Silver Linings, стр. 20
The sound came a second time, louder. She thought she could hear heavy breathing.
Not Hugh, then. He would not be making so much noise.
She was slowly turning her head, her fingers clenching the gun, when another shot roared out over the lovely cove. She went totally still once more.
The crackling noises stopped.
Silence.
More eons of silence.
And then the crackling sounds came again. Closer this time.
With a sinking heart Mattie realized that the noises were headed straight for her hiding place. She sat up very carefully and braced her back against the trunk of a vine-covered tree. The vines shifted silently behind her like a nest of writhing snakes. Mattie stifled the impulse to leap away from the tree.
She gripped the Beretta in both hands and pointed it in the general direction of the soft crackling sounds.
From the far side of the cove came a rush of crashing, breaking, and splintering. A man's startled screech started to climb into the dawn sky but was abruptly choked off.
Mattie did not move. She was fairly sure the scream had not been Hugh's, but that was all she could tell. She kept the gun in her hand pointed into the mass of leaves and vines in front of her.
The crackling sounds escalated abruptly, as if someone who had previously been creeping through the undergrowth was now racing forward toward the sandy beach.
And then the reality of what was happening hit Mattie full force. Someone else was headed for the escape boat.
The thought of another trip back through the caves and another day spent in the cavern while Hugh hunted up a second boat was all the impetus Mattie needed. Her fingers tightened on the Beretta.
A large man burst through the wall of green leaves less than two feet away. He did not look down as he dashed toward the beach.
“You can't have it.” Mattie pointed the gun straight up at him. “It's ours.”
There was enough dawn light to see the startled expression on the man's unpleasant face. He slammed to an abrupt halt and looked down at where Mattie was sitting with the gun clutched in her hands.
“What the fuck?” The man blinked, first in astonishment and then in growing outrage. “Give me that gun, you little bitch.” The voice was a soft hiss.
He stretched out a beefy hand, intending to take the weapon from her as if she were a child.
Mattie fumbled for a second and then found the safety. She slid it off without a word. The soft snick was very loud in the small space between herself and the man.
“Fucking bitch.” The huge hand retreated instantly.
“Don't move.” Mattie sat very still, holding the gun trained on the man's midsection. “Not one inch.”
“That boat ain't yours.”
“It is as of now,” she told him. It was amazing how quickly the principles of a lifetime could collapse under the pressure of the need to survive, Mattie reflected. Stress, no doubt. She had never stolen anything in her entire life, and now she was planning to participate in grand theft.
“Look, lady, we can do a deal,” the man said urgently.
He was interrupted by sounds out on the beach. He turned quickly to look at the boat.
Mattie risked a quick glance and saw Hugh appear from the jungle on the far side of the clearing. He was holding his gun trained on a short, wiry little man.
“Mattie?” Hugh spoke quietly as he neared her hiding place. “It's okay. You can come out now. Hurry, babe. We've got to get moving.”
“Uh, Hugh, we have a problem here.”
“What the hell?” And then Hugh was close enough to see the still-life scene of woman-seated-on-jungle-floor with-gun-pointed-at-very-large-man.
But it was the short, wiry man who burst into a stream of abuse which he promptly hurled at the huge man Mattie was holding at gunpoint.
“Goddamn your sorry ass, Gibbs. I knew you were gonna try for my boat. I damn well knew it.” The small man spat viciously into the sand. “You always was a slimy son of a bitch.”
“That boat is just as much mine as yours, Rosey,” the big man retorted sullenly. “I knew you'd be plannin' to sneak off in it this mornin'. Some pal you turned out to be. All that garbage about how we was gonna get out of here together today. It was all bull. Well, you ain't goin' nowhere without me, you hear me?”
“Gentlemen, please,” Hugh said, “restrain yourselves. This is neither the time nor the place for an argument.”
“Oh, yeah? Says who?” The small man named Rosey glared up at him. “You ain't any better than Gibbs, here. Worse. You're plannin' to steal my boat, too, ain't ya?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” Hugh looked at Mattie, who was still sitting on the ground. “Come on, babe. I'll keep an eye on Mutt and Jeff here. Take the bags down to the boat and get in. I'll be right with you.”
“Now, see here, mister, you can't just take off and leave us here.” Rosey's voice started to rise into a wail.
“That boat's ours. We need it to get off this island until things cool down. No tellin' what's happenin' here on Purgatory. It's a goddamned revolution or somethin'. We'll get our throats slit if we hang around.”
“Keep your voice down or I'll slit your throats myself and save the revolutionaries the work.”
The new and strangely terrifying lack of emotion in Hugh's voice rather than the threat itself had an electrifying effect not only on Mattie but on Gibbs and Rosey. The two men stared open-mouthed at Hugh. It was clear they believed every word.
Hugh flicked an impatient glance at Mattie, who was getting unsteadily to her feet. “I said move, babe.”
Very conscious of the heavy weight of the gun in her hand, Mattie edged around the massive Gibbs and started toward the beach. As she passed Hugh she glanced uneasily up at his set face.