by Radke, K. E.
Outside, another man with a cowboy hat shadowing his face began with a lazy southern drawl but dead serious tone, “I’m not much of a talker. I like to shoot first so there aren’t any questions later. Danny-boy there, I’m going to tell the boss you shot him. Come on out of there so I can get a look at you. My finger’s still on the trigger, happy to oblige any funny business.”
The growing puddle of blood reached Lincoln’s boots in the tiny room and he shouted, “I have an unstable woman in here with Alzheimer’s. Do I have your word you won’t hurt her if she tries to run?”
The man took off his cowboy hat and placed it over his chest, “You have my word no one will shoot if she suddenly runs. But if you’re lying to me and she kills one of my men because of your tall tale, I’ll shoot her myself. I am a gentleman, so it’ll be painless.” He replaced the cowboy hat on his head and added, “I do not miss.” The tone guaranteed his accurate aim and gave his warning simultaneously.
After cleaning his face the best he could, Noah put his Desert Eagle back in the holster on his hip and exited the building first. He had to pull the dead body out of the way for the wheelchairs to get by. Wyatt rolled out after him and Lincoln followed, pushing Gloria into the sunlight.
Four men surrounded them. Each one had a rifle and handgun in a holster on their hip. One had a sheathed sword attached to his back, and another fellow gathered the guns off their dearly departed friend.
“We’ll be taking your weapons. All complaints get a one-way ticket to the ground with a bullet to the brain,” the spokesperson said and tilted his cowboy hat forward like he was doing them a favor.
No one said a word as one of his crew started relieving Lincoln’s group of their knives and firearms. The gigantic man was over six feet tall and completely bald. The sun had scorched every inch of visible skin. He looked like a giant wandering torch. Lincoln’s group was distracted by their captor’s extremely crispy appearance and flaking white skin.
Lincoln cringed as the man’s red hand wrapped around his Glock 17 and stuck it in a foreign holster on his belt. The AKs were slung over the guard’s shoulder. Compared to his massive body the automatic weapons looked like toys.
All the knives were chucked except Noah’s machete. The perfect, sharpened knives skidded across the pavement only followed by Lincoln’s eyes. None of their captors seemed bothered by it or gathered them up to take as their own.
The giant stood a few feet from Gloria leaving her frisk for last. She whimpered as the man cautiously approached her and his shadow fell upon her. He removed the pack on her lap and gently held out his hand, so she could take it. Instead she cowered at the gesture and brought up her arms to block the hit she thought was coming. A few seconds ticked by before she peered out from under her arms.
The cowboy raised questioning eyebrows at her reaction but stayed silent. Lincoln had never seen his mother so scared or cooperative, and hoped the surprise wasn’t written all over his face as she slowly stood so they could check her for weapons.
An unintelligible grunt from the giant signaled he finished. Relief flooded through Lincoln at the missed discovery of his and Wyatt’s ankle knives.
“She’s sick, but why are you in a wheelchair?” the leader in the cowboy outfit asked Wyatt.
“Broken foot,” Wyatt lifted his pant leg and showed them the only swollen flesh visible above his sock.
“You might want to remove that shoe before it won’t come off,” the cowboy advised whistling at the sight. “Stay in the middle and the munchers won’t get’cha. If you run I won’t have to go to target practice later today. It’s what I call efficient. As long as I can see your hands and you don’t reach for anything in your packs, I’ll let you carry them,” he said graciously and knew no one else would want to carry the extra weight in his crew. “Boys keep an eye on the two packs on their laps, we don’t want any surprises.” Continuing in a happy tone he added, “And if you see the Prince of Pop, that elusive bastard is mine.”
“Prince of Pop?” Wyatt muttered curiously.
One of the other guards chuckled and spoke up, “Curly black hair, shiny red coat with thick black trim. And one glove on the left hand.”
Mumbling sarcastically under his breath, Wyatt said, “How thrilling.”
