by Bruno Miller
Maybe whoever was doing this to them had given up looking and was now waiting at a roadblock ahead. If that was the case, it would make things simple. He wouldn’t have to worry about the kids or the truck.
Of course, he’d have no way of knowing how many they were up against, but all that really mattered was getting across that bridge. It wasn’t his responsibility to make it safe for any other travelers that might come after them.
If he was ever going to see Bradley and Emma again, he had to be selfish. At least that’s what he told himself. Too bad his conscience wasn’t buying it.
Chapter Four
Ben could see open sky past the trees a few hundred yards ahead. He slowed to a brisk walk while he got his bearings.
On the map, Route 67 cut across the peninsula in a broad arc that curved right. He had been following the curve of the road for a while now, and he must have been close to where the bridge started. The map also showed a thin strip of land that ran under the bridge for a bit before stopping at the river. But he would see for himself soon enough.
He slowly picked his way through the last several feet of underbrush until the bridge came into view. He crouched alongside a large tree at the edge of the clearing. Once positioned, he slid off the strap of the rifle sling and brought it around to his shoulder. He flipped the lens covers up and surveyed the bridge through the 10 × 42 scope.
It was much larger than the first bridge they crossed last night but still had only two lanes on each side. The concrete median that separated the east- and westbound traffic was much wider. In the middle of the bridge were two concrete pillars that must have been 100 feet tall. Long, round steel supports ran from the top of the columns and down the bridge, forming two giant inverted steel cones. It was impressive to say the least, but all Ben was interested in was looking for blockages.
He turned the ring on the scope up to 10, taking full advantage of the magnification it offered. He scanned the bridge, starting from the far side and looking for any roadblocks, accidental or otherwise. Unable to believe his eyes, he had to scan the bridge again from one end to the other.
It was clear, at least what he could see of it from here. This should have given him some measure of relief but it didn’t. It was too good to be true, and he knew it. Outside of a busy town the size of Alton, there should have been at least a car or two on the bridge.
A few hundred yards of dense woods remained between Ben and the start of the bridge. The four-lane bridge ran into the tree line he was using for cover. The woods prevented him from seeing exactly where the highway funneled onto the bridge. He was going to have to get closer to inspect the rest of it.
He closed up the scope and slung the rifle over his shoulder. He was careful to hike through the woods much more slowly now as he approached the edge of the road. Taking his time to go around vegetation and dry leaves when he would rather go through them, he was trying to make as little noise as possible.
As he got closer he started to make out the shapes of vehicles on the road at the beginning of the bridge. He crept to a nearby tree and took a knee. With a hand on the tree, he used his arm for a gun rest and looked through the scope at the massive mountain of mangled cars and trucks that walled off the entrance to the bridge.
They were piled two or three vehicles high and as many as two or three deep in some parts of the makeshift roadblock. No one was coming or going over this bridge. Clearly, this was meant to isolate this side from Alton on a permanent basis for whatever reason.
Whoever had done this must have had access to some large equipment, like what Ben had seen back at the quarry they passed yesterday.
Ben’s mind began to work as he started to piece together what little information he had. Immediately, he wondered if there was some connection there. But more importantly, how were they going to get around this?
They would have to go north to get to the next bridge across the Mississippi, and he knew that was realistically a day’s travel away. There was no guarantee the next bridge would be open, either. All these river crossings would be choke points where people could be funneled through and exploited by those who chose to do so.
Just like this one.
At the sound of a vehicle coming down the road, Ben instinctively dropped to the prone position. He pulled the rifle in close to his body as he scooted alongside an old log and watched.
A blue Ford Bronco drove by. Its big mud tires whirred as they rolled over the pavement at high speed. It looked like there was only a driver in the truck.
He got within 20 yards of the roadblock and stopped in the center of the road. The driver shut the engine off and got out. The man wore a red ball cap and carried some type of hunting rifle as he walked to the edge of the highway and stood there like he was waiting on someone.
A brown Chevy pickup emerged from the opposite side of the woods and drove onto the shoulder, where the man was waiting. The Chevy parked and two men got out and walked to the man in the ball cap. They both carried guns as well. The passenger had a shotgun and the driver had a large-caliber pistol that he stuffed into his belt behind his back as he approached the other guy.
“Any luck?” the man with the shotgun asked.
“Nothing,” the man in the ball cap replied. “But I’ll tell you this: they said not to come back to the quarry until we found them.”
Ben strained to hear what the men were talking about.
“Man, that’s bull! We’ve been out here all night. It’s not like they’re going anywhere!” The driver of the pickup threw his hands in the air as he turned to look at the pile of cars blocking the bridge.
“I’m just tellin’ ya what they said to me on the radio. Talk to ’em yourself if you want.” The man in the ball cap offered him what looked like a handheld radio.
“Forget it. They don’t care about us.” The pickup driver waved him off and pulled out a pack of cigarettes instead. He lit one up as he leaned against the hood of the truck.
