Tiger (22 page)

TIGER HEARD GUNSHOTS RIPPING THROUGH THE
trees behind him, but he couldn't let himself get distracted. Divine's route back to his helicopter was short, and he might be flying away at any moment. Tiger pushed himself, his muscles still burning after charging up the steep hillside. He finally emerged from the trees, open field stretching before him.

The helicopter sat at the far end of the field, a hundred yards away or more. The running lights were on and he could just barely hear the distinct clicking sound, one he associated with the start-up sequence of the turbine engine. Once the engines engaged, Divine could take off at any time. In a full sprint now, Tiger approached the chopper from behind, sticking to its blind spot and moving out to the side only when he came within reach of its back rotor. He could see the glow of the control-panel lights through the heavily tinted windows and knew he would have to make his move before the turbines were on and the rotor began to engage.

Tiger set aside his assault rifle and pulled out the Browning—the gun he was meant to use on Sweet. In one fluid motion, he flipped open the right side door of the chopper and jumped in, his gun raised.

But there was no one to aim at. Tiger was alone in the cabin of the chopper. He looked outside and saw two figures approaching it slowly, guns raised in his direction. As they moved in close, the running lights lit up their faces: Divine, of course, and the pilot, each covering one side of the helicopter.

“Ease on out here, kid,” Divine said.

Tiger felt like an idiot, lured in so easily, like a reckless amateur. He had let his concern for his sister cloud his judgment, and now he had doomed them both. Once he stepped outside, he'd be dead, and Wally would soon follow, no doubt. Nothing had gone according to plan, and it was time for Divine to clean house.

“Let's go,” Divine barked. “No way around it—there's reckoning to be done.”

Moving carefully in order to give every sign that he was following Divine's directions, Tiger tossed his weapon out the door of the chopper, then slid the backpack off his shoulder. He eased out of the cabin and spread his arms wide in surrender, crouching down and ducking his head to clear the low doorway. Then he sprang outward and plowed shoulder-first into Divine.

Divine managed to squeeze off a shot, but it flew high. His gun fell to the ground as the two men struggled. Tiger was shocked at the strength of the older man as they wrestled for control, but he used Divine's weight against him and flipped the man facedown in the dirt, landing on top of him with both knees and delivering a blow to the back of Divine's head.

There wasn't time to congratulate himself on gaining the advantage. Tiger heard steps behind him as the pilot rushed over from the opposite side of the helicopter. He dove away from Divine and reached to recover his handgun, grabbing the weapon and spinning around just as the pilot was raising his own. Tiger squeezed off a shot and the pilot fell, grasping at the gushing wound to his abdomen. Tiger kicked away the man's gun and turned back to Divine, surprised to find that the old man had somehow staggered back onto his feet and had his gun in hand again.

Tiger and Divine stood facing each other, both their guns raised in a standoff. Tiger was winded from the fight and Divine looked unsteady, but the grim determination on their faces told the story: neither man would give ground, ever.

“Put it down,” came Rachel's voice from behind Tiger.

“No, you put it down,” ordered Wally.

The four of them—Wally and Tiger, Divine and Rachel—faced each other, guns drawn. Tiger kept his eyes on Divine and Rachel, but was unable to hide the surprise and relief he felt at Wally's appearance before him.

“You're here,” he said.

She shrugged. “Obviously.”

Tiger thought for a moment, running the night's scenario through in his mind.

“The generator?” he asked.

Wally nodded.

“Good idea,” Tiger said.

Wally almost laughed, wondering what exactly she would have to do to get more from Tiger. Some small measure of acknowledgment that they were brother and sister, that they were important to each other. This wasn't the time for that anyway, she supposed. For now it was enough that they were together and alive.

“It's over,” Divine barked, irate and frustrated that there was nothing he could do to change the situation.

Tiger nodded curtly. “Just go.”

“What the hell is this?” came another voice.

It was Kyle. He staggered toward the foursome, his gun held high but his body beaten and bloody. He had obviously survived the hand-to-hand combat with Alabama, just barely. As he moved in among the group, he kept his gun trained squarely on Wally. Tiger now held
his
gun on Kyle but never stopped clocking the movements of Rachel or Divine. Not that it mattered where all the guns were pointed, anymore—if any shooting started now, no one would walk away.

“I'm going to kill her,” Kyle said.

Wally looked Kyle up and down, not bothering to disguise her contempt. She wondered if she had made a mistake in refusing to take him out as he fought with Alabama.

“No, you're not,” she informed him. “You're lucky to be standing.”

“Don't you—”

“Stop with your bullshit!” Rachel barked at her brother. “We give you one job off the Ranch—one goddamn job—and you fuck it up. Be careful, or you might lose your seat in the chopper.”

Kyle was outraged. He looked to his father for support, but the old man said nothing.

“Go,” Tiger said.

Divine gestured toward the helicopter, urging his children to climb aboard. Before she got into the cabin, Rachel looked back at Tiger.

