Into the Dark of the Day (Action of Purpose, 2)

by Stu Jones

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” Dagen shouted, as he threw down the rifle and cranked the Jeep. The tires spun beneath him as the Jeep took off, descending at full speed down the steep hillside. The bandits began to crawl out from beneath the flipped truck, attempting to get their bearings. In seconds, they were onto Dagen, firing their weapons, the windshield of the Jeep popping and cracking as the rounds struck it. Dagen ducked his head and made straight for a few stragglers who’d been tossed from the vehicle, hammering them into the dirt and across the hood of the Jeep as he came. As their fire intensified, Dagen leaned down and yanked the emergency brake, simultaneously cutting the wheel and grabbing the sub gun in his lap as the Jeep began to spin. As the Jeep spun toward them, the goons all fumbled with fresh magazines, unable to engage.

  Dagen was ready. He snarled as he hung out the door against the seatbelt and launched a steady stream of lead into his intended targets. He tracked the men with an arc of bursts from the MP5, expending every last round as the vehicle spun to a stop with its rear to the truck. A new barrage of fire hit the tailgate of the Jeep as the few remaining men reloaded and began to tear the Jeep apart. The fabric of the seats burst open, and something exploded under the rear axle as the bullets pinged and clanged off every bit of metal that surrounded him.

  Releasing the empty magazine from the submachine gun, Dagen pulled the spare from his vest and slapped it in, charging the weapon. Crawling as fast as he could, he pulled himself over the console and made for the passenger door. The men hadn’t yet figured out that Dagen couldn’t walk. The instant they did, they would surround him and he’d be finished. He had to end this now. Popping from the passenger side, he fired several more rounds, taking down more thugs with vital hits to the head and chest. Taking cover back inside the vehicle, he went to change magazines a third time when he heard the last bandit call out to him.

  “I know you’re here for my girl! Throw the gun to the rear of the vehicle, and I might not blow her brains out.”

  Dagen knew the man was lying and had no intention of sparing either of them. He and his crew, shamed by Dagen’s attack on them, now had nothing to lose. Malak would slaughter them when he found out.

  Dagen chanced a peek out the passenger door and saw a skinny man pushing the barrel of a 1911-style handgun into Jenna’s neck. Dagen noticed a jagged, bloody hole in the man’s right shoulder and noted the way he held the handgun loose in his left. He was right-handed, but he no longer had any use of his right arm. This was the driver. Jenna gave a whimper, and her knees shook upon seeing Dagen’s head poke out.

  “Throw the weapon out now!” Raith yelled.

  “All right. The gun is coming out. Don’t do anything stupid,” Dagen said, as he cleared the sub gun and heaved it over the roll bars onto the dirt. “I’m going to step out now, but I can’t hold my hands up because I’m crippled.”

  “Let’s see it,” Raith said.

  Dagen grabbed his legs, and they tingled with a strange sensation as he pulled them out of the door and let them fall to the ground.

  “Ah, it’s Mister no legs,” Raith said.

  “Do I know you?” Dagen asked.

  “No, of course not. But I know you. I’d hoped we might meet, just not quite like this.” The rat-faced man scowled and looked down at his ruined right shoulder. “That was an expert shot, I must say.”

  Dagen stood silent, staring holes in the skinny man that held Jenna at gunpoint.

  “You must care about her.”

  “I owe her my life. That’s why I’m here. Release her to me.” Dagen said.

  “I don’t think so,” Raith said. “I’ve been watching my lovely here for quite a while. You’re not going to steal her from me now.”

  The tingling continued down Dagen’s legs. A prickling sensation that stretched across the soles of his feet, as though his legs were falling asleep, except instead of losing feeling, they were gaining it.

  “She doesn’t belong to you,” Dagen said. “She never did. Release her.”

  “Or what?” The villain smiled, flashing his yellowed teeth. “The legless man will fight me for her?”

  “If I have to.”

  “How noble of you, but that’s ridiculous. I won’t stoop to fighting a man who can’t stand on his own, and I don’t want to be tardy for our little date,” Raith said, nudging Jenna forward with the barrel of the pistol. “You don’t mind if we use your Jeep, do you?”

