You okay back there?!"
Righting himself, Mike snapped back, "I said we're fine!" He turned back to Rutter, fire in his eyes. "So what's going on with the Scobies, Donald?!" he hissed, using the abbreviated Christian name deliberately and tightening his grip on the tee-shirt again, then watched as the smaller man cringed, all the defiance now gone.
"They're, ah, they're after me. They think I sold some of their kids some bad heroin last year, one of the boys died. It wasn't me, I swear, but they think it was and nothin' I say or anyone says for that matter'll change their minds. They swore they were gonna kill me!"
"Great," Steve yelled from the front seat, "just what we need!" He expertly steered the sedan around another tight corner. He kept glancing into the rearview mirror but so far he had seen no sign of the pick-up, or any vehicle, behind them, and luckily nothing had come towards them either.
Realizing Rutter was now probably on their side, Mike loosened his hold on the tee-shirt. "How far do you think it is to the Interstate?"
Rutter shook his head, glancing around, trying to get his bearings. "Ah, I don't know, another few miles at least."
"Did you hear that, Steve?!"
"Yep!"
"How do you think the gas is holding up?!"
"I think we're gonna be okay -!"
There was a loud bang and the sedan suddenly slewed across the road. Steve fought the wheel but the Galaxie had been going too fast and with a blown tire, he had no control. He slammed on the brakes as the large Ford slid into a sideways skid towards the ditch on the far side of the road. The steering wheel shot out of his hands. The car fishtailed, the trunk and back wheels slipping into the ditch first, and as the car continued to slide onto the gravel shoulder, its left side rocketed up about thirty degrees, the tires continuing to spin as they left the ground, then slammed back onto the dirt and bounced to a halt.
The engine had stalled and suddenly everything was eerily silent. Steve was the first to move. He was still sitting behind the wheel, his hands at his sides, his heart pounding, breathing rapidly and noisily through his open mouth. As if in a trance, he reached for the door handle and gasped in surprise when the door groaned open and the dome light snapped on. He turned unsteadily on the seat and put both feet on the ground before pushing himself up.
Safely outside the car, he seemed to suddenly remember he wasn't alone. "Mike?!" he yelled as he turned towards the back seat, reaching for the handle and pulling the heavy back door open.
On top of Rutter, Mike was pushing himself up from the gap between the two rows of seats and he looked up at Steve in stunned silence. Sitting back, he grabbed Rutter by the back of his tee-shirt again and pulled the smaller man up then towards the door.
"You're okay?" Steve asked his partner worriedly, as Rutter crawled out from the backseat and stood, wobbly.
Mike nodded as he slid across the seat, reaching out with his left hand to pull himself out of the car. "You?"
"Yeah, yeah," Steve said shakily, realizing he was trembling as he put a hand on Mike's arm as if to reassure himself that they were both all right. He looked around quickly, up and down the deserted road and then at the dense forest on either side. "We've gotta get outa here," he said quietly.
Mike nodded. "I know. But we can't stay on the road, they'll find us for sure."
"So, what? We go through the woods?"
Mike looked at him with a tilted head and Steve could almost make out the raised eyebrows in the inky blackness. "You have a better idea?"
Steve turned to Rutter. "You know the terrain around here. You're in more danger than we are right now. What do you think?"
The small man's eyes flicked briefly from one cop to the other; they could both see the terror he wasn't even trying to hide. "Yeah, yeah, it's our only chance. But you gotta take these cuffs off and you gotta keep up. The Scobies know these woods better'n I do and they'll be on us before we know it."
Steve had already fished his handcuff key out of his pocket and he undid the cuffs while Rutter held his hands out. The smaller man rubbed his wrists as Steve clipped the cuffs on the back of his belt. "Wait a second," Steve ordered and he climbed back into the car and laid across the front seat. He dropped his left hand down into the well and felt around until he found his gun. Then he opened the glove box and rooted in there. Turning off the headlights as he got back out, he slammed the door, holstered the .38 then held up a small black flashlight. "I thought they might have one," he said triumphantly, and Mike nodded his approval.
Turning towards the woods, Rutter hesitated for a split second then started to move. "Through here," he said and pushed some branches back.
With a quick glance to each other, Steve followed Rutter into the bush, Mike on his heels.