CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SCARFACE
Jackal rubbed his chin and sighed. He slammed his fist against the side of the door.
“I’m telling you right now, I can’t wait to kill this guy. Lawson’s becoming a major thorn in both our sides.” Jackal ran his hand over his face. We drove down the highway in the direction of Salt Lake City, having left the plane wreckage where we’d discovered a single body buried under the ash. “I’m telling you, for all of the shit we’ve gone through, Mr. Coleman should be doubling, even tripling the pay out on this job.”
I raised my hand. “I get it, but that’s not going to happen. You know that. So just calm down and focus. Losing your shit now is not going to help matters.”
Jackal cut his eyes to me. He didn’t like to be told to calm down. It was a trigger that only increased his frustration. “Whatever. How much farther is it anyway? Banking that our mark is still alive, he has a good-sized lead on us right now.”
“We’re not too far away from the McCones,” I replied, pointing out of the windshield to the skyline of Salt Lake City. “Barring any heavy traffic, it shouldn’t be much longer.”
We maneuvered our way past what few stalled cars blocked our way in the road and down into the city. The SUV grumbled. A pinging noise loomed from the engine. It grew louder the longer we drove, but it didn’t matter.
“How long has it been since we’ve had any contact with McCone?” Jackal asked, touching his swollen lip.
“It’s been a couple years, I think. Maybe more,” I answered, cruising down the city streets that had a few cars on the roads. “We at least have a good rapport with him. We’ve done good work for him, so I think he’ll give us a hand and offer up any insight he can.”
“Let’s hope so,” Jackal shot back, not sounding as convinced.
We turned, drove past the handful of cars parked next to the curb, then pulled into the rear entrance to McCone’s building.
Dead bodies lying in the circular drive caught my eye. I slammed the brakes at the top of the brick driveway, bringing us to a screeching halt. We studied the eerie scene for a moment with the vehicle idling.
“That doesn’t look good,” Jackal said. “What do you want to do?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Let’s go inside and see what we find.”
I killed the engine and removed the keys. The headlights faded away. We grabbed pistols and got out of the vehicle.
Jackal took point and advanced down the sloped driveway. I followed behind, sweeping the east side of the courtyard.
He approached a corpse lying flat on his back. “It’s McCone’s man.”
I glanced at the dead man and continued past the SUV, toward the open door of the building. More bodies lay about on the pavement. A mixture of McCone’s men and other’s who I didn’t recognize.
“Looks like they got hit by a rival gang, maybe?” I asked, studying a Hispanic man’s bloody face.
A light shone from behind me and pointed at the dark entrance. Jackal walked past the corpse with a rifle shouldered. I grabbed one the flashlights from the bodies and followed him inside.
We moved down the corridor, past the dead bodies in the storage room, and around the bend. We stepped over copious amounts of spent casings that carpeted the ground.
“Looks like a war zone here,” Jackal said, guiding us through the familiar corridor.
“Let’s check McCone’s office. It’s like a damn fortress. That’s where he would’ve gone,” I said, turning and checking behind me.
Jackal trained his light at the opened door and the body slumped over in it. We stepped around the dead man’s legs and continued on.
“Who would’ve been ballsy enough to take McCone on?” Jackal asked, moving down the hallway toward the open doorway ahead of us.
“I can think of only one crew who has had a beef with McCone and has the stones to do this,” I answered.
“Sanchez Domingo?” Jackal said.
“Yep, though, I am a bit surprised that he hit them here. He must’ve caught them off guard or something,” I replied.
Jackal shined his light over a stocky dead man, and stopped. “They got Sunny.”
I studied the multiple bullet holes in Sunny’s chest, then looked at his pale face. The gleam from my flashlight reflected off his opened eyes. A trace amount of blood stained his upper lip. I didn’t much care for the man.
“Come on. Let’s keep moving.” I said, walking away.
We passed through the double doors, and made our way through the silent hallways.
Jackal skirted the blind corner. He stopped on a dime, then held up his arm. He pushed me back around the bend.