  “If I did, there’s not much I could do to stop you.” Dagen lowered his head.

  “Now you’re speaking my language,” Raith said, as he moved with Jenna toward the vehicle.

  Dagen felt strength building in his legs. Though he still held onto the frame of the vehicle, he knew he could support himself on his own, even if only for a few moments.

  “Naturally,” Raith continued as he approached, “I can’t have you coming after us again, which means you have to die.” Raith swung his gun on Dagen.

  Catching them both off guard, Jenna kicked back hard with the heel of her shoe and struck Raith in the center of his shin. She turned and began to flee with her arms still pinned behind her. The gun fired as Raith jerked the trigger, and Dagen ducked to avoid the wild round as it pinged off the sidewall of the Jeep. Raith pivoted, pointing the gun at Jenna as she ran, the slide rocking with a crack as he fired with his unsupported weak hand. Her arms still bound behind her, she dove to the ground behind a small dune as the rounds struck the sand around her.

  Dagen shoved himself from the vehicle with a groan, his face twisted with fury as he snarled, willing his legs forward. Crossing the gap of five yards between them, he launched himself at Raith, his previously useless legs moving with clumsy strides beneath him. With a cry, Dagen crashed into Raith, forcing the goon’s gun hand outward, where the handgun struck the roll-bar support with a clang and fell into the Jeep as both men crashed against the dusty ground.

  Jenna screamed Dagen’s name as Raith came up fast, wielding a hidden blade. Twisting, Dagen parried the blade away and came across the skinny’s man’s face with his elbow, followed by a crushing headbutt. The combination split the flesh of Raith’s lips against his rat-like teeth.

  “I thought you couldn’t walk!” Raith screamed through clenched teeth.

  “Guess I’m full of surprises!” Dagen spat back, as they rolled and wrestled across the ground. Dagen felt the knife cut through his jacket, slashing him, once and then a second time across the shoulder and outer arm. Lashing out, Dagen punched hard the side of Raith’s neck hard and saw the thin man’s eyes flare with pain.

  Hissing, Raith came again with the blade as Dagen rolled toward the Jeep and felt his legs come alive with one final surge of strength. Drawing his legs in as he lay on his back, Dagen pushed his legs up as Raith came down and the blade buried itself deep in the thick rubber sole of his boot. Lashing out with all his strength and coordination, Dagen thrust his other boot up and caught Raith under the chin with his heel, knocking the man back.

  Dagen wasted no time. He rolled to his belly and scrambled for the Jeep. He had to secure the handgun. He wasn’t sure how many rounds Raith had fired, but knowing that the average 1911 magazine held six to eight, he knew there wouldn’t be many left. He had no other option. It was his only card left to play.

  Pushing with his legs as they seethed with pain, Dagen pulled himself up using the tailgate and swung the door open as Raith approached with his knife raised. Holding onto the frame for support, Dagen drew his right leg up and stomped down on Raith’s pelvic bowl, knocking him back, the man sinking the knife deep into the muscle of Dagen’s thigh as he fell. Screaming, blood streaming from the puncture wound, Dagen swept his arms through the junk in the car as Raith pushed himself up from the ground.

  Dagen felt his legs give way as he fell and tried to slow his decent by gripping the frame. As he hung there, his free hand touched the gun. Pulling it to him, he could already see the weapon was jammed, a misfed round causing the weapon to malfunction
. Raith stood, wiped his face, secured his grip on the bloodied knife, and approached again.

  “What are you gonna do now, soldier boy?” Raith whispered, noting the jammed weapon as he closed the distance.

  Dagen pressed the rear sight of the gun down against the metal bumper. He drove his arm down, ejecting the jammed round with one hand as the magazine fed the last good round into the chamber with a snap.

  “It’s called a malfunction drill, asshole.”

