The short man eyed Enzo. His tongue kept darting out of his mouth to lick a sore at the corner of his lips. “Maybe his car broke down somewhere along the road, and he’s hoofing it to find a safe place. Shame he ran into us.”
“Not a shame for us.” Blond Guy smirked at Enzo. “Just a shame for you because you’ll be turning over your stuff to us.”
Enzo brought out his knife. “I might not be able to take all three of you, but I can cut up a couple of you. I don’t think any of you want to risk being in that majority, so step aside and let me through.”
The blond guy nodded, more amused than afraid. “You’re threatening us? That’s quite a gamble.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pistol. “I’ll see your knife and raise you a gun.” Blond Guy took a step closer. “Now, boy, you’re going to drop your cutlery, take off that backpack, and drop the pillow as well.” He smiled, showing crooked, stained teeth. “I’ve taken a fancy to your shoes and jacket, so you can leave those too.” He glanced at the other men. “Anything else you want? I think those jeans would be too big for Bast, but he could try them and find out.”
Enzo hardly heard the last part. He was weighing his options.
The blond motioned with the gun at Enzo. “You deaf? I told you to drop the knife, boy. We might want those jeans and would hate to get blood stains on them.”
The man was out of reach, but if Enzo lunged two steps forward, he could grab the guy’s wrist and disarm him. He might get shot in the process. It would be better to extend his reach.
Enzo swung the pillow full of cans. They clanged satisfyingly as they hit the blond man’s arm and smacked the gun away. The guy reeled backward.
Enzo didn’t have enough time to grab the gun. The big man sprang at him. Enzo slashed the knife at him. The man blocked the strike, and the knife sliced through his shirt and cut a bloody trail through his skin. He yelled and stumbled away, gripping the wound.
Where was the gun? Enzo spotted it on the ground. Blondie had nearly reached it. If the guy was scrambling to reach itinstead of joining the fight, the gun was loaded. Enzo needed to tackle him and grab it.
Something hit Enzo’s back, knocking him off balance. A ripping sound came from the backpack, then the clunk of items falling out.
He spun and saw the short man holding a dagger. He swung at Enzo. Enzo dodged and used the man’s momentum to push him to the ground. Some of his water bottles dropped to the ground. He nearly tripped on them.
A gunshot blasted. The blond man stood ten feet away, pointing the gun at Enzo. If he’d been a better shot, Enzo would be dead.
He didn’t stick around to see if the gun had more bullets. He swung the pillowcase at the blond again, this time throwing it at his chest. The man went down, but he wouldn’t stay there long. Enzo took off running in the direction of the cabin.
More cans and provisions toppled from his backpack. He wouldn’t have supposed this to be a good thing, but it lightened his load.
He heard the men’s panting voices behind him. They were coming after him.
“Leave that ‘til later!” the blond yelled. Apparently one of the group had stopped to pick up the provisions.
“We might not find it later,” the other said. “Just shoot him.”
So the gun was still loaded.
“Don’t wanna waste no more bullets. And we don’t need to. The three of us can take him. He can’t run forever. There’s nowhere for him to go.”
But there was, if he could reach the bunker in time. Charity would let him back in.
Probably.
Hopefully.
He ran faster than the three, and every minute, he pulled further ahead. He veered onto the road and sprinted up it. Keeping on it made him more visible, but the ground was smoother here, easier to run.
After a few minutes, he began looking for the identifying markers that would tell him he’d reached the right area. His sides ached from the constant speed, and his back stung. Must’ve gotten nicked when the man sliced through his backpack. At least, he hoped it was only a nick. He hoped he wasn’t leaving a trail of blood for them to follow.
The men straggled farther behind, almost out of sight. When he left the road and cut off through the woods to the cave, it would take them a few minutes to find him. By that time, Charity would let him in.
She had to let him in.
Minutes passed. He saw the markers—the tire lying on the ground, the plastic bag stuck in the bush. And there was the cave. Enzo checked over his shoulder, but he didn’t see his pursuers.
He staggered into the cave, breathing hard. The door had been in the left part of the wall.
He searched for a doorknob, a panel, something to show where the entrance was. Nothing. There had to be a seam in the wall, didn’t there? Somehow that was hidden as well.