Maxwell Cain- Burrito Avenger

by Adam Smith

  One of the men had a grenade on his belt, and Max grinned as he pocketed the explosive.

  More single shots rang out. Max looked back to see Kate’s firing angle and determined the enemies were ahead of him to the left somewhere, so he ran to find them.

  As he ran, Max came across several dead thugs lying in the aisles. Kate’s deadly aim was clearing his path for him. A few of the men were alive and tried to aim at Max, but he finished them off with quick bursts from his rifle.

  Then he was out of the aisle and in a large open space. A crowd of businessmen poured fire at him, and he ducked behind the corner to take shelter. There were so many men shooting at him that the wooden barrier crumbled under their focused fire.

  Max opened fire at one crate inside the aisle and rushed at the wall. His shoulder bones clicked together as he hurled himself against the wooden box. When it cracked open, he yanked out a dozen white plastic-wrapped bricks. After clearing a tunnel, Max fired through the weak wood on the other side and kicked an opening to crawl through.

  The gunfire was concentrated on the mouth of the first aisle, so Max had no problem creeping along his new aisle and approaching the gangsters from a different angle. When he reached the corner leading to the open area, he had a perfect flanking position on the businessmen that obliterated their safe shelter. He raked his fire back and forth, scything down ten enemies in one sweep.

  The ex-cop grabbed a fresh rifle and hustled to the far corner by the freight elevator. Footsteps rang on the metal catwalks overhead as Kate hastened to follow him. The blonde baker repeated his descent maneuver, vaulting the railing and dropped down the stacks of crates until she reached the floor. She was panting from the exercise but looked alert.

  “Everyone down?” Max asked her as they ran.

  “Yes,” Kate gasped. “The room is empty.”

  They slowed as they approached the freight elevator. Max punched the button to open the heavy metal grate, and as the doors slowly retracted to the sides Max let out an impressed whistle.

  Sitting inside the large freight elevator were two stacks of pinewood crates. Resting between them sat a beautiful cherry red antique muscle car with black stripes and chrome accents.

  Even Kate paused to appreciate the vehicle. “Now that’s a car,” she said. “Can we take it?”

  “It’s not stealing if you’re a cop,” Max said as he walked to the driver’s side door.

  “You’re not a cop, though.”

  “Whatever.”

  The door was unlocked, and when Max slid into the plush black leather seat, he found the keys dangling from the ignition. A lucky black rabbit’s foot hung right next to a red metal key fob on the ring. Max propped his rifle against the bench seat and checked the dash. The car was a faithful replica on the outside, but a few modern conveniences like cruise control had been added into the dash.

  Kate slid into the passenger’s side. She bounced a bit on the plush leather and smiled. “Comfy.”

  The engine roared to life when Max turned the key, then settled into a rumbling purr.

  “That’s a beautiful sound,” Max said.

  The radio clicked on by itself and death metal growled from the speakers. Max frowned as he heard the same song from the breakroom: “Fragile ponies, tearing up the seaside! Waves of blood on sparkly hooves!”

  Max smacked the OFF button and silenced the radio.

  “Aw, Max,” Kate pouted.

  Max looked grim. “No. Go drop the elevator, but don’t close the doors.”

  Still pouting, Kate got out and pushed the button to descend, then slid back into her seat and closed her door. The elevator rattled as it slowly lowered to the ground level.

  As soon as the elevator cleared the second floor and showed him the ground level, Max gritted his teeth. Dim light illuminated a massive room filled with the smell of oil and gasoline. The bottom floor of the warehouse was a garage full of metal racks holding car parts and tools. Cars were parked everywhere. Radios blared, and televisions played scenes from various franchises. Max counted three adult films and the first two Undead Bikini Bimbos movies. Gangsters in suits stood conversing with workers in blue mechanic’s jumpers. No one appeared to be on guard, but a few were turning to see who was coming down the freight elevator.