The burnt man heard the joke and quirked one corner of his mouth as he took his spot behind the group to make sure no one lagged behind and tried to disappear. Surprisingly the leader took a spot at the rear, and relaxingly hummed Deep in the Heart of Texas. The rest stayed vigilant on the outer circle of defense, spread out around Lincoln’s group and led them down the street.
Noah let a few minutes pass before he sidled up next to Lincoln muttering excitedly, “They didn’t keep the knives. Tossed them out like trash on the side of the road.”
“A fucking waste. Why do you sound so excited?” Lincoln muttered bitterly.
“Because they must have some serious fucking firepower to be throwing away expensive ass knives. And I can’t wait to fuck them over with it,” Noah said enthusiastically. Being right under five feet he was used to people underestimating him because of his height, which always places him in a good offensive position when the fighting started. And with men in charge, the testosterone was bound to blow someone’s fuse.
Retracing their steps, not one pair of eyes tried to be discreet as Lincoln’s group entered a small section on the left of civilization. They roamed straight down the middle of the road like the guards were putting them on display, and the little haven’s boss was about to make an example of the new intruders.
Back where they started, the cowboy finally took the lead, and nodded to the disheveled guard Noah spoke to earlier. She quickly turned her back on them before they could make eye contact. Further up the street were remnants of a coffee shop, an insurance company, a dry cleaner and a clothing store before the group stopped in front of an untouched, fully operational Mexican restaurant.
The door was propped open for cool air, but the only thing the weather provided was the stifling hot sun. Something signaled all their guards to leave except three. Only the cowboy proceeded leisurely inside to the only customers sitting at a booth. They were all dressed similarly in flannel shirts and jeans with boots to match. At the sound of footsteps, an older woman popped her head out of the kitchen and her gaze landed on the cowboy before she surveyed the crowd near the front.
“Fuck I’m hungry,” Noah said under his breath inhaling the scent of authentic Mexican food.
The plump Mexican woman smiled broadly and swiftly waddled to the front of the restaurant. She gestured for everyone to come inside and greeted them with a thick Mexican accent, “Come in, come in. You must be hungry.”
“No senorita,” a voice called gently from the booth to her. “They need to watch the prisoners.”
Lincoln’s ears burned at the word prisoners and his entire body went rigid. The woman’s eyes fell upon Wyatt and Gloria while she wrung her fingers nervously. Nodding his head in her direction with a smile tugging at his lips, Lincoln said in Spanish, “Please help us. My mother is all I have left. She won’t survive here. Pretend I’m asking for tortillas. How do we get out—,” He kept his tone light and casual hoping no one else could understand him.
“Stop talking,” one of the guards interrupted.
“What’s he saying?” another one asked.
The woman gave an endearing smile. Lincoln held his breath when she opened her mouth to answer, “Senor, tortillas and water for the old woman?” She glanced back at the men occupying the booth.
A hand waved allowing her suggestion. She nodded at Lincoln, saying in Spanish, “If I help you escape they’ll kill us all. The guards keep the weapons. I only get ingredients to feed them.” She tried to keep the words from sounding bitter.
Noah spoke up in Spanish, “Hot water can do a lot of damage when thrown in the right direction, or oil. Do you have a gas stove?” She nodded and kept the smile on her face like an innocent mask listening
to Noah. He grinned, “Leave the gas on and we’ll do the rest. Just make sure you get far away from here.”
She answered with a simple nod without agreeing to their strategy and slipped back into the kitchen. Lincoln’s hope withered away, and he opted for plan B. He just needed to come up with it first.
Sweating profusely in the bright sunlight, Noah squinted at the crispy man behind him. “You really need to get in the shade. Skin cancer still exists, and you’re toasted. They really couldn’t get you a hat?”
“Shut the fuck up,” another guard snarled.
“Limited vocabulary that one,” Noah mumbled. The huge, red brute chuckled. Lincoln took a spare moment from planning his escape and hurled a callous look in Noah’s direction to shut his mouth.
