Steel Force

by Geoffrey Saign

  Turning, she saw two men running down the hill. Steel must have killed one of them. She wanted to shout a warning, but knew she was finished if she did. It felt like she was watching a movie with a front row view of the climactic death scene.

  Steel pulled himself furiously toward the far bank. But the two men were fast approaching the corner where they would have a clear view of him.

  As afraid as she was of being seen, she realized she was even more afraid of Steel dying. That concern clutched her heart like a vise.

  Without waiting, she hoisted a rock and tossed it as far as she could downstream from the men, along the bank. It made a distinct thud and the two killers dove to their bellies just before the turn, their guns and eyes pointed downstream.

  Steel dragged himself over the far bank, out of sight.

  Christie sagged to the ground, eyes closed, umbrella in hand, waiting for the two men to figure it out.

  CHAPTER 75

  Steel expected bullets in his back over the last few yards, so he practically flung himself up and over the bank. It surprised him that the two men didn’t fire at him. He was even more stunned when he rolled back a distance, stood, and saw only Francis.

  “She couldn’t cross,” Francis said softly. “Her ankle.”

  Those words felt like a punch to the stomach. He swallowed. “Does she have her gun?”

  Francis shook his head.

  Turning, he stared across the stream. He shouldn’t have crossed. He was on the wrong side. Everything was wrong. He should have been over there, not Christie.

  It reminded him of Rachel’s death, and his wanting to take her place. Even though Christie had betrayed him, he didn’t want her to die. That concern overwhelmed him for a moment and he had to push it down to focus.

  His only advantage was that the two pursuers didn’t know where Christie was. He limped to the tree that the cables were wrapped around. The two killers were hidden in the trees back from the stream. Sliding to the other side of the tree, he peered across the water, scanning the hill near the trail. He was certain where Christie was hiding.

  He looked beyond Francis. The path ran a dozen yards through thick vegetation before the forest obscured it. From where he stood, a gentle slope led to the ocean, a hundred yards distant. He could hear the surf rhythmically lapping at the shoreline.

  Francis walked closer to him, careful to keep the tree as a protective shield between himself and the men on the opposite side. “They want to kill me,” he whispered. “If I go to them, they’ll leave.”

  Steel shook his head. “They want all of us.” He eyed the friar, wanting to get him out of reach of the killers’ guns. “Run down to the beach. Let them see you and make some noise. Stay there.”

  Francis hesitated, and then stepped out from the tree and ran into the vegetation, crashing through it, his sandals slapping against the wet ground.

  Steel watched the friar run into the thick growth, his sounds carrying to him even after he disappeared. At least Francis was safely out of the way. Though the friar was dead if the men made it across the stream.

  He peeked around the tree again, watching the two men approach the opposite side.

  The bearded man put his gun in his belt and started across the rocks. To cover his partner, the Hawaiian used the tree bracing the bridge cables for partial cover, while holding his gun in two hands with a wide stance. aiming at the opposite bank.

  Leaning his back against the trunk, Steel closed his eyes. An impossible situation. No. His mind raced through strategies, none of which seemed winnable. He thought about the OTF knife but decided to leave it for close quarters. Instead he picked up two baseball-sized stones.

  Then it came to him. Get the gun from the bearded man on the bridge and use it to kill the Hawaiian.

  Holding the rocks in tight fists, he waited. The Hawaiian would target the tree he was hiding behind, so even if he hit the bearded man, he would take a bullet.

  He couldn’t believe that he had let it come to this. It seemed absurd that their lives depended on two rocks in his hands.

  CHAPTER 76

  Christie was surprised Steel hadn’t shot the bearded man. His gun had to be jammed or empty.

  She heard Francis run off, guessing the risk Steel was going to take. If his gun was operational, he would have kept Francis with him. Sending the friar off signaled he was in trouble. Without a gun Steel would be left with either his knife or rocks. Even if he hit the man crossing the stream, the Hawaiian would shoot him.

  She hefted another rock in her hands and quietly pulled herself to a sitting position. Even though she was visible, she doubted the Hawaiian would turn around to check. It surprised her that they hadn’t figured it out the first time. This time it would be obvious.

  Focusing on the tree on the far bank, she waited for Steel to make his move, knowing she had to anticipate him.

  Then she realized her reaction would never be faster than the Hawaiian’s trigger finger. Steel would have to act on her cue.

  Struggling to stand up without making any noise, she balanced on her healthy leg, and took aim at the Hawaiian. She froze for a moment, and then threw the rock at his back, yelling as loud as she could.

  ***

  When Christie yelled, Steel looked around the side of the tree and glimpsed a flash of red clothing behind the pile of rocks. The Hawaiian was already whirling to fire at her; her thrown rock had missed him.

  Stepping out, Steel threw the two stones at the bearded man on the crossing. One missed the killer as he ducked, and splashed into the water, but the other struck the man’s chest.

  The bearded man grunted and shouted to his partner. The Hawaiian twisted to fire at Steel.

  Steel jumped behind the tree as several shots chewed into the tree’s bark with dull thuds. He peered out again on the other side of the trunk.

