Rufus, he hollered. On the count of three.

Start counting, Rufus shouted back, tremors of fear in his voice. Three seconds later Josh opened fire on Tremaine, the bullets pinging off the Jeeps frame. Rufus hustled to the back of the truck. He was stopped there, however, when Tremaine managed to fire a burst between the truck and the shack. The air smelled of gunfire, and of the sweat of frightened men. Josh and Rufus looked at each other, and then Josh cracked a smile, sensing the rising panic in his brother.

Hey, Vic, Josh yelled out, how bout you throw down that damn widowmaker and come on out with your hands up?

Tremaine responded by blowing a chunk of wood off the shack a little above Joshs head.

Okay, okay, Vic, I hear you. Now, you be cool, you hear me, little buddy? Dont you worry, well bury you and Rayfield. Aint gonna leave you for the bears and shit to chew on. Thats bad shit. Animals eating dead bodies. You saw that in Nam, didnt you, Vic? Or maybe you was running too fast the other way to see that. While he was talking, Josh was motioning for Rufus to stay put and then pointing around the shack to show his brother what he was going to do. Rufus nodded to show he understood. Josh was going to try to flush the man into his brothers field of vision and let Rufus cut him down. Rufus gripped his gun and slipped in a new clip, grateful that his brother had taken the time to show him how. He was having trouble breathing; his arms felt heavy holding the gun. He was afraid that he would not have the nerve, the killer instinct, much less the skill to shoot the man down, even if Tremaine came at him, firing with that damn machine gun. Rufus had fought many men in prison in order to survive with his hands only, even though his opponents had always been armed with a shiv or piece of pipe. But a gun was different. A gun could kill from a distance. But if he didnt shoot, his brother would die. And for once he could not pray to God to help him. He could not speak to his Lord for assistance in killing another. In a half crouch, Josh made his way across the front of the shack, stopping at intervals to listen intently. Once he dared to raise his head up to one of the windows, in order to perhaps see through it and out the rear window to where the Jeep was, but the angle was wrong and his view was blocked. Josh was totally focused now. The fear was still there, it was very much there, but he had done his best to transform it into adrenaline, to heighten every sense he possessed. He pointed his pistol directly in front of him, knowing full well that if Tremaine had figured what his plan was, his best course of action would be to slip out from behind the Jeep and come around the shack the other way, with the result that he would meet Josh head-on somewhere in the middle. Machine gun against pistol, a hundred rounds to one, meaning Josh would die, and then so would Rufus. He moved forward another foot. Then he heard the machine gun open fire again and listened as the bullets tore into the pickup truck. He raced forward and rounded the corner. While Tremaine was busy firing at Rufus, Josh could outflank him and silence the sonofabitch once and for all. This plan vanished when he went around the corner, for Tremaine was standing there, his pistol pointed at Joshs head. An astonished Josh stopped so abruptly that his feet slid in the gravel and his legs went out from under him. This was fortunate, since the bullet slammed into his shoulder instead of his brain. His momentum carried him forward and his legs clipped Tremaines, and they went down hard, both their pistols sailing out of reach. Tremaine came up first; Josh, holding his bloody shoulder, was slower to rise. Tremaine pulled a knife from his belt. In the background the machine gun stopped firing. Josh yelled out as Tremaine lunged into him and both men hit the wall of the shack, shaking the primitive structure right down to its wooden joints. Josh managed to block Tremaines arm with his forearm. His whole side hurt like hell. Whatever piece of ordnance was in him had gone beyond his shoulder to explore other parts of his body. He managed to kick at Tremaine and caught him once in the belly, but the man was up and was on Josh again in an instant. Josh felt the knife cut through his shirt and into his side, and he started to lose consciousness. The pain from this fresh wound was barely felt, so overwhelmed was it by the first. He could hardly make out the image of Tremaine pulling the knife free from his body and rearing his arm back for a final thrust. Probably at his throat, Josh dimly thought, as his brain started to shut down. The throat was quick and always fatal. Thats what he would do, he thought, as the darkness started to close around him. The knife never made its downward plunge. It stopped at its highest point and moved no closer to Josh Harms. Tremaine kicked and jerked as he was torn off the wounded man. Rufus was directly behind him. One hand gripped the wrist holding the knife. He smashed it against the shack until Tremaines finger lock was finally broken and the knife dropped to the ground. Tremaine was solid muscle and superbly trained in hand-to-hand combat. But he was half Rufuss size. One on one, there were few men who could match Rufus. The big man was like a grizzly bear once he got hold of somebody. And he had a good hold of Vic Tremaine, the man who had made his life a nightmare hed thought would never end. As Tremaine tried to wedge a forearm against Rufuss windpipe, Rufus changed his tactic and lifted Tremaine completely off the ground, slamming his face again and again into the wall until Tremaine was groggy from the impacts, his face bloody. Finally Rufus put Tremaines head right through the window, the jagged glass cutting deeply into the mans face. Then Josh screamed in pain from his wounds, and Rufus looked at him, his grip loosening a bit. Tremaine, sensing this, kicked out Rufuss knee and whip-sawed an elbow into his kidney, dropping the big man to the ground. Tremaine rolled free, gripped his knife and lunged toward the defenseless man. The bullet hit him smack in the back of the head and dropped him on the spot. Rufus heaved upward and looked at his brother, wisps of smoke still seeping from the barrel of the 9mm Josh held. Then he put the pistol down and lay back in the dirt. Rufus raced over and knelt next to him. Josh! Josh?

Josh opened his eyes and looked over at Tremaines twisted body, both relieved and sickened by what he had done. Even the worst enemy in the world didnt look so terrifying dead. He looked back at Rufus. You done good, little brother. Shit, bettern me.

Id be dead if you hadnt killed him.

Aint gonna let him get you. Aint gonna let him . . .

Rufus ripped open his brothers shirt and looked at the wounds. The knife had only cut a slice in his side. Probably hadnt hit anything vital, Rufus concluded, but it was bleeding like a bitch. The bullet, though, was something else. He saw the blood dripping from his brothers mouth, the rising glaze to his eyes. Rufus could stop the bleeding on the outside, but he could do nothing about what was going on inside. And thats what could kill him. Rufus took off his shirt and put it over his brother, who was now shivering despite the heat.

Hold on, Josh. Rufus ran over to the Jeep and quickly looked through it. He found the first-aid kit and hustled back over to his brother. Joshs eyes were now closed and he didnt seem to be breathing. Rufus shook him gently. Josh, Josh, dont do it, keep your damn eyes open. Dont be going to sleep on me. Josh!

Finally Josh opened his eyes and appeared lucid. You got to get outta here, Rufus. All the shooting, people might be coming. You got to go. Now.

Wegot to get out of here thats right.

Rufus lifted Josh up a little and checked his back. The bullet hadnt gone through; it was still in him somewhere. Rufus started cleaning both wounds. At one point Josh gripped his arm. Rufus, get the hell out of here, he said again.