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Michael lowered his body back inside the car, making sure that he thumbed the safety on his Ruger SR-762, and carefully moving it through the open window. He pulled his ringing cell phone out of his pocket and answered it.
“What?!” he impatiently yelled to be heard over the gunfire.
“Michael. It’s Ray. I’m here with Brian. Where are you guys?” he asked.
“Oh, hey,” the distracted man gratefully said. “We’re heading south on Highway I-19. I’ll text you our location. This overzealous bastard keeps scurrying around.”
“Shit. We’re heading the wrong direction. We’re going north. We’ll turn around,” Ray responded, looking sideways at Brian.
The huge man suddenly turned the Chevelle around in the middle of the highway. Heat from the rotating rubber’s friction on the timeworn asphalt created deep black skid marks.
“All right,” Michael replied. “I’ll text you.” He sounded anxious to get back to shooting.
“Okay,” Ray agreed. “See you soon.”
“Yup. Bye.” Putting his phone back in his pocket, he leaned his body out of the window.
“Bye,” Ray echoed, hearing Michael end the call. He gave Brian back his cell phone, and continued reloading weapons as they approached the last of their enemies who still drew breath.