“We’ve got company down the hall,” he said in a whisper. “Three targets, I think.”
We traded spots. I thumbed the button on the flashlight, then peeked out into the hallway. Beams of light moved in the darkness at the far end of the wide hallway, near the passage that led to McCone’s office.
Shadowy figures talked loudly, their voices carrying with ease. They spoke Spanish from what I heard.
“It’s Domingo’s men, I think.” I glanced over my shoulder. “I’m counting three as well.”
“You think they got McCone?” Jackal asked.
“Not sure. I’d like to find out, though.”
The men moved on, vanishing beyond the wall. Their lights grew dim, then faded away.
“Keep your head on a swivel in case there are any more lurking around,” I said.
We moved down the hallway and past the bloody bodies on the floor. I craned my neck and looked toward the front entrance for Domingo’s men, but didn’t see them within the low light.
I toed the edge of the wall next to the passage. Darkness loomed with no signs of movement or light. I peered around the corner, and spotted a flash of light.
“Someone’s down there. Let’s go.” We funneled down the enclosed walkway, picking up more chatter and lights. Jackal flanked me as we closed in.
We killed the lights and crept through the darkness, stalking the two men. They stood near the entrance to McCone’s office, arguing in Spanish and pointing at some bags on the floor.
The light generated from the flashlights illuminated the chairs and other furniture that sat against the walls.
Jackal stooped at my side as the two men continued their heated argument. They turned and faced McCone’s office, giving us their backs.
I touched Jackal’s arm, then pointed at them. He nodded, then slung the rifle over his shoulder. I secured the piece in my waistband, then grabbed my dagger.
We moved as one across the carpet, stalking our prey. The padding silenced our footfalls, concealing our presence.
Jackal grabbed the shorter, pudgy man in front of him and snapped his neck. The flashlight dropped from his hand and pointed to the open doorway leading into the office.
I stabbed the other in his lower back, covered his mouth, then jabbed the blade in the side of his neck. He squirmed in my embrace for a second before going limp.
We cradled both men and laid them down on the floor. Two quick kills that drew no attention and made little noise.
Jackal checked the passage while I ventured inside McCone’s office. The space had been tossed, shelves emptied of books and any valuables. The floor laid covered with busted glass and stuffing from the damaged couch and chairs.
I moved around the outside of McCone’s large oak desk, spotting his body on the floor. He laid on his back, barely breathing and looking like death warmed over. I stepped over his legs and took a knee beside him.
McCone shifted his shiny eyes to me. He’d sustained multiple gunshots—one in his shoulder, two in his gut. The light-gray suit he had on was painted red. Blood ran from the sides of his mouth.
“What happened here?” I asked, staring at him.
He spoke, but I couldn’t understand him. His tone was weak, muttered. I leaned toward him and trained my ear at his bloody mouth. He told me about
Lawson and the girl and Domingo’s men hitting his place.
“Well?” Jackal asked, standing at the corner of the desk, watching the entrance to the office. “What did he say?”
I sat up, then stood. I gave one last look at McCone, then glanced over at Jackal. “Lawson and the girl were here earlier.”
“How did they end up here?” Jackal asked, raising his brow in bewilderment.
I shrugged, then stepped over McCone’s legs. “Not sure, but it doesn’t really matter.”
“Where to now?” Jackal asked, incensed. “He could be heading anywhere.”
I patted the pocket of my trousers, touching Lawson’s black book. “We’ve still got his black book. We’ll find him, one way or another.
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About the Author
Derek Shupert is an emerging Science Fiction Author known for his captivating dystopian storylines and post-apocalyptic-laden plots. With various books and anthologies underway, he is also the author of the Dead State Series.
During his free time, Derek enjoys reading, exercising, and watching apocalyptic movies and TV shows like Mad Max and The Walking Dead. Above all, he is a family man who cherishes nothing more than quality time spent with his loved ones.
To find out more about Derek Shupert and his forthcoming publications, visit his official website at www.derekshupert.com.
Brink of Extinction | Book 2 | Stay Alive Page 24