“They oughta turn up soon. It’s still early,” the man with the shotgun said.
“Well, I guess I’m gonna check downriver a little ways from the other bridge again. That’s the last place we saw them last night. They gotta be around there somewhere. Maybe I’ll go all the way down to that old trail this time. Why don’t one of you come with me?” the man in the red ball cap asked.
The man with the shotgun stepped forward immediately. “I’ll go.”
“Oh, come on, man!” The guy smoking stood up straight. “I always get stuck here while you guys have all the fun,” he hollered.
“Somebody’s gotta stay here in case they come this way. Besides, you’re a lousy shot.” The man in the ball cap pulled out a can of dip. “I had to finish the last guy off for you.”
A chill ran through Ben’s veins when he heard that, and he immediately understood what type of lowlifes he was dealing with.
“You try shooting at a moving car and do better.” The man took a long draw off the cigarette, then threw it on the ground before heading around to the back of the pickup. He reached into the truck bed, pulled out a beer, and cracked it open. “Just go find them so we can go back. I’m starvin’ out here,” he whined before taking a long drink from the can.
“All right then.” The Bronco driver loaded his lip. “Stay alert and quit screwin’ around.” He spat on the ground before heading for his truck.
The man with the shotgun scurried around to the other side and jumped in. They turned around while the other guy stayed by his truck and leaned over the bed as he drank his beer.
The driver leaned out his window and said something before they drove off, but Ben couldn’t hear him over the truck’s exhaust.
At least he knew how many people they were dealing with. He felt it was safe to assume it was just the three of them at this point, although by the sounds of it, there were more members of the group back at the quarry.
He could worry about the others later. Right now, he had to deal with these three—and quic
kly.
Two of them were headed straight for Joel and Allie.
Chapter Five
It all made sense to Ben now. From the quarry, they could see any travelers headed east as they passed by. Then they could swoop in behind them, closing off the first bridge and any chance of escape.
By the time the unsuspecting victims realized the second bridge was blocked, it would be too late. If they tried to make a run for it, they would soon realize they were trapped in the middle.
All three of those guys had probably been waiting at the second bridge for them last night. It was a good thing they had gotten off the road and not gone any farther.
Ben and the kids would have had to face all three at once, and he didn’t like those odds. While he had confidence in Joel’s ability to handle himself with a gun, he knew neither Joel nor especially Allie was prepared for a shootout.
Ben had no choice but to take these guys out. At this point, he couldn’t assume anything but the worst about their captors and their intentions for him and the kids. These men were armed and dangerous killers—and it was time to deal with them.
He waited until the blue Bronco was out of sight. He hoped the other two men wouldn’t hear the shot from his .338 Lapua, but just in case, he’d stay put for a minute or two and be ready for them if they came back his way.
He had a good vantage point over the road from his position, and he could easily take out the driver before the two even made it back to check on their friend. While he waited, he could reach out to Joel on the radio and warn him.
Through his scope, Ben watched the man drink his beer. As the crosshairs drifted across the man’s head, Ben squeezed the trigger smoothly… BANG! The gun jerked back and up for a split-second, and when the scope came down again, the man was no longer in the crosshairs. Only a large bloody splatter—and a bullet hole—remained on the side of the truck bed.
Ben glanced at the body to confirm the man was dead. The only movement came from the half-empty beer can rolling around on the ground and leaving a trail as it spilled its contents.
Ben was satisfied the job was done but unhappy he had to do it. It was an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time and one he’d hoped to leave behind when he parted ways with the Army. Ben quickly shifted his position to face down the road while he dug through the backpack and grabbed the radio.
“Joel, come in. It’s Dad. Over.”
“I’m here. Go ahead. Over.”
“There are two guys with guns headed down the trail we were on. One scoped rifle and one shotgun. Stay put. On my way to you. Over.”
“Copy that.”
“I repeat: stay put. Watch your 12 o’clock. Start radio silence. Over”
“Roger that. Over”
Ben listened to see if he could hear the Bronco coming back. Maybe they hadn’t heard the shot after all. The exhaust had been kind of loud, but he really wished they had picked up on it now.
He was going to have to beat them to the kids.
Rather than run back through the woods, he decided to make use of the beer drinker’s pickup. He threw his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his gun, securing both things. He pushed up off the ground and sprinted for the old Chevy.
All he could think about was how he hoped the dead guy had left the keys in the ignition. When he got to the truck, he did his best to ignore the chunks of gray matter splattered across the bed rail. Some of the blood was already beginning to dry on the truck’s side in the hot morning sun.
“Yes.” Ben sighed with relief as he reached over the steering column and felt the keys hanging in the ignition.
He threw his bag in and laid his rifle across the far side of the bench seat. Then he hesitated, but after a second of thought, he decided to drag the body off the road and into the bushes. Always a good idea to cover his tracks when possible. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about the large pool of blood in the road and the trail he had made by dragging the body.
Satisfied the body was sufficiently hidden, he scrambled back, got in the truck, and fired it up. It was a manual transmission with a stick on the floor.
