Night Rescuer. Cindy Dees
grinned over at him. “For rent by the hour, or the night?”
He grinned back. “I hesitate to think of the state of the bed linens.”
She nodded. “We go on.”
“I can’t promise the next village will be any better,” he warned.
She shrugged. “I’m learning to enjoy not playing by the rules. Let’s do our own thing tonight.”
He grinned over at her. “I like the sound of that.”
They drove for another hour as the sun set behind them and twilight settled outside. When the hills had turned a colorless gray and the trees were black silhouettes looming over the road, John exhaled in what sounded for all the world like disgust.
“What’s up?” she asked quickly, picking up on his disquiet.
“Traveling at night in this part of the world is asking for trouble.”
That didn’t answer her question. What wasn’t he telling her? She pressed. “What kind of trouble?”
He shrugged and glanced at her. “Pick your poison. Anything from roaming wild pigs to Shining Path guerrillas.”
“The way I hear it, they’re not so different.”
John laughed. “I dunno. Those pigs are pretty smart.”
The lightness of the moment faded along with the last vestiges of twilight. She asked soberly, “So what are our options?”
“Here’s the thing. The guy in the last village lied to me. He said the next town was forty kilometers away. No more than an hour down this road. We’ve gone sixty-five kilometers, and there’s no sign of civilization anywhere near here.”
Alarmed, she blurted, “What does that mean?”
“I imagine our friend has called ahead to some sort of welcoming committee who’ll be out here looking for us before too much longer.”
Melina jolted, looking around outside, wildly.
“Easy, darlin’. We’re far from defenseless. I’ve got a few aces up my sleeve.”
Just then he gripped the steering wheel tightly and swore under his breath. She peered up ahead and made out some sort of large, irregular obstruction lying across the road. It looked like a fallen tree.
“Looks like it’s time to pull out one of those aces,” she bit out.
“Climb in the backseat,” John ordered tersely. “Hurry.”
She complied with alacrity, falling in an ungainly heap on top of something hard and sharp in his gear bags.
He continued, “In my green duffel that you’re lying on, pull out the big gun on top and a couple of pistols, and pass them up here. Then buckle yourself in back there. We’re going cross-country. It’s gonna get rough.”
He wasn’t kidding. He swerved hard to the left, off the road. They banged down and up again through some sort of ditch, and then they took off across an open field strewn with stands of trees and brush. In a matter of seconds, the Land Rover was bucking and bumping over the most god-awful terrain she could imagine. John fought the steering wheel like it was a wild bronco, muscling it forward by sheer force of will. It was an impressive display of strength.
Apparently, the field was some sort of drainage or flood zone, for it was streaked by gullies. Thankfully the gashes, varying in size from a few feet deep to large enough to swallow the entire Land Rover, were mostly dry at the moment. Mostly. Mud splashed up, covering the vehicle’s windows until Melina could barely see outside.
A crack of sound, like a truck backfiring, made her jump.
“Get down!” John yelled, flooring the accelerator.
The ride went from horrendous to epic in its discomfort. Amusement park rides had nothing over the pounding she was taking back here! She lay down in the backseat for a few moments, but got so sick so fast that she had to sit up again. She braced a hand against the ceiling to protect her head from banging into the metal roof. How John could see where he was going, she had no idea. It was pitch-black outside, and he’d turned off the headlights. A few more cracks sounded, from behind them this time. She thought she heard faint shouts, but she couldn’t be sure.
After a few minutes, the ride smoothed out some, which was to say it went back to merely terrible. A splash of water slammed the window beside her, startling her badly. However, it also washed most of the sticky mud off the window. They were running along the bed of a river-size gully, a high clay wall looming outside the window. Periodically, they crashed into pockets of standing water, some as deep as the front fenders. But the sturdy Land Rover plowed right through them.
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