“It’s fucking hot and I’m hungry. If you guys want to stand here in the sun like a bunch of bitches watching those fuckers eat then get the fuck out of my way,” Wyatt said hotly and rolled forward. Lincoln’s mouth almost fell open from his outburst.
“I’m no one’s bitch,” one of the other men claimed. His eyes nervously bounced between the men inside and Wyatt rolling away. Before he made a choice, the huge brute said with a prominent lisp, “Assholes could have offered us some water.” Blocking his face from the sun with his hand, he turned to follow the runaway wheelchair.
Wyatt grinned as he continued to roll himself into the looted art gallery next door. As a teacher, he watched teenage boys coerce each other every day. Calling someone a bitch was the easiest way to get someone to do something stupid just to prove they were their own boss. It always worked against him in the classroom, but nowadays he found the strategy useful.
Before Lincoln pushed Gloria out of view with Noah by his side, the Mexican woman came bustling out of the kitchen swiping the sweat from her forehead with a towel and a cup.
She headed straight for them and gently placed the glass of the water in Gloria’s shaking hand. Lincoln managed to pry his eyes away from Gloria’s tremors when the Mexican woman’s conspiratorial tone hit his ears, “I make tortillas for all. Three minutes before done.” Her eyes bobbed between Lincoln and Noah before she turned on her heel and went straight back to the kitchen with a purpose.
They quickly rushed down the sidewalk to join Wyatt. Noah entered the art gallery before Lincoln assessing the area. He rubbed his belly excitedly and announced, “Good news, tortillas for everyone.”
Nothing in the art gallery was missing. Most of the pictures still hung on the walls. They were just scorched beyond recognition. Gray ash littered the ground and swirled in the air with all the moving feet.
“Is there a bathroom here?” Gloria asked in a feeble tone holding up her empty water cup. She pushed her pack to the ground ready to stand.
“Can’t you hold it?” one of the guards said obviously annoyed. Gloria cowered, flinching like she’d been slapped.
“Maybe in the back?” the big brute nodded his head and extended his hand out to help her up.
“We shouldn’t split up,” the other guard spoke up and realized he should have kept the information to himself. It was obvious they used the giant’s presence to intimidate people into compliance.
“You’re scared of a few unarmed men? Take the old lady to the bathroom then and I’ll stay here,” the big one offered lifting his eyebrows unconcerned. Both guards glared at the giant challenging them and neither offered to take his place, so he shrugged and held out his hand again. Gloria shakily took it and stood up slowly.
A hand shot out and grabbed Gloria’s arm causing her to cry out in pain. The yelp triggered pure rage and Lincoln automatically punched the man hurting his mother in the face so he’d let go her. Then he twisted the man’s arm behind his back and held him hostage as a shield against any flying bullets.
The other guard aimed his gun at Lincoln. “Let him go.”
“No,” Lincoln growled the single word.
The giant shifted his feet and aimed at Lincoln. Noah quickly put himself between the two men and raised his hands in a nonthreatening manner. In a persuading tone Noah said, “You’re fucking huge as fuck. And they only see you as a weapon. One they shit on and left out in the sun. This is your way out cause we’re leaving. You can either help us or die with them. Your choice.”
The huge man’s grip tightened on the AK and replied uneasily, “You have nothing, and I’m protected here.”
“Are you?” Wyatt spoke up. “That’s the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen. What the hell do they make you do? You’re barely surviving, while they’re over there eating and having a grand ole time.”
Wyatt held eye contact with the massive man and watched his loyalty falter. His eyes shifted downward, flickering over the flaking, blistering, red skin before he pinned his eyes to Lincoln.
The other free guard shouted trying to keep the situation under control, “The only two people in the room with guns are aimed at you and your friend. Everyone shut the fuck up and let my friend go. Maybe I’ll let you live.”
“I’d rather go down fighting than serve those fuckers in there and die painfully slow from skin cancer,” Noah said smugly and crossed his arms over his chest.
