Betrayed (Rosato & DiNunzio, #2)(85)
Judy put her phone away. Her eyes watered. Her throat and nostrils filled with smoke and soot. She gasped for breath. She covered her mouth and tried to get to the car. Flames licked at her, keeping her at bay.
Her cheeks and chest burned. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She coughed and coughed. Heat seared her face. Fiery debris flew like a nightmare blizzard, blocking out the sky.
“Domingo, Domingo!” Judy tried to get to the car one more time. The sleeve of her blazer caught fire. She beat the flames with her hand, smothering them. Agonizing pain exploded in her palm.
She couldn’t let Domingo die. Her thoughts raced ahead. The sandwich shop must have a fire extinguisher. She whirled around and ran back to the shop through the smoke. A yellow Mini Cooper had stopped at the curb. Two young girls jumped out of the front doors, surveying the scene with horror.
“Help the old man!” Judy yelled to them. The young girls yelled back to her, something she couldn’t hear. One young girl raced to the old man, who was struggling to his feet. The other young girl started talking into a cell phone, probably calling 911.
Judy bolted to the sandwich shop, ran inside, and looked wildly around. A small red extinguisher was affixed to the lower wall by the door. She yanked it off and raced outside with it, frantic. She sprinted past the old man and the young girls. Cars were slowing on the street and pulling to the curb to help.
Judy ran to her VW. An inferno razed the interior. Flames raged skyward. Smoke billowed everywhere. The heat beat her backwards. Her eyes burned in the smoke. She couldn’t accept that Domingo was dead. She tucked the fire extinguisher under her arm and pulled out the steel ring on top. Behind her, a trio of Good Samaritans helped the old man to his feet. She recognized one of them, a priest.
“Father Vega?” Judy’s heart leapt with hope. “Thank God! Help!”
“Judy?” Father Vega looked over and ran toward her through the smoke, his black jacket flying open. He reached her, his eyes wide with alarm. “What are you doing here? Is that your car?”
“Yes, my friend’s inside!” Judy tugged the rubber hose on the extinguisher from its holder and aimed the nozzle at the fire.
“Hurry! Squeeze the black handle! Spray the car! Sweep it from side to side!”
“On it!” Judy squeezed the handle and aimed the nozzle. Acrid pale yellow powder sprayed at the huge flames, though it looked futile. She didn’t know what else to do. She glanced at Father Vega and caught him sliding a hunting knife from his jacket pocket, its jagged blade glinting in the sun. The priest was turning toward her, his eyes blazing darkly as he raised the knife in his hand.
“Father Vega?” Judy gasped, thunderstruck. She couldn’t begin to comprehend what she was seeing with her own eyes. A man of God, about to stab her with a lethal knife.
And behind him at the curb, jumping out of a battered white pick-up, were Carlos and another man, presumably Roberto.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Judy couldn’t believe what was happening. She had thought Father Vega was so kind, but she’d been horribly wrong. It shocked her, but it was unfolding before her. The priest must’ve been in cahoots with Carlos and Roberto. Father Vega charged at Judy with the hunting knife.
“No!” Judy aimed the nozzle of the fire extinguisher at him and sprayed his face with powder.
“Ahh!” Father Vega cried in pain. His hands flew to his face. He dropped the knife and staggered backwards.
Judy swung the extinguisher toward his head and slammed it into his temple. The priest fell to the ground, and the old man, girls, and Good Samaritans wheeled around, a confused group. Behind them at the curb, Carlos raised an assault rifle and Roberto a handgun, aimed at Judy and the group. They must’ve followed Domingo to the sandwich shop and planted the bomb on her car. They’d tried to kill her and Domingo. Now they were going to finish the job.
“Watch out, they have guns!” Judy screamed. Roberto fired his weapon. Suddenly red blood spurted from the cheek of one of the girls, who dropped to her knees and fell over.
Pop pop pop! Carlos fired the assault rifle, but Judy was already running for her life. She raced past the burning car and through the parking lot. The smoke and fire screened her from Carlos’s view. There were woods behind the sandwich shop, and she ran into it as fast as she could, struggling not to trip on sticks and underbrush.
Tree trunks and limbs exploded on her right, spraying jagged wood chips where bullets hit. She kept her legs churning, full-tilt. She zigzagged between the trees. Their limbs had grown together everywhere. Vines wound around the branches, blocking her path. She pinwheeled her arms to get through them.
Tree limbs and thorns scratched her face and clothes. She veered around one tree, then the next, not knowing which direction she was heading. Her only thought was to run away. Her chest heaved. Her heart pumped with exertion and terror. She coughed and spit. She caught a flash through the trees of the sloped gray roof of the treatment plant, with steel pipes sticking out of the top.
She crashed through the woods, trying to think. Carlos and Roberto couldn’t drive a truck through here. They had to chase her on foot. She had a head start. She was younger and in better shape. She had a fighting chance if she could make it to the treatment plant. There would be help there. She thought of shouting for help but that would give away her position. Police would arrive soon. She had to stay alive until then.