Brink of Extinction | Book 2 | Stay Alive

by Shupert, Derek

  Anna pulled Shadow from Spider. The German shepherd remained on high alert, baring her fangs and hovering above him.

  Spider cradled his wounded arm, then pointed at the canine. “That’s the last time you’ll ever bite me. Apparently, the punishment you’ve been dealt in the past hasn’t—”

  Anna kicked Spider in the side of the face, knocking him out. “Shut up. You’re not going to touch her.”

  “I’m glad to see you showed up,” I said. “I thought perhaps you might’ve ditched me or something.”

  “No. Took me a few minutes to calm her down enough to head outside.” Anna craned her neck, peering at Cindy who crouched in front of her dead husband. “Who’s the lady and the guy tied to the chair?”

  “Again, not sure, but we need to bounce while we can,” I said. “I got the keys to the SUV in the drive.”

  Anna nodded at Cindy. “What about them?”

  Shadow moved past Anna, trotted toward the staircase, and looked to the second floor.

  Anna spun around with the Glock trained at the upstairs. “Is anyone else up there?”

  “Yeah. That’s why we need to leave,” I replied. I turned and faced Cindy and her husband, then extended my hand to her. “Come on. Come with us.”

  Cindy stayed glued to her husband.

  Shadow barked from the landing, growling and baring her teeth.

  “How many are up there?” Anna asked.

  “One as far as I know.” I walked past William and touched Cindy’s shoulder. “He’s gone and we need to go now.” Cindy stood with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Stocky stirred on the floor, moaning and moving his arm. I pushed Cindy behind me and covered our retreat to the doorway.

  “Move, now,” I said, forcing Cindy out the door and over Spider’s body. She nudged his arm, then stumbled over his motionless body.

  Anna patted the side of her thigh, moved down the hall toward the kitchen, then said, “Shadow. Come on.”

  The German shepherd refused to budge. Her focus was trained at the murk on the second floor.

  I stepped over Spider. My knee gave some, but didn’t buckle. I grabbed the edge of the door to keep me from falling over.

  Stocky pressed his hands to the dirty-wood floor, and pushed his thick, muscular frame up. He shook his head, sat on his knees, then leaned back.

  Anna rushed past me to Shadow who continued to bark at the darkness. “Come—”

  The second floor creaked.

  Blondie lurched around the blind corner of the corridor, favoring his injured foot. I trained the piece at him.

  “Get the dog and move,” I said, covering both the upstairs and the bottom floor room.

  Anna grabbed a handful of Shadow’s coat and tugged. The German shepherd snapped at Blondie and reared on her hind legs. The canine didn’t care for any of the men and I understood why.

  “Man. And I thought she disliked you,” Anna said.

  “Yeah. At least I didn’t abuse her,” I replied.

  Fire spat from the upstairs floor. The bullet split the gap between Anna and me, and punched the floor.

  I returned fire, squeezing the trigger three times.

  Anna rushed past me with Shadow at her side. They bolted down the hallway toward the kitchen.

  Stocky looked my way with a scowl on his face. I limped down the hallway as fast as I could.

  Blondie fired at the first floor. Multiple rounds punched the wood planks, missing me by mere inches.

  I plowed through the back door, ramming it with my shoulder and knocking it all the way open. Anna, Cindy, and Shadow vanished, but the canine’s barking signaled they were close.

  “Hurry it up, Lawson,” Anna shouted.

  The screen door flew open, hitting the side of the house. Heavy footfalls stalked me, closing in fast from the kitchen.

  I stumbled down the stairs, turned, and fired at the low light of the porch.

  The horn blared twice. Idle threats loomed from the men inside the kitchen.

  I dug my hand into the coat pocket and fished out the keys.

  The interior light of the SUV illuminated Cindy’s worried face from the front passenger seat. Anna sat in the back, behind the driver’s seat. She stood on the railing with her Glock trained in my direction.

  I limped past the brown truck.

  Anna fired. I flinched, then ducked my head. A single round zipped past me. Anna stepped inside the SUV.