Without making a sound the giant swiftly shifted his aim and he shot the other guard with a gun in the head. The hostage watched his friend’s body fall limply to the ground and started sputtering, trying to find his voice to call for help. Lincoln placed a firm hand over the man’s mouth to muffle the noise at the same time Gloria stabbed him in the eye with a nail file and wrenched the man’s gun from its holster. Muffled screams ripped from the guard’s lungs as he tried to squirm out of Lincoln’s grip to aid his eye.
Everyone gawked at Gloria, “What?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Fucker touched my arm.”
“What happened to the sweet old lady?” the huge guy asked dumbfounded.
“She was never sweet,” Noah murmured under his breath. He commandeered the AK and the Glock from the dead guy.
“I thought for sure one of you would give me away,” she admitted.
Lincoln realized she’d been playing everyone, and only pretended to be a feeble, and scared woman to strike at the right moment. He hid the proud, raised corners of his mouth behind the squirming man still trying to get out of his grasp.
Agonizing, shrill screams pierced the quiet block echoing like an alarm bell calling for help.
Noah’s eyes widened, “That’s the oil. And the gas. One shot could blow the entire building.”
Lincoln released his prisoner and shoved him out of the way. He grabbed Gloria’s arm and thrust her out of the gaping hole of the art gallery and yelled, “Run!” She took off down the street as he turned to help Noah with Wyatt. They both watched as the big brute picked up Wyatt, wheelchair and all, and ran straight for the hole in the wall. Ready to pummel anything in his way.
Lincoln jumped to the side out of the way and waited until Noah passed him dragging Gloria’s pack, before he followed right on their heels.
Suddenly a force crashed into him from behind and Lincoln flew over the sidewalk and a man in a shiny red, shimmery jacket encrusted with dirt. It was chowing down on an arm—with only one hand covered by a black glove.
And then he crashed into pavement.
NINE
C oughing wreaked havoc on Lincoln’s body as he turned his head and grunted in pain. Slowly opening his eyes to the glaring sunlight, a huge red blob popped into his line of vision. In a lame attempt to punch the threat above him, his arm fled upward without any force.
Easily dodging the blow, a faraway voice said, “He’s awake.” He felt the straps across his chest loosen and someone stealing his pack.
Lincoln’s head stopped spinning and his blurry vision cleared as Gloria appeared and shaded him from the sun. Dried blood trailed down the length of her face and stopped below her cheek. “Fucking cunt never gives up.”
At the sound of her voice relief overpowered the ringing in his ear and the pain ricocheting inside his head. He tri
ed to sit up only to collapse back on the ground. Every slight movement caused swirls of dust to waft around him and cough violently again.
Gloria glanced from Lincoln to Heath. The gentle giant hovered over Noah trying to wake him. The air was coated in dust and debris from the explosion. A haze protecting them from threats—until it disappeared—but her plan was to be long gone by then.
Her gaze stopped on Wyatt propped up against a building with a pile of guns, a machete and the supply packs next to him. She could hear the tiny whimpers as he fidgeted with his foot trying to sit comfortably. Kneeling beside him she grabbed an AK and a Glock without a suppressor. The sling was over her shoulder before he could try to interject or attempt to snatch it away.
Her hand slid over one of the supply packs next to Wyatt. Freedom at her fingertips—if only she knew where Lincoln was. Instead of taking one she sternly called out, “Heath, I’m going to look for a car. Kill anything that moves.” His mouth opened slightly as if to argue, instead he nodded. She didn’t wait for his approval and was already down the street carrying the Glock in her hand.
While it would be safer to stick together, only two of them were coherent and capable of moving. If they all wanted to survive, the only option was to split up. If she wanted to get back to Lincoln—everyone had to survive.
The entire block had been cleared of vehicles. At the intersection she surveyed the area until her gaze landed on small parking garage. Breathing raggedly, she ignored the weight of the gun and forced herself to keep going until the parking garage’s shadow swallowed her.
Out of the heat, she leaned against the cement wall to catch her breath and scanned the area for cannibals and cars. Eight vehicles were dispersed on the ground level and only one of them occupied—a sleek, midnight blue Jeep Cherokee.