Younger still had the phone in one hand. Glynis was off somewhere, looking for first-aid materials.

“It’s not a real fireplace,” Jake said, edging away from Monster and his mess.

“It’s gas fed. See the knob over by the side? Turn it on and flick the ignition switch over the mantelpiece.”

“Doesn’t it need electricity?”

“No. It’s natural gas.”

Keeping the gun tightly gripped, Jake knelt by the fireplace and twisted the knob. It was stiff, but it gradually gave way and began to hiss. Standing, he clicked the switch.

Poof! Blue flames licked up among the artificial logs.

“It works!” Jake said, surprised. Not much heat, but it was better than nothing.

Younger was still on the phone, yelling at whoever was in charge of the skeleton crew at the big rig. Glynis came back from one of the bedrooms, dragging a bedsheet behind her. As she started to pull Younger’s shirt off, Tim continued to bark orders into the phone.

It took nearly half an hour for the ambulance to arrive. Jake saw the flashing lights flickering through the lodge’s curtained windows. While a pair of paramedics bandaged Younger properly, with Glynis hovering near them, a police cruiser pulled up.

Two state highway patrol officers came into the lodge, stamping snow off their boots. They looked around, scowling, saw Younger being attended to by the paramedics, saw Perez stretched out on the floor, saw Monster sitting with his head hung low and a pool of vomit at his feet, saw Jake in his sixteenth-century knee britches and embroidered jacket, the automatic pistol still tight in his hand.

“What the fuck has been going on here?” the first patrolman demanded.

His partner shook her head. “The senator’s going to be damned sore about this.”

Jake grinned wearily. “I’m sure he will be,” he said.

Fair Play

FAIR PLAY

Once the highway patrol officers heard Jake’s story, with Glynis and Younger nodding their agreement, they bundled Perez and Monster into their cruiser and told the paramedics to follow them to the highway patrol barracks off the interstate, with Younger, Jake, and Glynis.

As they drove through the swirling snow, the paramedic riding in back with them told Younger, “You’re pretty lucky, man. Another inch and you would’ve been in real trouble.”

“Yeah,” said Younger, his face ashen now. He sat on the gurney, Glynis close beside him. She had helped him put his blood-soaked shirt back over his bandaged ribs. Jake sat on the opposite side of the ambulance, with the medic.

“Not even a broken rib,” the guy said. “Bullet just grazed you.”

The highway patrol barracks was ablaze with light in the wind-whipped snow. As Younger gingerly stepped down from the ambulance he muttered, “They must have an emergency generator.”