  I moved past the open driver’s side door and climbed into the leather seat. I tossed the mask and pistol on top of the dash. My hands fumbled the keys, then slipped them into the ignition.

  The crackle of gunfire melded with the rumbling of thunder overhead. I twisted the key. The engine jumped to life. I pumped the gas, then slammed the door closed.

  The incoming rounds pelted the hood and windshield of the SUV. Cindy covered her head, then sunk into the passenger seat.

  “Move,” Anna said, returning fire from the open window of the back seat.

  I shifted the SUV into reverse and hit the gas. The tires dug into the earth. Orange flashed outside my window as we tore down the long, bumpy drive.

  I spun the steering wheel counterclockwise. The vehicle came about. I hit the brakes, shifted into drive, and pushed the gas pedal to the floor.

  The gunshots faded away. A single round hit the back window. We raced for the dimness of the woods, traversing the makeshift road.

  “Is everyone all right?” I asked, squinting out the windshield.

  Cindy sat up in the passenger seat, then glanced in the side-view mirror. She folded her arms across her chest, and nodded.

  Shadow groaned and sat on her haunches next to the back-passenger door.

  Anna rolled her window up, severing the rush of cool wind that blasted inside the cab of the SUV. She scooted toward the center of the bench seat, then leaned forward. “Yeah, we’re good back here. Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine.”

  We drove along the path that snaked through the trees. I checked the side-view mirror, then the rear view for the brown truck or any headlights.

  Anna looked at Cindy, then back to me. “What sort of mess have you gotten us into now?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SCARFACE

  Grizzly lay dead in the ash that gathered on his body. I wiped the blood from the dagger on a piece of his soot-covered shirt, then patted him down.

  Where is it?

  He had to have the coordinates on him for where Lawson and his friend crashed.

  I rifled through his trousers, and found the slip of paper stuffed in his side pocket.

  I patted his chest, stood, then pocketed the dagger and paper. A deep, burning cough overtook me. I struggled to breathe. The smell of sulfur wouldn’t go away. I plugged my nose and tilted my head forward, keeping the gray ash and wind away from my face.

  The headlights on the jeep flashed in the dim light. The engine grumbled to life. The interior light came on, illuminating Jackal through the heavy-gray snowfall.

  A sliver of Jackal’s body could be seen through the ash gathering on the windshield and passenger side window.

  I skirted past Grizzly and headed for the vehicle. Chunks of twisted steel lay on the ground around the plane. I took one last look at the wreckage, thankful to have survived the crash.

  I slipped through the deep furrow the aircraft carved out of the earth, past the gaping hole within the tail, and over to the other side.

  Jackal honked the horn, then pointed at the port side of the plane. His mouth moved and eyes bugged out, but I couldn’t tell what twisted his nerves.

  I threw my hands up confused. “What?”

  Jackal continued pointing at the jet, then threw open his door.

  I turned toward the wreckage, then shined the flashlight at the port side of the aircraft. The punishing wind blew ash into my face. I lifted my arm, blocking the onslaught of soot.

  A shadowy figure broke from the murk near the wing and
rushed headlong at me.

  I fell back on my heels, trying to remove the rifle from my shoulder. I dropped my travel bag to the ground as the flashlight washed over the black gas mask the man wore. The two large filters protruding from the sides of the mask made him look more menacing as he closed in.

  The strap attached to the rifle slipped down my arm, past the bend. He speared me in the gut, taking me hard to the dirt. He straddled my waist, then punched me in the face.

  Jackal flanked us, approaching with his piece trained in our direction as we wrestled on the ground.

  I struggled to see through the whirling ashfall. Fire spat near my head. I flinched, then balled my fingers into tight fists. I punched the man in the side of the head, just past the edge of the mask.

  His body rocked, but he didn’t fall. He punched me again, then fired at Jackal. I twisted and lifted my body under his bulk, then wrestled him off me. He hit the ground and rolled, then got to his feet. He fired while on the run, heading toward the port side of the jet.