  Raith charged as Dagen came up fast with the 1911 and saw the confidence fade from the villain’s face. With perfect accuracy, Dagen fired a single round through Raith’s eye socket, causing the thin man to flinch midstep, his mouth hinged open in a failed scream, as his brains scattered across the sidewall of the overturned truck behind him.

  Dagen let go of the frame and dropped to the ground, his legs screaming, his body trembling. Leaning against the Jeep, he pulled off his jacket and tied it tightly around his wounded leg. He gave Raith’s crumpled form one last look.

  Jenna struggled to her feet and was now taking shaky steps forward, her hands still bound behind her back. She stared at Dagen, a man who just succeeded at the impossible.

  “Dagen! They murdered the children. I couldn’t stop them,” she sputtered, dropping to her knees next to him and weeping tears of sadness and relief.

  “I know. I know they did,” Dagen said, wrapping his arms tightly around the woman he loved. He leaned back against the bullet-riddled vehicle. “I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.”

  “How did you…? You risked yourself…” She cried, as she tucked her face against his chest. He reached behind her to cut her bound wrists free. “I saw you run,” Jenna continued. “I saw you tackle him.”

  “I don’t know, Jenna. I can’t explain it. I asked God to help me, and then I came for you. That’s all I know,” he said, holding her tightly against him.

  “You don’t believe in God.”

  “I don’t know what I believe. But if you say God won’t abandon a bum like me, then why would he ever abandon you—his messenger of love and hope? You’ve got to be more precious to Him than all the stars in the midnight sky,” Dagen said, closing his eyes as Jenna wept, cradled against him in the comfort of their shared embrace. “I think He sent me so you’d remember that.”

  THIRTY

  “Susan!” Kane screamed at the top of his lungs as he stumbled forward through the muck and downpour. The rain was subsiding. A fine veil of mist seemed to drown the landscape in an inescapable fog.

  “Susan, where are you?” Kane cried out.

  “Kane!” came the sobbing cry of his wife’s voice. “Kane, help us!”

  The words were lifted straight from one of Kane’s nightmares. He stumbled onward, maneuvering through the burnt gypsy camp. Out of breath, an overwhelming fear covered him as he arrived at the far edge of the camp.

  There before him stood a mass of bandits, all with their rifles trained on him. A shiver coursed through Kane. He knew he’d be shot to pieces the moment he tried to raise his weapon. He tried to compose himself, as he peered through the curtain of mist that separated him from the barbaric men before him. Eyeing each figure carefully, Kane’s eyes rested on a female form huddled with his children. Kane choked on a breath as he tried to form the words to call to them.

  “Suz—” he managed, taking one step forward.

  “That’s close enough. Do anything stupid, and we’ll turn your family into hamburger meat.” A voice called out from the crowd.

  Kane stopped and surveyed the group again as he struggled to master the intensity of his emotions. Multiple gunmen stood behind his family, their weapons pushed against his wife’s flesh as she embraced their terrified children.

  He fought back a wave of unbridled fear as he clenched his jaw and swallowed with difficulty. “I don’t know who you are or what your game is, but your leader, Garrett, is dead. Release my family, and I won’t kill all of you.”

  The men laughed, as a blue-faced bandit stepped forward and crossed his arms. “Garrett doesn’t lead us. You did us a favor by killing him. He was a puppet, just like you, dancing to our little tune.”

  “Sure thing, guy,” Kane said, shaking his head. “If you people are so organized, if you’re pulling everyone’s strings, then who’s the puppet master?”

  “I am,” came a menacing growl. The crowd parted, and the hulking form of Malak stepped forward.

  Kane stood in shock, his face filling with terror as he recognized the monstrous, bald figure with the coiled viper tattoo in the center of his chest. There was no underestimating the imminent danger his family faced at the hands of these madmen.

  “Look! It’s a family reunion!” Malak mocked, clapping his hands together. “This is just perfect. Kane and his lovely wife and children separated by one terrible day. Now, after believing the other to be dead for so long, they see each other for the first time!”

  Kane ground his teeth and made eye contact with Susan. The defeated look in her eyes killed him inside. The group stood at attention as though Malak were leading story time.