  While the elevator was still five feet off the ground, Max snapped on the high beams. Men yelled in anger and shielded their eyes as Max gunned the engine and threw the car into drive. With a squeal of rubber, the muscle car launched off the elevator and crashed to the ground, then took off like a shot toward the open door at the far end.

  Max took special delight in running down a few of the gangsters who were too slow to move. One or two of them had drawn guns but were shielding their eyes while shouting for him to stop. Max mowed them down without mercy as he rushed toward freedom.

  Some of the criminals mobilized quickly and leaped into their cars. Engines roared to life all around as Max and Kate sped through the garage.

  Max was forced to spin the wheel and dodge between metal racks. Tires squealed and filled the air with a sharp, smoky stench.

  Gunfire raked the metal racks around them. Kate rolled down her window and returned fire, snapping off single shots with her rifle. Every shot she fired punched through a gangster, but the army of men inside the garage was surging into action. Their only hope was to escape as fast as they could. Max leaned into the gas pedal and pressed the car to its limits as he threw the vehicle into another turn.

  Cars ahead of them rushed to block their path. Max wove back and forth through enemy vehicles, narrowly missing a collision with a white sedan. Kate shot and killed the driver.

  Two purple cars pulled alongside them on either side, and the passengers leveled pistols. Max and Kate were forced to duck down as gunfire stabbed into the sides of their car. Max thanked the automakers of old who’d built cars from metal instead of fiberglass.

  Kate switched her rifle from single shot to full auto, poked her gun out of her window, and strafed back and forth, letting her bullets rake the side of the enemy car. Brakes squealed, and the enemy car peeled away to scrape through some metal racks before impacting against a metal pillar with a hideous crunch.

  Still ducking, Max rolled down his window. He fished the grenade from his pocket and popped the pin, then sat up and hurled it straight across into the car on their left. The driver panicked and swerved hard away from Max’s car moments before an explosion tore through the vehicle and blew out the windshield. As Max and Kate sped away, a secondary explosion ripped through the purple car and hurled it into the air.

  The deaths of those two cars cleared the way for Max and Kate. Gunfire cracked the air behind them. Tires squealed as new drivers joined the chase.

  The red muscle car, banged and bruised but still charging ahead, roared through the open garage door and out into the sunlight.

  Max sucked in a deep breath. He could taste salt water in the air. A cool sea breeze brushed moisture over his skin, and a genuine smile spread across his face.

  “We’re out,” the ex-cop crowed.

  “Yes,” Kate agreed, “we’re out of the warehouse. But we’re stuck inside Papa Sal’s district surrounded by buildings full of his private army. Now what?”

  “Now we kill whoever gets in our way.”

  Chapter 13

  Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

  Nick Sharpe slammed the door of the police station breakroom. Unpainted cinderblock walls covered in expired legal guidelines and notices for mandatory overtime bounced the sound back and forth through the bare lounge. With a huff, Max’s longtime partner dropped himself into a cheap white folding chair clustered around one of the plastic tables. His perfectly coiffed black hair drifted lazily in the breeze of the chugging air conditioner.

  Nick and Max’s other pal, Hunter March, didn’t even look up from cleaning a pile of wea
pons. Both men wore their black police uniforms buttoned up and ready for action. As Nick squirmed in his seat to find a comfortable spot where the padding hadn’t yet worn through, Hunter picked up a blocky pistol with a sharply-squared trigger guard and textured grip.

  The bearded cop’s eyes gleamed as he inspected the pistol’s slide from up close. “I love this gun. You ever seen such a beautiful thing?”

  Nick grunted noncommittally. He glared at the only television in the room, a widescreen mounted to one wall. Camera crews were showing footage of explosions ripping through the streets downtown. St. Thomas Aquinas Boulevard had been turned into Swiss cheese by what the attractive redheaded reporter informed her audience was a grenade launcher.

  “Assholes,” Nick grumbled. “Do they have any idea how much it costs to fix a pothole that big?”

  “Still no call to hit the road?” As he spoke, Hunter flickered the tactical light mounted underneath his pistol. He rattled the gun, shook his head, and grabbed a nearby screwdriver.