  Jackal returned fire, popping off three rounds that pinged off the fuselage. He took a knee at my side while sweeping the area. “You good?”

  “Yeah. Guess that was the other guy they talked about inside the jet.” Gray ash pelted my face and invaded my eyes, causing them to sting and burn hot. They watered from the contact.

  My fingers rubbed and clawed at each socket to clear away the ash. I looked at the plane through blurred vision, then clamped my lids shut.

  Jackal patted me on the shoulder. “Let’s finish this guy and get the hell out of here.” He stood, grabbed my hand, then pulled me from the blanket of ash.

  My jaw throbbed and my midsection ached from the punishing blows. I shook my head, tilted it forward, then opened my eyes.

  Christ.

  The glassy tint waned, giving me a somewhat clearer picture of the wreckage and my surroundings.

  The rifle and flashlight sat in the dirt at my feet, ash covering both. I bent down and pulled them from the dirt. I thumbed the flashlight off, then secured it in the pocket of the coat. I reached under the barrel and switched on the mounted light.

  The masked man had vanished.

  Jackal shone his flashlight at the aircraft. “He must’ve slipped through that opening in the plane,” Jackal said, training the beam at the large fissure in the fuselage. “I say we each take a side and box him in. Do you want the port or starboard side?”

  “Doesn’t matter to me. Let’s just kill this guy and get back to business,” I answered.

  “Roger that.” Jackal took a step forward.

  I grabbed the sleeve of his coat. He stopped, then looked at me.

  “Watch yourself. This guy isn’t like the other two,” I said. “He can actually fight, like he’s had some sort of training.”

  “Not anything we can’t handle,” Jackal shot back. His one arm carrying the flashlight bent at a ninety-degree angle with the other draped over the top. He moved past me and around the tail end of the plane.

  I moved toward the wreckage, head tilted forward to keep the ash from pelting my face. The top of the hood hung just below my brow. I swept what remained of the busted wing and around the opening of the aircraft.

  The gun-mounted light illuminated the ashfall whipping about in the air in front of me as I closed in.

  Jackal’s light shone through the windows on the port side of the jet as I neared the tear just above the wing.

  A muffled report sounded, followed by a flash of white from the cabin of the jet.

  Jackal’s light vanished. Two more rounds popped off from the starboard side.

  The gun-mounted light sliced through the darkness, capturing a glimpse of a gas mask as the man brushed past the fissure.

  He fired at the opening. The two rounds blew past me, and I took cover, my shoulder hugging the steel between the two windows.

  He fired again, punching through the glass in front of me. The gunfire ceased for a moment.

  I moved toward the fissure with the rifle shouldered. My finger rested on the kill switch. The gun-mounted light caught a glimpse of his black jacket heading for the cockpit.

  I squeezed the trigger, firing at his back. A dense thud hit the floor.

  Jackal advanced through the opening on the starboard side.

  I stepped up on the wing and threaded my frame through the mangled steel in the fuselage.

  “You all right?” I asked, shouldering the rifle and training the light at the floor.

  Jackal nodded. “Yeah. He clipped my shoulder, but I’ll be fine.”

  Gas Mask writhed on the floor on his side. He tried to move, but struggled to get away. He rolled to his back, lifted his piece in the air, and trained it at us.

  Jackal placed two rounds, one center mass and one in the middle of his forehead, just above the thick rubber seal of the mask he wore. “That should take care of that.”

  “Hopefully that’s all of them,” I replied.

  “Let’s roll out before any more surprises pop up.”

  We left through the starboard side of the jet and double-timed it back to our ride, not wanting to wait around in case anyone else showed up. I grabbed my travel bag on the way and made for the vehicle.

  Jackal ran around the front end of the jeep to the driver’s side and slipped through the open door. He revved the engine, feeding the off-road vehicle copious amounts of octane.

  The jeep idled rough, acting as though the dense air had a strangle hold on the engine. It grumbled and sputtered.

  I opened the passenger door, crammed my travel bag and rifle in on the floorboard, then climbed onto the leather bucket seat. I yanked the hood of the coat back, then shook my head.

