here. We need to end this.”
I took a step from behind the rock, the bag still clutched tightly to my chest. The Mexicans emerged from the trees then, one with a tight grip on Trudy, the other with a gun pointed in our direction.
“You get one chance,” said the one with the gun. “Throw the bag over here. Then you,” he said, pointing at Randy, “you toss your guns and your keys. You don’t follow us and we’ll let you live.”
“But what about my money?” Randy said. “I had nothing to do with this!”
“We heard everything. We know you are friends. I’m not sure how you planned to rip us off, and I don’t care.”
Trudy struggled against the grip of the other Mexican. “Don’t do it, Jack!” she yelled. “They’re punks. They’re not going to kill anyone!”
The Mexican with the gun turned and fired, hitting Trudy in the shoulder, the bullet driving her head back and sending her and the other man still holding on to her reeling. She screamed, and blood began to spread across her shirt as she fell. The man holding her scrambled out from under her.
“You son of a bitch!” I yelled, stepping fully around the rock. The Mexican turned and aimed. As he pulled the trigger, Randy leaped in front of me. I felt the force of the bullet as it slammed into his back, pushing both of us to the ground.
Mark, who had been standing a few feet away, unholstered his gun and in one motion shot the Mexican gunman in the chest, then ran, the gun held in two outstretched arms the entire time, across the clearing toward the other one and Trudy, sprawled on the ground.
“Police! Get away from her now!” he shouted, keeping the gun trained on the Mexican’s head. The Mexican rolled away from Trudy. When he was on his stomach, Mark stepped forward and put a boot in his back. “Hands behind your head.” He pulled a zip tie from his pocket and secured the man’s hands, then went over to check on Trudy. She was holding her shoulder with her good arm, moaning softly, rolling back and forth on the ground.
I pushed Randy off of me and rolled him onto his back. His eyes were slits, his face a chalky white. I ran to Trudy's side and put my hand on her burning forehead.
"You gonna be OK?" I said.
"Maybe."
I rose and shoved Mark hard.
“You guys are cops?” I yelled. “Since when?”
“The whole time,” he said. “College was our cover."
I walked over to Randy, still flat on his back.
“Then why did you let me take the fall? One word from you and I wouldn’t have gone to prison.”
He swallowed, then grimaced in pain. “It was that packet in your pocket. I vouched for you, but when they found that, all bets were off. They said you weren’t worth blowing my cover over.”
As I sat next to him, shivering from the cold setting in as the sun began to go down, I felt something wet seep under my hand. I looked down to see rivulets of blood leak out from under Randy’s back.
Mark, supporting a staggering Trudy whose good arm was draped across his shoulder, came up to us. “Jesus, Randy. We gotta get you guys out of here,” he said.
I wiped Randy’s blood off on the wilted grass and stood.
“Why didn’t you guys tell us you were cops?" I looked down at Randy. "On the phone; you could have said something. You could have ended this. No one had to get hurt.”
Mark, fumbled in his pocket for a cell phone. He pulled it out, keyed 911, then put it to his ear. “Randy didn’t want to blow the bust,” he said while waiting for the call to connect. “We don’t want these guys. We need to go higher up the chain.” He swung Trudy’s arm over his head with his other hand and led her to me, then knelt at Randy’s side as he talked in low tones to the dispatcher.
How could I not have seen it? I wondered. Looking back, things never did add up. Randy never going to class. Mark showing up so often. Hell, a hippie speed dealer? I looked down at Randy, his face still twisted in pain. I realized that I wanted him
I took a step from behind the rock, the bag still clutched tightly to my chest. The Mexicans emerged from the trees then, one with a tight grip on Trudy, the other with a gun pointed in our direction.
“You get one chance,” said the one with the gun. “Throw the bag over here. Then you,” he said, pointing at Randy, “you toss your guns and your keys. You don’t follow us and we’ll let you live.”
“But what about my money?” Randy said. “I had nothing to do with this!”
“We heard everything. We know you are friends. I’m not sure how you planned to rip us off, and I don’t care.”
Trudy struggled against the grip of the other Mexican. “Don’t do it, Jack!” she yelled. “They’re punks. They’re not going to kill anyone!”
The Mexican with the gun turned and fired, hitting Trudy in the shoulder, the bullet driving her head back and sending her and the other man still holding on to her reeling. She screamed, and blood began to spread across her shirt as she fell. The man holding her scrambled out from under her.
“You son of a bitch!” I yelled, stepping fully around the rock. The Mexican turned and aimed. As he pulled the trigger, Randy leaped in front of me. I felt the force of the bullet as it slammed into his back, pushing both of us to the ground.
Mark, who had been standing a few feet away, unholstered his gun and in one motion shot the Mexican gunman in the chest, then ran, the gun held in two outstretched arms the entire time, across the clearing toward the other one and Trudy, sprawled on the ground.
“Police! Get away from her now!” he shouted, keeping the gun trained on the Mexican’s head. The Mexican rolled away from Trudy. When he was on his stomach, Mark stepped forward and put a boot in his back. “Hands behind your head.” He pulled a zip tie from his pocket and secured the man’s hands, then went over to check on Trudy. She was holding her shoulder with her good arm, moaning softly, rolling back and forth on the ground.
I pushed Randy off of me and rolled him onto his back. His eyes were slits, his face a chalky white. I ran to Trudy's side and put my hand on her burning forehead.
"You gonna be OK?" I said.
"Maybe."
I rose and shoved Mark hard.
“You guys are cops?” I yelled. “Since when?”
“The whole time,” he said. “College was our cover."
I walked over to Randy, still flat on his back.
“Then why did you let me take the fall? One word from you and I wouldn’t have gone to prison.”
He swallowed, then grimaced in pain. “It was that packet in your pocket. I vouched for you, but when they found that, all bets were off. They said you weren’t worth blowing my cover over.”
As I sat next to him, shivering from the cold setting in as the sun began to go down, I felt something wet seep under my hand. I looked down to see rivulets of blood leak out from under Randy’s back.
Mark, supporting a staggering Trudy whose good arm was draped across his shoulder, came up to us. “Jesus, Randy. We gotta get you guys out of here,” he said.
I wiped Randy’s blood off on the wilted grass and stood.
“Why didn’t you guys tell us you were cops?" I looked down at Randy. "On the phone; you could have said something. You could have ended this. No one had to get hurt.”
Mark, fumbled in his pocket for a cell phone. He pulled it out, keyed 911, then put it to his ear. “Randy didn’t want to blow the bust,” he said while waiting for the call to connect. “We don’t want these guys. We need to go higher up the chain.” He swung Trudy’s arm over his head with his other hand and led her to me, then knelt at Randy’s side as he talked in low tones to the dispatcher.
How could I not have seen it? I wondered. Looking back, things never did add up. Randy never going to class. Mark showing up so often. Hell, a hippie speed dealer? I looked down at Randy, his face still twisted in pain. I realized that I wanted him
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