  “Oh, but then the reality of life begins to set in,” Malak continued with a dramatic flair. “Kane realizes the horrors that his innocent children have been exposed to. How his wife gave herself to another man, long before the memory of her husband had grown cold.”

  Susan winced and bowed her head as a blush of shame spread across her face. Kane swallowed and stared at her, but she wouldn’t return his gaze.

  “Oh, yes. It’s true—the man Garrett, whom you murdered. Maybe you can take some small measure of satisfaction knowing your wife’s lover died by your hand.”

  Susan still refused to look up. Kane caught the pleading eyes of his children and tried to look confident. He was so damn thirsty.

  “And you, Kane. How much time did you waste hanging around that fucking station? Time you could have used to find and save your family. They were right under your nose. You could have kept all of this from happening, but you didn’t. You were probably shacked up with some whore. Or maybe it was that little blonde tart I ran through. She didn’t make it, did she?”

  “You don’t know anything about me!” Kane spat.

  “Oh. I touched a nerve there. I think you had a thing for that blonde. Who are you to blame your wife for not keeping her legs together?”

  “Enough! What the hell do you want, Malak?” Kane shouted.

  “I want you to know this was all part of the plan. I used those freaks. I used your divisiveness. I even used your own personal weakness to ruin you. This is the bed you’ve made for yourself by fucking with someone—something—you can’t possibly understand.”

  Kane glared at the hulking villain. “We killed you.”

  “No, apparently not. But maybe you’d like to give it another shot. This time we’ll see what’s what when you don’t have that loyal black dog of yours getting in the way—that is, if you do still call yourself God’s warrior.”

  “Malak, just let them—”

  “Enough of this bargaining shit.” Malak waved his hand in an impatient gesture. “I hold all the chips. You have nothing to bargain with. Your family is now my family to do with as I please—and there’s nothing you can do about it. Unless, as I said, you’d like to fight me for them.”

  “What am I going to do against all of you? Like you said, you have every advantage. The minute I start to win, my family and I will be gunned down. You’re not the kind of men who keep your word.”

  “No?” Malak smiled and looked around. “I will say this now. If Kane will fight me in single combat, none of you may harm him or his family. And if he should defeat me, you’ll release his family and allow them all to leave. Am I understood?”

  The bandits lowered their weapons as a wave of acknowledgment passed through them. This wasn’t Malak being fair; it was a very bad sign. He didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell fighting Malak one on one.

  Reading Kane’s expression, Malak steppe
d forward. “How about this? I’ll let you keep your firearms. I’ll remain unarmed.”

  A feeling of newfound confidence swelled in Kane. He knew it was more than foolish. Still, he performed a quick function check of the M4. Maybe he did have a chance.

  Malak smiled. “This is going to be slow and painful for you, and I’m going to enjoy every second.”

  “Just do what you came here to do, you son of a bitch.”

  Silence fell over the group as the bandits took shelter. A few of them pulled Susan and the children behind a pair of old vehicles. Malak flashed an evil grin as the dark of his eyes filled with a black fury.

  “Well?” Malak growled.

  You can do this, Kane. Don’t fail them now.

  Kane raised his rifle as Malak came forward and swung his arms open, the air shifting around him. Kane pulled the trigger, and the assault rifle roared to life. Malak raged, crossing the space between them in an instant. In a moment of sheer dismay, Kane watched as each round veered away from Malak, skirting their target as if they were in the pull of oppositely charged magnets. Kane continued to fire on the monstrous man as the bullets zipped past, refusing to connect.

  “Come on!” Kane shouted.

  Then, Malak was upon him, snatching him from the ground like a child’s plaything. Kane struck the big man’s iron jaw with the butt of his rifle, shattering the plastic retractable stock. Malak smiled malevolently and flung Kane through the air. The ground soared beneath him as the empty rifle fell from his hands. His arm hit first, folding under him as he slid across the tarlike mud. He began to raise himself, but Malak was already there. Kane felt weak, underpowered, and alone, as the brute lifted him into the air again, drawing him face-to-face.

  “Is that it? You disgust—”