The Deep Zone: A Novel (47 page)

Bowman returned, carrying in his left hand both the odd weapon she had seen on the stealth flight in and the SIG Sauer.

There was something she did not understand. “Why are they coming after us like this?”

“We must have been approaching a secret camp. They can’t afford to let us get away now that we know its location.” He paused, checked the weapons. “Looks like you’ll get to shoot this sooner than we thought. It’s heavier than an AK and I’m not going to be any good one-handed. Twenty-four rounds. Look through the scope, put the pipper on your target, and squeeze.”

“Pipper?”

“Red dot. It’s the laser that tells the projectile where to go. For now just put out some suppressing fire.”

“What’s suppressing fire?”

Bowman actually grinned. “Just point it and shoot.”

“Give me the thing.”

Bowman handed her the weapon. It was much heavier than she had expected. She settled the stock into her shoulder, wrapped her right hand around the pistol grip, cradled the forestock in her bloody left palm, found the trigger. Her cut hand was on fire with pain, but she could manage it.

“Wait for them to shoot.” Bowman was getting his breath back. “The moment they stop, you pop up. Don’t linger. They can’t aim worth a damn, but they have a lot of bullets.”

“Okay.” She took a long breath, let it out, waited for a burst of automatic fire to end. When it did, she rose up, rested her elbows on
top of the boulder, pointed the weapon’s muzzle at the tree line, and squeezed the trigger.

The next thing she knew she was sitting on the ground. Her butt hurt from the impact, but she still had hold of the weapon. Bowman hauled her up with his good arm. “Sorry. It was set on full auto.” He moved the fire-selector switch to its semiautomatic position. “One round for every trigger pull now. It’s got quite a kick on full auto.”

The recoil had been worse than that of the 12-gauge shotgun she’d used to hunt geese on the Chesapeake, but the second time she was ready for it, leaning into the weapon, back leg braced. She rose up, fired four rounds, each a half second apart, saw them rip the air with yellow bursts at the tree line, dropped down again.

“Don’t fire from the same position twice.” Bowman was sitting with his back against a boulder, cradling his right arm with his left, his voice getting a little sloppy, his tan face starting to whiten. She looked, saw blood on his other side, just above his waist. He had been hit again while out in the open.

“Bowman.”

“Nothing to worry about. Stay on those guys. They’ll have your last spot presighted.”

Hallie moved ten feet to her left, popped up, fired three times, took cover again. The
narcos
were staying in the cover of the trees, but she had seen several edging out from behind trunks, hesitating, thinking about making a rush, then fading back.

“Bowman, what do we do when this thing is out of ammunition?”

“Fourteen rounds in the SIG. But before then, we should be on our way back to Reynosa.”

“You tripped an EPIRB?”

“Yes. It was a backup I carried in a suit pocket. Before I started after you.”

“How did you get out of the cave?”

He gave her an odd look. “Tell you later. Hell of a story.”

Bursts of fire from the
narcos
. “Wait.” She moved to the left ten paces, popped up, shot four rounds, dropped down, and came back
to Bowman. “They’re getting ready to do something.” She knelt on one knee, the weapon’s stock on the ground.

“What do you mean?”

“They’ve separated into two groups behind the tree line. I can see them moving back in there.”

“They can’t outflank us.” Bowman pointed behind them, where the cliff with the cave mouth rose two hundred feet straight up. “Ha. I wouldn’t have thought they knew enough to do it right.”

“What?”

“They’ll come in rushes. One group will fire to suppress you while the other advances. Then that group will go to ground and fire while the other advances. Pretty soon they’ll be close enough to use grenades.”

“I’ll shoot them as they come closer.”

“You’ll try. And you’ll get some. But it all comes down to math. I’m guessing there are twenty or thirty of them out there. Every one with an AK. Sooner or later, one will get you when you pop up to fire.”

“Not if I’m careful.”

Despite himself, he laughed. “You’ve got guts. But careful’s got nothing to do with it. Give me the weapon.”

She pulled back. “No. You can’t shoot it.” She moved out of reach. “Forget it.” There was an explosion, much louder than the AK-47s’ reports, out in front of their rocky parapet.

“Grenade,” he said. “Too far for them to throw all the way just yet.
Give me the weapon
.”

“No!”

Hallie had thought the first time she’d laid eyes on him that Bowman was not the kind of man you wanted to have angry at you. Now she realized how right she had been. The look in his eyes was like nothing she had ever seen. It made her think of an arcing high-voltage line. But then it faded.

“Stay here.” He crawled a few yards to his left, where there was a tiny space between two adjacent boulders. He passed his hand
quickly over it and there was a flurry of automatic rifle fire, bullets smacking and whining off the rocks in front of them, showering them with dust and fragments. “They had that one figured.”

He moved back to the right and lobbed two grapefruit-sized sized rocks out toward the
narcos. “Now!”

While the
narcos
were distracted by Bowman’s “grenades,” she stood, fired five quick rounds, sweeping the muzzle from left to right, then dropped again just as a dozen AKs replied with long bursts.

“Those boys have a lot of ammo. We’ve been shooting off some ourselves. By my count, we have six left.”

Bowman looked at the weapon, then in the direction of the
narcos
, then back toward the cave. Another grenade blast, closer. “Hallie. I want you to go back in the cave. Take this.” He extended the SIG.

