The Carrion Birds Read Online Free

sighed, letting his breath out in a
long whistle like he was about to take a high fall into a cold lake. “We weren’t
doing anything illegal,” Burnham said. “And we’re within our rights just to stay
here.”
    “I know what your rights are,” Ray said. He shifted
his eyes to where Gil Suarez sat in the passenger seat, judging whether the
younger man was going to be a risk, then he ran them back over to Burnham. He
watched the old man and when he moved to get out, Ray already had his hand
resting close over his hip. “I’m just checking to make sure about something,” he
said.
    Burnham was halfway out the door when Gil Suarez
made a run for it, the gun up out of Ray’s belt as he came around the cab
looking for a clear shot. Gil keeping low, angling toward the protection of the
locust thicket at the side of the road. Burnham up out of the cab now, his arms
outstretched and going for the pistol in Ray’s hand. Ray shoved the old man to
the ground and came forward along the truck looking for his shot. Gil almost at
the thicket. There wasn’t anything else to do, Ray squeezed down on the trigger
and the muzzle flash lit the truck cab up like a yellow flare, the bullet
ricocheting off the metal roof and caroming into the early-morning gray.
    At the sound of the shot, Gil ducked and kept
running. Ray was aiming too low. He didn’t know if Gil had a gun, or what he
might be carrying. Burnham now up out of the dirt and making his own escape
around the back of the pickup, keeping low in his stride as he tried for the
thicket. Ray fixed his sight on the old man and came around the side of the
truck.
    He didn’t want to shoot Burnham, but he knew he
would if Burnham didn’t stop. Ray was almost around the edge of the truck when
the big boom of the shotgun caught Burnham midstride. He saw the old man fly
sideways and disappear over the edge of the road. When he turned he saw Sanchez,
up out of the Bronco, pump the twelve-gauge once and then fire again toward the
running figure of Gil. Gil fell in the dirt ten feet out from the road. Splatter
of buckshot all through the dirt where he’d tripped.
    Lucky son of a bitch, Ray thought.
    Sanchez pumped the shotgun a second time as the kid
got up and ran forward across the sandy wash between the road and the wall of
brush, half falling as he disappeared into the thicket of green-brown
locust.
    Ray stood there with the Ruger pointed into the
bushes. The sound of the shotgun fading away down the valley as the wind
clattered through the dense roadside growth all around them.
    He turned and looked to where Sanchez stood next to
the Bronco. “Get that rifle out of the back,” Ray said. He sheathed the Ruger in
his belt, turning to mark the place the kid had gone from sight. Trying his best
to discern a path through the locust. He waited with his hand held out for the
rifle.
    Sanchez leaned back into the Bronco and came out
with the hunting rifle. He was holding the rifle and he one-handed the shotgun
to Ray over the open passenger door. “I’ll take the younger one,” Sanchez
said.
    Ray held the shotgun in his hands. He’d caught it
high on the barrel and he could feel the hot metal on his skin, the sulfur scent
of gunfire fresh in the air. “You hit him anywhere?” Ray asked.
    “Not that I saw.”
    Ray stood looking at the place Gil had gone into
the thicket. He didn’t think the kid would get far, knew he would run out of
cover in the lowlands after a few hundred meters, where the highway cut north
along the valley floor. Still, it was nothing but shadow in there and dense
brush. Light seeped up off the horizon to the east and bled into the sky.
Everything above a gray-blue haze and their own shadows stretched away long and
skinny to the west. “If he gets out of the bush, he’ll see the valley
highway.”
    “Nowhere to hide on that bottomland.” Sanchez held
the rifle in one hand and with the other he dug out three shotgun shells from
his pocket. Cupping them in