The Bronco slammed into the back of the truck with a loud bang. The impact jostled us, but the pickup failed to budge from the tracks.
The crossing signals began their insistent clanging.
The train was closing fast. Frantic blasts from its horn continued to split the chill morning air.
He jabbed the gun through the back window slat.
In one fluid motion, I leaned back against the passenger door, brought my left knee to my chin, then uncoiled a savage kick. The heel of my left boot hit the gun as it went off with a deafening roar.
I expected to feel the Bronco hit the rear of the pickup, but nothing hap-pened.
Anger distorted his face. He swung the gun toward me.
The train’s horn continued to blast. The dinging of the signal bells as-saulted me. Metal screamed against metal, as the train skidded toward us. The semaphore lights flashed wildly. Bells clanged incessantly.
Before he could shoot again, I kicked him hard in the solar plexus. He groaned and dropped the gun.
As I clawed at the door handle, I could feel the horn’s blasts.
As I lifted the handle, I shoved my shoulder hard against the door.
It was locked.