  The Hawaiian was slowly backing up the hill. However, the tree anchoring the cables was blocking more of the killer’s view of Steel’s side of the stream.

  The bearded man hung onto one of the cables with one hand, his gun in the other. But he lost his balance when water washed over his ankles. That forced him to tuck his gun back into his belt so he could grip both cables. He had ten feet to go to reach the other side.

  The Hawaiian was still moving up the hill, walking backward.

  Heaving a breath, Steel rounded the tree and jumped down the embankment. His leg burned and he wanted to scream. He shoved down the pain and leapt for the cables. By the time the bearded man saw him, he was already hurtling himself hand over hand across the cables. His move was too unexpected—and by then the bearded man partly shielded him from the Hawaiian’s line of sight.

  The bearded man stopped and reached for his gun, his face a pale specter in the dusk.

  Putting all his weight on the cables, Steel swung both feet at the man, kicking him in the stomach. His injured leg was on fire.

  Gasping, the killer teetered on the rock, the gun still in his hand, his arm swinging out. The bearded man tried to keep himself upright, his left hand clutching the cable.

  Steel jumped to the next stone, clawing at the man’s gun arm as it swung toward him.

  CHAPTER 77

  Christie watched Steel through a crack in the rocks, while listening to the Hawaiian scramble up the hill toward her. The Hawaiian must have decided to get her first, and then worry about Steel. He was using his partner to buy him time.

  She picked up another rock, keeping her back pressed against the ground. The scent of mud and sweat filled her nostrils. Inch by inch she edged herself sideways until she was parallel to the rocks hiding her.

  If she extended her right arm up it would be the first thing the killer would see. Gripping the stunbrella, her eyes remained glued to the edge of rock above her.

  It all depended on how close the killer moved to the edge. If he s
tood close enough, she could stretch over the rocks and strike his legs with the umbrella. But even if she stunned the man, if she didn’t get to him quickly he might recover and shoot her anyway.

  Her lips trembled. Shoes scraped on rock. Grit and sharp stones jammed into her back. Rain pattered against her face. She wanted to shiver but held herself steady. Just a little longer.

  The sounds became louder. She resisted the urge to sit up. Eighteen inches long, the stunbrella gave her a four-foot reach. But since the rocks rose a foot and a half above her, even if the man stood a foot away from them she might not be able to angle her arm to strike him.

  A whimper was trapped in her throat. She didn’t want to die like this. In the middle of the woods, cold, wet, dirty. Injured like a sick animal. Not even knowing why. All alone.

  The noise stopped.

  She sensed he was close. From her earlier glimpse she guessed five-foot-eight, one-seventy pounds, mid-forties. Small for a Hawaiian. He might be easy to knock down.

  Her choice was to either sit up and try to strike him or remain motionless for him to come closer. Unable to guess which was better, she didn’t move.

  Her lips twisted when the man’s dark-skinned face appeared above the rocks near her feet. Too far from her motionless arm. As he looked down at her, the barrel of his gun swung into view.

  CHAPTER 78

  Steel grabbed the bearded man’s gun hand, closing around it so the man couldn’t let go. Aware of what was happening across the rush of water on the other side, his lungs held a stifled cry.

  In one savage motion he brought the bearded man’s gun hand past him, overhead. Holding the killer’s gun in both hands, he forced the man’s arm down, aimed the gun at the Hawaiian, and squeezed the man’s trigger finger.

  The gun fired.

  The bearded man regained his balance on the rock, let go of the cable, and tried to club Steel in the face with his free hand. They both toppled into the surging water.

  ***

  The bullet ricocheted with a loud zing off the rocks. The Hawaiian jerked his head around, his gun still pointed at Christie.

  She sat up and jabbed the stunbrella against the man’s naked forearm, squeezing the trigger.

  The man cried out and fell back.

  Simultaneously a white, jagged line streaked down the wet surface of the umbrella to Christie’s hand. Her body stiffened with eighty-thousand volts of raw charge. It felt as if someone had pressed a thousand needles into her skin all at once.

  Numb, she fell back. Lying there, she stared up at the gray clouds, her hands trembling at her sides. Part of her brain struggled with the knowledge that she should get up and go for the gun or try to get away. Do something. Anything. But her limbs felt as distant as the sky above her and wouldn’t obey any orders she gave them.

  It took only moments for her whole system to emerge from the vacuum that engulfed her, but it seemed like an eternity. She wiggled her fingers and struggled to push herself upright.

  Halfway up, her trembling arms wouldn’t support her weight. As if she was trying to push energy and commands through neural synapses that were permanently shut down. She fell back to the ground with a gasp.

  She wanted to rest for a few more breaths but panicked over the idea of the man recovering before she did. She pushed against the ground. This time she sat up and leaned forward. A groan escaped her pursed lips and she shivered violently as stinging sensations swept her body. Nauseous, she couldn’t see the man.

  Her legs wobbly, she painfully rose to her knees, her injured ankle burning.

  The Hawaiian’s foot was trapped between two rocks and he rested on his back, aimed downhill like an arrow with outstretched arms, his head on a stone, his eyes closed. He looked peaceful. But the blood on the rock beneath his head told her that he might be dead.