“We have unfinished business,” she threatened.

Tiger shook his head.

Kyle was beside himself at how the confrontation was being diffused. His gun was still raised and pointed at Wally, as if he would rather die there than be forced to walk away. As a final gesture of defiance, he stepped to Wally and traced the muzzle of his gun down her cheek, smirking through his crusted, bloody mouth.

“I got you, though,” he said. “Didn't I? Got the best of you, girl. Like a fish on a hook.”

Wally pressed her own weapon into Kyle's gut, tempted to take him out no matter what the cost, but she managed to control herself.

“You're just not worth it,” she said. “But you already know that, don't you?”

“Now!” Divine commanded from the doorway of the chopper, and Kyle turned away, climbing aboard with his father and sister. Wally and Tiger stepped back from the rotors and watched as Divine piloted the chopper himself, pulling up off the ground and leaving a swirling cloud of dust in their wake.

 

 

 

THE BLINKING LIGHTS OF THE HELICOPTER SOON
disappeared among the stars.

Wally mostly felt numb. Somewhere inside she was happy and relieved that she had saved Tiger, but there were other feelings at war: shame at how she had been taken in by Kyle, for one. He hadn't been wrong when he described her as a “fish on a hook,” and the humiliation of it burned.

“What am I supposed to feel?” she asked nobody in particular.

Tiger took a moment, struggling with the question. Introspection wasn't his thing.

“That's the problem with Americans,” he said. “It's never enough just to be alive.”

“Oh, really?”

Tiger nodded.

“So they get to walk away, and you're okay with that?” she asked, facing him now and starting to feel angry at the Zen vibe he was putting out.

“Yes.”

“How can we let it end like this? Not to mention, they'll be coming for us, again. They'll never feel safe with us out in the world—with everything we know about what they tried to do. That's okay with you?”

“Everything will be fine,” Tiger said calmly, infuriating her further.

“How, exactly?”

Tiger thought for a moment. “What would you say to them?”

“To who? Divine? Kyle?”

“Yes. Right now.”

Wally thought about it.

“I'd tell them,
don't bother looking for us
,” she said. “
We'll find you
.”

“Okay,” Tiger nodded, pulling a cell phone out of his pocket and passing it to her.

Wally stared at the phone, confused. “What?”

“Type it,” Tiger said.

It seemed like a pathetic exercise—a waste of her righteous rage—but Tiger seemed completely serious. Wally took the phone and typed the message into the texting app.

Don't bother looking for us. We'll find you.

Tiger looked over her shoulder at the message, and nodded in approval.

“Good,” he said. “Simple is good.”

She was about to press the “send” button, but Tiger grabbed the phone back.

“No, that's for me,” he said. “You have enough to haunt you.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Tiger looked to the sky, in the direction Divine's helicopter had just taken, and pressed the “send” button purposefully.

Two seconds later, a white-hot ball of fire ignited the sky to the east. It was a massive explosion that would be seen for fifty miles in every direction. Five seconds after that, the sound of it reached them, a massive concussion that moved in an invisible wave through Wally's entire body and made her shiver from the base of her neck.

Suddenly she felt lighter than she had in weeks, even months.

The distant roar of the explosion dissipated and was replaced with the sound of sirens—hundreds of them, it seemed—converging on the area and growing louder by the second.

“They're playing our song,” Wally said.

The last time the two of them had parted—on Shelter Island—it had been to the accompaniment of a similar chorus. Federal agents and local law enforcement had been moving in, and there was nothing for Tiger to do but run.

“There are businesses in that direction,” he said, pointing to some streetlights a mile or so to the east. “A store is open twenty-four hours. Can you get home from there?”

“Yeah,” Wally told him, feeling a fresh wave of dread in the pit of her stomach. They were parting again, and she wasn't ready for it.

“You go first, this time,” he said.

Their eyes met for a moment, but then Tiger looked away. Whatever connection Wally needed to feel between them was not there yet. Maybe it never would be. She turned and headed alone across the open field, making it only twenty paces before she turned and faced her brother again.

“I love you, Tiger,” she said.

He looked straight at her and didn't avert his eyes this time. But he didn't answer her either. Wally would have to be patient with him. And she would be.

“Don't worry,” she said. “Saying it gets easier.”

Wally turned again and walked away without looking back even once.

Wally sat on the curb outside the convenience store for nearly an hour. When Atley Greer finally pulled up in his unmarked police unit, she climbed in and Greer drove away, headed for the turnpike. They drove in silence for a while, Greer sneaking sideways looks at her as they reached the pike and headed east toward Manhattan.

“Busy night out here,” Greer finally said. “An old warehouse in Bayonne burned down. Huge explosions from a cache of weapons inside. And then an old arms factory near here went up too. Some kind of rave out in the sticks. They're still counting bodies.”

“It's New Jersey,” Wally shrugged. “These people are savages.”