Books leaps up and grabs an M16.
Carlos races his bike toward the Americans. He is only seconds away from them. Pieter is a hundred yards behind him.
Books yanks down the Humvee's rear door handle then kicks the door open.
Jedi tracks the bikes in his side mirror and shouts out. "They're right on us!"
"I see them," Books yells.
Pieter fires a round at the South American. The bullet misses him by a few feet and blasts toward Books. It nicks his thigh, continues, and THUNKS into the orange case on the bench seat next to Cutter.
"Motherf—!" Cutter cries out.
Carlos' bike cuts in front of the Humvee and heads for Matt. "That's one!" Jedi yells.
Books brings up the M16—aims at Pieter.
Jim tracks Carlos' bike with the M2. "I got no shot—Matt's too close!"
Pieter fires and misses again. The bullet ricochets off the Humvee's front wheel rim and smashes into the tire's air valve.
Books yells at Jim. "They're too fast!"
The pink bike screams past the Humvee. Pieter spots the flag on its side, and thinks, Americans!
"That's two!" Jedi shouts.
Books slings an M16 over his shoulder, reaches out and grips a rung on the truck's rear ladder. He swings his body outwards and climbs the ladder, then scrambles over to Jim.
Sophia runs forward, squeezes through the hatchway and joins Jedi upfront.
"What's he doing?" Sophia sees Matt make his move.
"He's going after them—we go with him, right?" Jedi asks.
Before Sophia can answer, Jedi stamps down hard on the Humvee's accelerator. The big truck jumps forward and picks up pace.
"I'm going." Jedi answers his own question.
Books jumps into the gun turret.
"Darn it, I couldn't make the shot," Jim says. He sees Books' leg wound, "You okay?"
Books ignores him. He yells, "Jedi!"
"Yeah?"
"Fast as you can."
"Okay!" Jedi looks out ahead. The bikes are now three small dots on the horizon, then they disappear into the heat haze. "Man, they're smoking—I wonder where the party is?"
"Just who the fuck were those guys?" Cutter calls out from the rear.
"Too quick to tell," Sophia says.
"That pink guy was pissed," Jedi adds.
"You're not kidding. He shot our fucking case." Cutter opens up the orange case and pulls out a wad of money. "Correction, he shot our money." Cutter holds up a thick wad of bills with a bullet hole running right through the center. "Motherfucking vandals—no respect."
Sophia says. "I can't believe that clot head of a comedian is chasing them."
"He'll be okay—he was a bike pro," Jedi says.
"He's a pro idiot, taking off like that."
"You see the guy on the yellow bike?" Jedi asks.
"Yeah," Sophia says.
"See what he was carrying?"
Sophia shakes her head.
"On the back of his bike he had a case. The pink bike was chasing him for the case. And where there's a case, there's a code."
"And another hundred million dollars," Cutter yells.
***
The trio of bikes races over the salt pan.
Carlos leads, just ahead of Pieter. Matt follows close behind them.
The South American glances behind him. He spots Matt, then screams to himself, "No manches! Another one!"
Pieter turns and rattles off two shots at Matt.
"Screw this!" Matt says. He throttles the bike back, thinks, chasing is good—catching up isn't. He looks behind him. He is on his own, no American Humvee in sight. "Fuck it!"
Carlos sees something ahead and to his left. Through the heat haze, the tip of a mountaintop appears. He turns the bike, powers toward it and thinks, at last, some hope. He squeezes every last drop of power from his KTM. Snow-capped mountain peaks begin to rise up on the far horizon. He heads the bike towards the new landmarks, then checks over his shoulder. The man on the pink bike is now only fifty yards behind him.
Pieter aims his pistol at Carlos, fires again and misses.
The South American lurches his bike to one side. He tenses his body in anticipation of a bullet slamming into his back. There is something ahead. He can't make it out. He stands on the KTM's footpegs for a split second to get a better view, then screams, "No! No! Nooooooooooooo!"
Ahead of him looms a wall of metal towers. The pylons are twenty feet high and staggered three hundred yards apart. Laser beams project from each of the towers and form a translucent pink barrier as far as the eye can see. There are no gaps in the laser wall.
Carlos is low on options. He thinks, escape or die time. He removes his left hand from the KTM's handlebar and makes the last rites sign over his body. He darts through the laser fence and his collar explodes, decapitating his head from his body. The bike and headless South American continue on until the bike falls onto its side, then flips and spins through the air. Carlos' torso, head and bike land and skid over the ground and come to a halt, fifty yards on the other side of the laser fence.
Pieter yanks hard on his brakes. His bike bucks and snakes, then skids. It heads straight for the laser wall. The KTM's front wheel just touches the laser, then inches through and bisects the beam. The South African plants both feet down on the ground. He pants hard. His body shakes. He sweats. He looks through the laser fence at the bloody mess on the other side, and thinks, Shit! Too close, too close. He gently pulls the bike backward, away from the laser.
Matt pulls up the KTM, a hundred yards from the fence.
Pieter aims his pistol at Matt and pulls the trigger—CLICK. The gun's chamber is empty.
"Another time, American." Pieter throws down the pistol and takes off. He spots the American Humvee in the distance coming in fast.
Matt waves a goodbye to Pieter. "Be seeing you around, fucker."
Pieter rides parallel to the laser fence, then turns and blasts diagonally away from the Americans.
It is his turn to escape.
