"What do you think?" Horner called over his shoulder as he got up and bounded down to the river. The bank was steep here; he took four splashing strides and had to swim. The water was icy, the current swift. Horner took a look over his shoulder, saw Jake wading more gingerly into the water as the mouth of the tunnel suddenly erupted in a bright flash of light that illuminated everything.
"Stop or we'll shoot!" a voice cried, and Horner let the current take him, his head twisted back so he could see. Jake, the fool, had not yet allowed the water to take him. He was still standing, still floundering uncertainly in the shallows, when the flashlight beam at the mouth of the tunnel caught and held him.
"Stand perfectly still, you!"
Jake shouted a curse and splashed into deeper water.
He did not get far enough to swim. There were three explosive sounds and three flashes of light brighter than the searchlight and Jake threw his hands into the air, spun completely around and staggered back toward the embankment. Shuddering in the cold, Horner kicked easily with his legs. He'd already removed his shoes. He was careful that his kicking did not break the surface. He changed to a safe underwater scissor and a breaststroke, swimming silently, unseen. He was an innocent man in a killer's body, but could never prove that. He had to get away.
"There were two of them," a voice called behind him.
And another, louder: "You out there! Stop or we'll shoot!"
It was meant to scare him: they couldn't possibly see him. Nevertheless, Horner's heart almost stopped when he heard a volley of shots. Then, in the silence that followed, he felt a momentary sorrow for Jake Halrohan, who was either dead or a prisoner again. But his case and Halrohan's were different—Halrohan had been duly convicted for some crime; Horner was innocent.
He swam, and grew gradually numb with cold. He became aware of a stronger current, surrendered himself to it and was borne along. The voices had faded behind him; there had been only the first volley of fire, then silence. He could not judge how far he had gone, nor did he know the geography in the vicinity of the state prison. In all probability there would be a three-state alarm out for Lionel Overman—which now meant for Horner. He had to hurry.