“And leave you here? Never happen.”

His face tightened. “
Listen to me
. I can hold off one rush. Maybe two. But then … There’s no sense them getting both of us. And you can take the moonmilk with you.” He stopped and they both listened. The
narcos
were shouting back and forth, their voices clearly coming from two different directions, moving closer all the time.

“They’ve got their groups sorted out.” Hallie stared at Bowman as she said this.

“You have to go into the cave.”
Bowman’s voice was urgent, angry again. “When the team arrives, they’ll blow these guys to hell and get you out.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Bowman. So stop asking.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Of course I do.”

She did, and she didn’t. On the one hand, nothing had prepared her for this. But on the other, it felt strangely as if her whole life had been lived between two invisible converging lines that were about to intersect at a bright point she had always been able to see. It was the oddest brew of feelings. She was afraid, flushed with adrenaline, angry, sad. A thought flashed through:
Dad would be proud of me
. Hallie heard a flurry of shots from in front.

“They’re coming.” She slid right, popped up, fired two rounds at the rushing group and another at the one covering their advance. Screams, curses. While their heads were down, Bowman rose and, shooting left-handed, fired the SIG so fast it sounded more like a machine gun than a pistol.

Hallie looked at Bowman. An idea: “Why don’t we both run for the cave?”

“Without one of us laying down suppressing fire, they’d shoot us dead before we made it halfway.”

Then, for a moment, it was quiet. After so much noise for so long, the silence felt queer, more alien and threatening than the gunfire. She crawled over to Bowman, put the weapon down, locked her arms around him, and kissed him hard. Not much of a goodbye, but it would have to do.

“Where are the goddamned soldiers?” Hallie, a shout of fury and frustration. It was not supposed to end like this.

“They should have been here by now,” Bowman said, and Hallie heard the sadness of one who had waited too many times for help that never came. He gazed up at the empty sky.

“Wil.” She gestured helplessly, the right words lost somewhere beyond rage and grief.

He touched her face, his eyes full of pain as ancient as death, but his expression calm.

Then he turned to the front. “They’re close. They’ll be off balance coming over these boulders. Shoot as many as you can.” He got up on one knee, the Sig ready in his left hand. “Four rounds here,” he said.

She got to one knee also, weapon shouldered, ready for the final shots. She looked at Bowman’s face, awed by the peace she saw there, then past him and beyond the boulders and up to the sharp tops of the pines that were like spears, their green points touching the polished sky. A single bird, red as a new ruby, rose from the trees, and she watched it fly up and disappear into the sun.

They waited for the coming tide.

“MAJOR? YOU ASLEEP?”

Lenora Stilwell opened her eyes, shook her head, focused. It was Jeran, one of the night-shift nurses at Reed.

“No,” she rasped, her throat on fire.

“I brought the tape recorder, like you asked for.” The BSL-4 suit muffled his voice, but she could see the concern in his eyes.

“Thank you, Jeran. I think I’m going to need your help.”

“Yes, ma’am. Anything at all.”

“I want to make a message for my family.” She had thought about asking for a video camera, but, given the way she looked, discarded that idea immediately. “Only I don’t think I can hold the recorder. My hands …”

“Yes, ma’am, I understand.”

“Could you turn it on for me and just put it on my chest?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jeran did that. “I set it on voice activation,” he
said. “When you talk, it’ll run. When you stop, it’ll stop. I’ll go now, leave you with it. Check back in an hour or so.”

“Thank you, Jeran.” He nodded and left her alone. Stilwell took a deep breath, let it out, took another. She wanted to do this right, to keep the pain out of her voice, to tell them that it had not been bad.

“Hey, you guys. Doug and Danny.” She saw the little red light flicker when she spoke. “It’s me. I’m not in Afghanistan now. I know you haven’t heard from me for a while, but I also know that’s happened before, so hopefully you’re not too concerned. I’m okay. There have been some things going on that we couldn’t talk about. But don’t be worried. I’m good.

“I just wanted to tell you how much I love you both and how much joy you bring me. I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve you two, but …”

She paused, thinking where she wanted this to go. It was not about her. It was about them. What they meant to her.

“Do you guys remember the time when we went to that dude ranch in Wyoming? You were ten, Danny. On the first day, the wranglers were matching up all the guests with horses and they brought out this little pony for you. And you got mad and said, ‘I’m not gonna ride that midget thing. I want a real horse.’ So they brought you one, a mare named Sophy—remember?—and you rode her the whole time. That was so much fun. I will never forget the look on your face when they walked that pony out of the corral and brought Sophy in.”

She stopped, exhausted. She was up to about seven and a half, still managing, but knew it would not be long before she had to ask for serious meds. It was important that she get this done before then.

HALLIE’S FACE WAS TURNED UP TO THE SKY, WATCHING. THE
blasts of gunfire and grenade detonations continued, but she heard them as from a great distance. A soft, light breeze touched her face. There were no more thoughts, only a vast stillness enveloping her like mist in the mountains.

Suddenly a new sound, the whole world exploding. She looked at Bowman and knew. A barrage of grenades before their rush. In a moment the
narcos
would flood over their wall, shooting, killing them. She peeked over the rocks, watching the entire far meadow and tree line erupt in one long, roaring burst. But the
narcos
were not attacking. They were dying.