Beasley heard the gunshot and spun to his six. He raced back from where he'd come, weaving in and around the thick, moving in a zig-zagged pattern allowing him to gain ground as fas as he could. He heard a commotion and saw three individuals in the distance positioned in a straight line. The first two were standing, the third, was on the ground.
He clutched the handgun as he finally broke onto the scene. Only Stuart had spotted him. Beasley also recognized Michael who was aiming a rifle at a man who had a revolver pointed straight at Stuart. Stuart's hands were behind his head.
"It only has to be one of us. Don't shoot me!" The man in the middle said sternly, "I have a family. You don't need to shoot me."
"Put down your weapons!" Beasley screamed. "Suspects in the woods, all are armed," he barked into his radio. "Put down your weapons." He slowly approached Michael. "It's ok, just put down your weapon, it's ok."
Michael turned to face the officer, slowly he lifted his hand from the barrel and showed his palm to the officer as an act of surrender. He knelt to his knees to drop the rifle.
A gun fired. Michael heard a yelp behind him as a body collapsed to the ground. As he turned to observe, a second gunshot fired. He found himself spinning to the ground. At first, it felt like a simple bee sting, but then the pain began to swell over his right shoulder in a biting, stinging, throbbing pain. His fingers were instantly numb, yet at the same time felt as if they'd swollen twice their size.
"Michael, we need to go." A voice was ringing behind him. It was fuzzy and distant, "Michael!" A hand reached down and grabbed him, pulling on his arm, trying to get him to his feet. Michael let out a blood-curling scream.
"Michael? Michael, you're shot!" Stuart yelled the obvious. "Get up; we need to go!"
Michael used his left arm to stand. He caught a glimpse of the officer lying flat on the ground. He was in much worse condition than himself. Blood was coming either from his chest or neck. He looked as though he was trying to catch his breath, but couldn't receive air. Claude was rolling on the ground, his chest heaving as his voice whimpered.
"We need to go." Stuart said again, "Can you walk?"
Michael nodded, still in shock. The pain seemed to get worse with each step.
"Who are they?" Stuart asked out loud. Near the entrance of the town, there were five people. It was hard to tell if they were tourists or police. "Let's move to the right." He said, "We'll get to the highway eventually. Are you doing alright?" He asked again, Michael let out another unconvincing nod.
They did their best to move at a decent pace, but it was proving difficult. Michael had to stop regularly to catch his breath, always squirming in pain. The t-shirt felt like hot sandpaper against his wound, scraping raw flesh with every step.
"Officer down!" They heard a scream behind them. "I’m going to stay with Beasley. Cooper I saw the two go that way!"
"We need to hurry!" Stuart whispered, "We need to hurry!" He grabbed Michael's arm and pulled him. Michael didn't put up much resistance but had a hard time putting much effort as well.
Cooper began to gain ground. "Police! You're under arrest!" The officer's voice cracked, making it apparent he wasn't used to screaming at fleeing suspects. "Please stop!" He begged.
The forest had a steep ten-foot climb before leveling out a short distance to the road. Michael used his left arm to grab a sprouted root while Stuart pushed his backside. The officer was gaining fast as Michael tumbled over the last bit of shrubbery and stood to his feet. Stuart swiftly maneuvered up the incline with ease. A car whizzed past on the highway a hundred feet before them.
"What now?" Michael managed.
Without answering, Stuart grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the road. They could hear the officer's footsteps behind them. If they were fast, they could reach the street before he climbed the slope.
"As fast as you can, get to the road," Stuart said, then took off in a run, leaving Michael behind.
Michael bit his bottom lip and sucked in pain. Step by step, he managed to trudge through the thick floor. He tumbled through the dense brush, stumbling multiple times as he made his way through the uneven shrub. Stuart was up ahead, glancing back and forth from Michael to the road. He tried to wave down a car that zipped by. Two more cars sped past his outstretched thumb.
Michael reached Stuart just as the officer charged up the hill. The officer was small, he was agile, he moved through the forest with ease. Stuart estimated a short thirty seconds before he had them. They couldn't run anymore, they were out of options.
A small black SUV came around the bend a quarter-mile away. This was it, and he knew it. Instead of trying to wave it down. Stuart jumped into the street and raised his arms. The car slowed as it approached. He stayed in front of the hood as Michael stumbled into the street, making sure the car couldn't pull away. The driver didn't honk; instead, a rear door opened.
"Hurry up and get in!" a familiar voice yelled.
Stuart climbed in and turned to assist Michael.
"Did you see Gary, or did you just sound the alarm?" Christine demanded from the back seat.
"He was shot," Stuart replied, pointing to Michael.
"Did you see him? Did Michael identify him?" She yelled, demanding an answer.
"No, but he was there. He took the shots."
"Well, they can't find him!" She yelled.
"He was there!" Stuart shouted back.
Just as Stuart finished his sentence, Cooper broke onto the street and sprinted at the car. "Police!" He yelled, gun drawn, but at his side.
The SUV peeled forward, catching Cooper by surprise. He pulled the gun to his chest but quickly clipped it back in its holster. Stuart watched through the rear window as Cooper yelled into his radio.
"He's going to have the license plate," Stuart observed.
Christine didn't answer. She stared out the window shaking her head.
The car pulled around a bend, out of sight from Cooper. It slowed to a stop on the side of the road behind a small blue station wagon. Christine opened the SUV door, "Let's go."
As soon as the three were out, the SUV pulled away and continued down the one-lane highway. Michael and Stuart climbed into the back of the wagon. Christine started the car and pulled onto the freeway. Her phone buzzed and she quickly pulled it to her ear. “Perfect.” She hung up and turned to Stuart, “They spotted someone. Agents are moving in.” Christine stated.
"That's great," Stuart replied, too preoccupied with Michael. His breaths were shallow, his muscles were spazzing. Stuart took a knife and cut the sleeve covering the wound. "He needs to get to a hospital. The bullet's sticking out of his arm."
"We can't go to a hospital. He'll be arrested. There's a motel a half-hour away, we'll stop there." Then she added, "Don't pull out the bullet."
Stuart thought for a moment, "I know a place closer. A cabin."
"Oh, nice," Christine replied.
"The mother's a nurse. She'll know what to do."
"We're not going there. I was saying oh nice as in it's interesting you know a place near here." She kept her eyes on the road, "We're going to the motel."
"That doesn't make sense, I don't know how to treat this, I'm pretty sure you don't know how to treat this. We should—" Stuart's voice trailed as his eyes grew big. "What is that?" He pointed towards the direction they were driving, a dense black smoke was pouring into the sky. "How far are we from Moose Pass?" He asked frantically.
"About eighteen miles." Christine answered, "We're going to the motel.”