  “No. McGarrick has us locked down. Any cop who tries to go stop the escalating gang war out there is facing serious suspension.” Nick frowned. “Not that anyone but us is jumping at the chance. Most of the force is just fine hunkering down and playing cleanup afterward.”

  Hunter finished adjusting the mounting of his tactical light and rattled the gun again. He smiled in satisfaction and set the pistol aside with a loving pat before moving on to cleaning a bulky rifle. “How much you think McGarrick is making off this deal?”

  Nick snorted. “Papa Sal’s got to be offering a fortune in voluntary fines. His crew is tearing up the city in pursuit of their target.”

  “Any ID on the unlucky bastard?”

  “No. Phone intercepts from Sal’s men tell us it’s some rival hitman but they haven’t identified the gang. He hasn’t had any backup yet, so our intel guys are guessing he’s from a new gang looking to move in on the city.”

  “Oh great,” Hunter groaned. “That’s all we need, a twelfth gang clawing for territory. Still…” The muscular man’s eyes caressed his favorite pistol as it lay nearby on the table. “Another gang, another excuse for target practice.”

  “And more work for us,” Nick sighed. He sat back and propped his booted feet up on the plastic table as he watched the news. Camera drones had spotted frenzied vehicular activity inside Papa Sal’s fortified seaside district. Already, journalism crews were rushing to get footage from as close as they dared. Corporations were vying for advertising slots in anticipation of a coming bloodbath.

  Nick shook his head. “Here they go again. Oh well. You and I may have to sit here stressing over this battle and waiting on McGarrick, but at least Max gets a vacation away from criminals. I’ll bet that bum is relaxing right now.”

  Chapter 14

  Angry Max

  Screaming tires echoed from the cavernous garage door behind Max’s car as every working vehicle rushed into the chase.

  Max pounded the gas pedal to the floor and rocketed through the warehouse district, dodging stacks of crates and large metal shipping containers. In the seat beside him, Kate turned to glance through the back window. Her white fingers clenched the plush black seat until the leather squeaked. “There’s an army chasing us, Max.”

  “Uh-huh.” Max didn’t even spare a glance in his rearview mirror. He knew Hell had been torn open to spew forth its denizens.

  Kate swiveled around to face front again and rested the butt of her rifle on the floorboard between her feet. “So, we kill everyone, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  Metal clicked as Kate pulled out the magazine for her rifle and checked the rounds. A sigh escaped her lips as she pressed the magazine home again. “We’re gonna need more ammo.”

  “Scavenge my rounds. I won’t be able to fire a rifle while I’m driving.”

  Car engines grew louder behind them as Kate plucked the ammunition from Max’s gun and dropped the empty rifle on the floor. More warehouses around them opened their roll-up doors, and additional cars flooded the district as the cherry red muscle car flashed past.

  Max turned a corner and spotted the perimeter wall of the warehouse district. Metal shipping containers stacked four high and hundreds long created an impassible boundary which stretched on for miles and formed a ring around Papa Sal’s secure goods depot.

  “There’s got to be a gate,” Max growled. His fingers clenched the steering wheel until the knuckles turned white.

  “Max, they’re getting closer.” Real worry was beginning to enter Kate’s voice.

  “Close enough for you to hit?”

  “Probably.”

  “Don’t rest on probably. Wait and make your shots count but keep them off us as long as you can. I need to find us a way out.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Kate said. She tried to shift around and aim out the window, but she was right-handed, and the angle was terrible. Instead, she propped the under barrel of her rifle on the back of the bench seat to steady her aim. “I hope you’re not too attached to our rear window.”

  “Nah. Glass is for pretty boys with hair to keep brushed. Give me some wind with my ride.”

  Thunder slammed Max’s ears as Kate opened fire. The bullet tore through the back window with a clink, and the familiar smell of gunpowder filled the cabin. Max glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a silver SUV suddenly jerk hard to the left and roll over a green sedan. Both cars flipped and rolled. The sea of drivers following them dodged around the wreckage.

