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Faint.

Almost impossible to hear beneath the engines and shouting.

Pounding.

From inside the van.

Then screaming.

Girls.

I change direction.

Taylor grabs my shoulder.

“Sean.”

“They’re inside.”

“I know.”

“We get them out.”

“We will.”

Another shot cracks across the airstrip.

A bullet hits the ground several feet in front of us.

Taylor and I drop.

The gunman behind the van has us pinned.

“Can you see him?”

“Not enough.”

I look toward the sheriff’s vehicles.

One deputy is moving around the opposite side.

Good.

The man doesn't see him.

He leans out.

“Sheriff’s department! Drop it!”

The gunman spins.

Taylor rises.

“Drop the weapon!”

For half a second, the man looks between them.

Then he throws the rifle down.