  Her gaze shifted to the bridge. Empty.

  She picked up the umbrella and slid down the rocks as best she could, toward the Hawaiian’s gun. A Glock.

  CHAPTER 79

  The air was punched out of Steel’s lungs when he struck the water, mainly because he landed on the bearded man’s knee. Water flowed into his mouth. He tried to push himself off the killer, but instead got entangled with the man’s limbs and sank. Water buffeted him on all sides. Cold liquid covered his face as he clawed for the surface.

  A break appeared in the muddy water that was smothering him.

  Surfacing, he coughed, choked on water, and was sucked under again. The killer’s body became trapped beneath him like some macabre air cushion, which he rode along a furious hundred feet over rocks, quickly ending up in a small bay.

  The other body drifted away.

  Surf pounded him when he lifted his head up. Choking on salt water, its scent strong in the air, he tried to float on his back. After a few frog strokes, strong hands pulled him to shore. There he coughed up water for an agonizing minute.

  Lying on the stony beach, he looked up into the friar’s face, and then stared out at the water.

  “You’re the only one I saw,” said Francis.

  “We have to move. Christie…” Steel couldn’t finish. He felt numb inside. He didn’t want to face the fact that he had missed the Hawaiian with his shot. The Hawaiian would have killed Christie, and then come for them.

  Oddly, Francis was smiling.

  The friar touched Steel’s shoulder, his voice calm. “Christie called our names.”

  CHAPTER 80

  Christie leaned against a sapling, balanced on one foot while gripping the Hawaiian’s silenced Glock. Her voice was hoarse from yelling their names over and over.

  There was no way for her to cross the stream and hobble down to the beach. Maybe Steel was dead or dying. Francis would have no way to bring him up from the beach.

  Frustrated, she didn’t know what to do. She was soaked and muddy, her hair wrapped around her neck, her eyes filled with the constant drizzle. Exhausted. She couldn’t leave so she waited, expecting the worst.

  It seemed to take forever before the two men appeared on the opposite bank. While Francis and Steel climbed down to the ropes, she wanted to shout in triumph. Instead she pursed her lips and watched them cross the stream.

  She saw the dark stain on Steel’s shorts. The wound was an ugly gouge on his outer thigh. A film of red trickled over his skin, which the rain kept washing away.

  Francis made it across first. She hobbled up to him and waited. He hugged her without hesitation. Tears filled her eyes, running with the rain down her cheeks. He pulled back from her, smiled, and they waited for Steel.

  Steel crossed, stopping to glance up the hill at the dead Hawaiian. Francis allowed him to lean on his shoulder.

  Christie kept her distance. A yard away. She looked into Steel’s eyes. All her years of being aggressive, of taking the initiative, evaporated. Unable to act. Instead she waited for some sign or signal from him.

  He looked at her, and for a moment she thought something had shifted between them. A hint of relief showed in his eyes. “How?”

  She lifted the umbrella a few inches. “Eighty-thousand volts.”

  He lifted an eyebrow, and then said softly, “Thanks.” Turning, he hobbled up the path, Francis beside him.

  Standing still, Christie focused her watery eyes on the trail beneath her feet.

  As if remembering something, Steel stopped and looked back at her. He held out an arm. In two quick hops she was beside him, and he looped his arm under hers and around to her shoulder. The three of them began up the hill. She realized this was as much as she might ever get from Steel.

  It took them the better part of an hour and a half to return to the car. Along the way Christie recovered her sandal and Steel found his spare magazine.

  The rain stopped, but they were exhausted, wet, and shivering. Steel dug out his keys, started the Civic, and blasted the heater.


  Christie ripped off a piece of the lower part of her top and tied it around Steel’s leg wound. Just the fact that he accepted her help signaled how weary he was. She knew he had lost a lot of blood. His pale face showed it.

  Without a word he flicked on the headlights, turned out of the lot, and drove.

  She sat in the front seat, her right foot extended, her left pushed against the floorboard. Francis rested in back. The friar seemed strangely calm after the deaths of three men. Christie still didn’t understand why the killers had chased them. She was even more dismayed by the rush of emotion she had experienced over seeing Steel alive at the stream.

  She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she had experienced that kind of relief, joy, and happiness over anything. Maybe in college. One of her close friends had asked her to be part of her wedding. Something that simple had seemed extraordinary. She had felt special. Included. How strange and sad that she had to go through something like this to feel that way again.

  It was easier now to admit that she cared about Steel. That love was possible. Too little too late. She had missed her chance. He wouldn’t want to hear it now.

  She glanced at him. Maybe he would never trust her again. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes.

  CHAPTER 81

  Christie volunteered to limp into the Kauai International Hostel, just south of Kapa’a, to see if she could get a room. Francis looked too conspicuous and Steel’s leg wound too suspicious.

  Smiling at the tired night clerk, she said she had a flat tire and had sprained her foot on a hiking trail. She explained she needed a private room for three.

  The hesitant clerk agreed to move an extra mattress into a room with a queen-sized bed, but only after she offered double the room price. A communal kitchenette was available for cooking. Steel wanted the kitchen for breakfast.