Dead Hunt

Kingsley was doing the same. They were tight but Diane thought if she tried she could bring her arms down and around her butt and legs to get her hands in front of her. As quietly as she could, she wiggled and maneuvered until her hands were in front where she could reach the rope with her teeth.
Kingsley was trying to do the same but with less success. He wasn’t quite as flexible or as slim as Diane. She was almost loose when the van stopped abruptly. The kid looked around, then grabbed something beside his seat and rushed back. Kingsley tripped him with his feet and the kid went flying on top of him.
‘‘You bastard,’’ the kid screamed. He had a temper.
Diane reached around to grab his neck, trying to pull him off. Suddenly there was a loud pop, and a cry came from Kingsley.
Diane pulled at the kid. He whipped around and punched her hard on the side of her head.
‘‘See what you made me do?’’
Diane tried to shake the stars out of her head. She looked over at Kingsley and called to him. She could see blood on his shirt inside his coat. He was shot somewhere in the upper left chest, near the shoulder. She glanced at the gun in the kid’s hand. It wasn’t Kingsley’s gun, which the kid surely had taken from him. It was a small caliber; that was good. With Kingsley’s gun the wound would have been so much worse.
‘‘I need to see about him,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Well, see about him. You did this. I didn’t.’’ He went back up to the front. ‘‘I’m watching you. I can see you in the mirror. If you try anything funny again, I’ll pop you,’’ he said. He made the motion of shooting her with the gun in his hand before he turned around and put the van in gear and stepped on the gas.
Suddenly the van rocked back and forth. Diane could see they were driving onto the back of a ferry. They were going to cross the water. Great. Kingsley was shot and now they were really cut off.
‘‘I have to drive the ferry, but I can see you. If you try to move out of the van, I’ll pop you good. Bambam-bam.’’
He hadn’t retied Diane’s hands behind her. She was grateful for that. He felt cocky and secure because he had shot someone, she thought. Maybe that was good.
The van rocked again but more gently as the ferry started out over the water. Her head throbbed and she felt sick.
Just focus.
Her hands were still tied, but with them in front she could at least look after Kingsley. She squirmed her way to him, bound as she was, and opened his coat and shirt to look at the wound. It was bleeding freely.
‘‘Can you turn and let me see the exit wound?’’ she said.
Even with both of them trying, she couldn’t get his coat moved so that she could see the wound.
‘‘I think it’s a through shot,’’ she said to him. ‘‘From the placement, I don’t think it hit your shoulder girdle,’’ she said. ‘‘Wiggle your fingers.’’
She watched as he obeyed her.
‘‘Can you move your shoulder?’’ she asked.
He shrugged and moved it back and forth. ‘‘Hurts like hell,’’ he said.
‘‘Doesn’t seem to have broken any bones,’’ she said. ‘‘That’s good.’’
She felt a wave of nausea sweep over her.
‘‘You sick?’’ he whispered.
‘‘I’m fine. How about you?’’ she asked.
‘‘I’m a good sailor,’’ he said. ‘‘No nausea. Just a bullet hole in me. I’m sorry . . . we should have stayed in Beaufort.’’
‘‘I’m not sure what happened. Was he following us all this time?’’ she asked.
‘‘I don’t know,’’ he said.
She needed to bandage his wound. What with? She would use her jacket, but she couldn’t get it off. She looked around the van. There were plastic grocery sacks. She emptied them onto the floor. Nothing useful, no paper towels, just cakes, nuts and fruit. Just the snacks. Okay. She stuffed the nuts and a couple of bananas in her pocket.
It was then she realized she felt her cell phone in the front inside pocket of her jacket. Why didn’t he take it? He must have felt for weapons and would know it was there. He took Kingsley’s Beretta. Why didn’t he take the phone? Because he didn’t need to. No towers, no signal—no service.
She had an idea about the phone. Not one that would get them out of the immediate situation, but one that might help in the long run.
Okay, think. She ignored the throbbing in her head and the queasiness of her stomach and tried to look at all the resources they had.
‘‘How do you feel?’’ she