  A whistle of approval jumped out of Max’s mouth before he realized he’d meant to do it. “Nice shot.”

  “Thanks. Before I got my own bakery, I was a tail gunner on a bread truck in San Francisco.” Kate sighted in again and opened fire, causing another pursuing car to swerve and crash. “They’re getting scared and weaving, which is slowing them down. How we doing on finding an escape route?”

  “Straight ahead, coming up on what looks like a gate.”

  The structure ahead did indeed look like a gate. Metal shipping containers had been artfully arranged to create an opening thirty feet tall and thirty feet wide. Massive steel gates barred with railroad ties across the inside blocked the exit. What worried Max more than the fortified gate were the machinegun emplacements up above. Already, the gunners were swiveling to aim their sights on the incoming red muscle car.

  “The gate may not be an option,” Max shouted as he spun the wheel. “Duck down, Kate!”

  Clanking booms echoed across the open pavement between warehouses as the machineguns opened fire. Explosions of asphalt showed the line of fire as the gunners stitched up the road in their quest to zero in on their target.

  The windshield in front of Kate spiderwebbed as bullets pierced the car. The blonde baker squeaked, dropped to the floor on top of both rifles, and narrowly avoided being punctured as more bullets tore up the beautiful leather seat where she’d been sitting.

  Max’s evasive maneuvers disrupted the gunners’ aim, and the bullets largely missed the car after the first round. However, dodging fire meant spilling velocity, and the angry swarm of drivers behind them began to narrow the gap. As Max floored the gas pedal and sped away from the armored gate with the wall of metal containers blazing by to his left, enemy vehicles closed in around them. Gunfire rang out as gangsters in the vehicles opened up with rifles and handguns.

  Kate climbed back into her seat and propped her rifle on the back of the bench to return fire. Her shots caused a pileup behind them as three cars slammed together and crumpled, but there were so many pursuing vehicles her efforts were no longer making a noticeable difference.

  A silver sedan pulled up on their left side. Max saw a flash of black as a gangster in a suit leaned out of the passenger window and aimed a huge revolver at him.

  Quick as a flash, Kate swiveled in her seat and fired through Max’s window. The crashing explosion of t
he shot deafened Max for a moment. The passenger gangster was thrown back inside his car and landed on the driver, who swerved hard toward Max. The silver sedan’s nose barely cleared the rear of the red muscle car as Max roared away.

  Behind them, a black SUV slammed into the passenger’s side of the silver sedan and crumpled it into scrap.

  As soon as the silver car was gone, a black sportscar pulled up on Max’s side while a white SUV drew alongside Kate’s window. The white SUV bristled with gun barrels as every gangster in the car tried to aim through the windows. Bullets tore through the red muscle car, and Max and Kate ducked to take shelter against the shots. Glittering glass splashed across the seats as every remaining window shattered.

  On the left, another gangster leaned out of the sportscar window. He tried to get a bead on Max with a large revolver.

  Max yanked the wheel hard to the left and threw the muscle car away from the white SUV and into the side of the black sportscar. Paint scraped and tires squealed as the vehicles crunched together.

  The gangster who’d been leaning through his window was now leaning inside Max’s car, right in front of the ex-cop. Max headbutted the man in the face and grabbed his revolver. When the gangster proved resistant, Max headbutted him again. Nerveless fingers released the gun as the man slumped over. Max swerved the car away. The gangster fell from his open window into the road. The pursuing cars instantly smooshed the suited gangster into meat paste.

  With his new revolver in hand, Max took aim through his window and shot the driver of the black sportscar in the head. The man’s brains exploded through his window as the car drifted lazily toward the wall of metal shipping containers.

  The white SUV lurched back and forth. Its driver encroached on Kate’s side, but Max swerved right, and it backed off. The gangsters inside tumbled around, resulting in an accidental discharge that splattered the rear window with blood.