“Been a while since I’ve driven one of these,” he said to himself. His Jeep back in Durango was an automatic. The last time he drove something with a manual transmission was in high school, when he had his old Toyota pickup truck. Overcompensating with the gas pedal, he spun the rear tires on the blacktop as the truck lurched forward. He grabbed the shifter, and after grinding his way up through the gears, he was speeding down the road in no time. The old Chevy needed a new clutch badly, but it sure beat running.
If he couldn’t catch them on the road, he would have to get as close as he could and cut through the woods the rest of the way on foot and try to head them off. Either way, the truck would save him time and energy. And he didn’t have to be careful with it, because it wasn’t his.
At least Joel and Allie were hidden well and the Blazer was camouflaged. If these two guys got lucky and managed to follow the kids’ trail, at least they had that big tree to hide behind and use for cover. If they had to fight, they would have an easily defendable position.
The men would be approaching the kids head-on, so Joel and Allie would have the upper hand. Fortunately, Ben doubted these two idiots would be able to find Joel and Allie, at least not right away. After all, they stayed hidden all night by taking only a few common-sense precautions.
As Ben rounded the long curve in the road, the first bridge and the turnoff to the dirt road came into view. He mashed down on the gas pedal, trying to cover the last mile as quickly as possible. The Bronco was nowhere to be seen. They must have already been on the dirt road, along the river.
They would have to slow down or risk tearing their truck apart on the crater-filled trail. That was where he would make up time. Not caring about this old pickup meant he could push it to the limit on the trail. This truck was a onetime use for him and he’d rather not leave these lowlifes a working vehicle anyways.
Ben hardly slowed as he hit the turnoff before the bridge. The rear end of the pickup fishtailed on the loose gravel, spitting rocks into the air. He quickly downshifted and hit the gas, forcing the truck to straighten out.
The dirt road that ran along the river was just up ahead. The bright mid-morning sun reflected off a lingering dust cloud that hung over the intersection.
It was the first sign he was gaining on the men in the Ford Bronco.
Chapter Six
Now Ben wondered if he should confront the men on the road or follow them from a distance. He’d have the element of surprise either way. The guys in the Bronco would think it was their friend chasing them down for something. They obviously hadn’t left him with a radio.
Ben had hoped to find one in the truck when he’d commandeered it, but he hadn’t seen a radio in here anywhere or on the driver.
He slowed as he approached and slid the last couple of feet into the gravel intersection before stopping. He could see a good distance down the dirt road to his left, but still no Bronco. How were they so far ahead?
The road followed the contours of the river so he could see only a few hundred yards before it veered off to the right and out of sight. He spun the tires as he turned the wheel to the left and continued his pursuit.
After a few minutes of hard driving, he expected to see the Ford around the next bend any minute now, but he didn’t. They must have been going pretty fast.
He pushed the old Chevy even harder as it rattled down the pothole-laden road. He was definitely getting closer. The dusty trail the Bronco had left in its wake was starting to come in the windows and fill the cabin in the pickup. Ben paid it no mind and sped up even more, grimacing as the truck shook violently and skated over a washboard section of road.
Then, as he was coming around a sharp corner, he caught a glimpse of a red tail light as it disappeared around some thick bushes ahead. They were nearing the end of the dirt road and would soon be on the narrow trail that led to last night’s ca
mpsite.
But more importantly, it would take them past the kids. He couldn’t risk them finding the trail they’d made with the Blazer and didn’t plan on letting them get that far. It would only take a matter of minutes to find the trail the kids forged through the woods.
Time to make a move.
Ben let the Bronco turn onto the trail before he gunned the pickup and pulled in behind them.
When he’d first got in the pickup back at the roadblock, he noticed a camo ball cap on the seat. He grabbed it now and put it on. The hat might buy him a few extra seconds of disguise if they thought he was the other guy.
Ben blew the horn and slammed on the brakes simultaneously. He stopped the pickup and pushed the long stick shifter forward until it slipped out of gear while he waited for their reaction. A few seconds went by without a response, and he was just about to blow the horn again when he saw the red glow from the Bronco’s brake lights.
“Here we go,” he muttered. He opened his door and got ready as he pulled the Glock out of his concealed holster from the small of his back. With one foot out of the truck and the other still on the brake, Ben positioned himself in the opening between the door and the truck.
With his gun at the ready, he waited. The driver’s door swung open as the man put it in park and got out.
“What do you want now? Hey—”
But it was too late; Ben had already lined up the shot. BANG! BANG!
The driver, two shots to his chest, went down where he stood. Ben turned his attention to the passenger, who was only halfway out of the Bronco by now.
“Hey…hey, who are you?” The passenger raised his shotgun as he came around the back of the Bronco, but he was too slow.
BANG! Ben shot him once in the chest.
He staggered a couple steps back and dropped the shotgun. He clutched his chest and fell on the ground. “You…you sh-shot me.”