  Ash fluttered inside the jeep, gathering on my pants. The soot that burned my eyes waned, lessening the discomfort.

  My upper lip felt wet. I wrenched the visor down and peered into the small-rectangular mirror. A thin trail of blood ran from both nostrils down past my lip. I ran the back of my hand across my mouth, wiping it away.

  Tepid air blasted from the vents on the dash. I thumbed the heater off, severing the flow of the pungent air from the vehicle’s vents.

  “Why did you do that?” Jackal asked, pointing at the temperature controls on the dash.

  “All we’re doing is pumping that crap from outside inside the vehicle,” I replied, clearing my throat. I brushed my hand over my thigh, wiping the blood on the top of on my trousers. “I’m already having a hard time breathing. Feels like someone’s standing on my chest. The burning in my eyes isn’t as bad now, but it still stings a bit.”

  Jackal nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t think about that. My nose hurts some and my eyes are watering. They sting like when you get smoke in them or something’s stuck in there.”

  He dug his fingers into both sockets, blinked, then looked over at me. Thin-red lines snaked around his eyes.

  “Can you see well enough?” I asked, looking at him through a slight haze. “Not sure my eyesight is any better, but if I need to drive, I will.”

  “Yeah. It should clear out soon,” Jackal answered, blinking again, then opening his eyes wide. “Besides, we need to get on the move. This jeep isn’t sounding so hot. Can’t tell if it’s because of the soot outside choking the engine or if it’s just in bad shape. I’d like to avoid walking if at all possible.” He switched on the windshield wipers, knocking the gathering gray ash from the window.

  Flashes of white slithered through the dark, eerie clouds, followed by more thunderous rumbles that shook the ground.

  “Have you ever seen a storm like that before?” Jackal asked, leaning toward the steering wheel and glancing up at the sky.

  “I’ve seen storms, but nothing with ash falling,” I answered. “Not sure what’s going on.”

  “Whatever happened, it doesn’t look good.” Jackal sat back in his leather bucket seat, then palmed the gear shift on the center console that separated us.

  I squinted, then peered out of the passenger sid
e window, looking for any sort of land mark, building, or anything else to hint at where we had crash landed. “Do you see anything out there? I’ve got nothing. No buildings or homes. I think I see some mountain ranges out there. Can’t tell for sure, though.”

  Jackal peered through the windshield, then the driver’s side window. He pulled the shifter back into reverse and punched the gas. He spun the steering wheel clockwise.

  The headlights washed over a barren wasteland filled with splotches of plants and dirt for as far as we could see.

  “From what I can see, it looks a lot like Nevada,” Jackal answered. “It would make sense being that we had only been in the air for a short time before the plane went down.”

  I pointed at the wreckage. “I wonder how those two found us? There must be a road, path, or some sort of tracks left from those big off road terrain tires.”

  The gathering ash on the ground made it hard to tell where a path would be. We had been out most of the night it seemed and the gathering ash blanketed much of the area.

  Jackal looked around. “I say we just start driving until we hit a road or something. There has to be one close by unless they were just out roaming the badlands here just for the hell of it when they spotted us.”

  I leaned toward him, staring at the fuel gauge that the steering wheel concealed. “How much fuel do we have to work with?”

  Jackal pecked at the round gauge with the tip of his finger. “Pretty much a full tank. Should be enough to last us a while.”

  “All right. Just drive and maybe we’ll hit a road soon.”

  Jackal spun the steering wheel counterclockwise and drove away from the plane, heading in the direction he thought best.

  The oversized tires rolled over the uneven ground and any small plants that challenged the vehicle. He took it slow over the rough terrain, working the gas and brake in tandem as we pulled away from the downed aircraft. Both hands held the steering wheel at ten and two as he maneuvered past any large rocks or other obstacles.

  I unzipped the coat, allowing my body to release the trapped heat. I popped open the glove box in search of a map, but found nothing more than a few loose papers with no indicators as to where we’d landed, and empty cigarette packages.