Viable Threat

by Julie Rowe

  She put her hand on his neck and looked at her watch. “No shooting rifles for a while.”

  “Woo,” he said, his voice artificially high. “A vacation.”

  She crossed her eyes at him.

  What the fuck?

  Before he could ask out loud, she said, “Your pulse is…okay, but you’ve lost a lot of blood. Do not try to use your right arm or shoulder, or you could puncture a lung or an artery. Make sure you seek medical care as soon as possible.” She crossed her eyes again.

  The hospital was tapped out, and she knew it. Was she trying to tell him something with the crossed eye bit?

  “This isn’t a trip to the hospital,” Moron said to her as he grabbed her by the hair and hauled her to her feet. “Your minute is up.”

  Ava looked at the moron and said, “I promise to do what I’m told.” Then she looked at River and crossed her eyes a third time.

  Geez, she was trying to tell him everything she said was opposite of what she meant. What had she said to him?

  No shooting rifles.

  Don’t use your right arm.

  Seek medical care.

  The bullet obviously didn’t do much damage. It just hurt.

  Wuss.

  “Can I shoot him anyway?” Moron asked Tall.

  “No, we need him to give the cops a message.” Tall crouched down next to him and casually put the muzzle of his weapon on his shoulder. And pushed.

  River didn’t bother trying to hide any pain, but he didn’t want to overdo it, either, so he settled for wincing and grunting.

  Tall leaned in and said softly, “Tell the police, the FBI, and Homeland Security that our reign of terror isn’t over just yet. We might hang around El Paso, or we might move on to another city.” Tall shrugged. “But we’re not done.”

  “What, no manifesto?” River asked, letting his voice come out hoarse. “No demands?”

  Tall patted him on the cheek. “Maybe next time.” He stood, walked three steps away, then turned and shot River point-blank in the chest three times.

  Son of a bitch, those hurt.

  Ava screamed and tried to get away from Moron, who jerked her back, then had to chase her after she twisted out of his hold. She only got a couple steps away before he grabbed her around the waist and carried her, kicking and screaming, out the motel room door. His boss and the other two stooges followed.

  Tall knew River was wearing armor, knew the bullets wouldn’t likely penetrate to do any real damage. He was just fucking with Ava’s head and making River hurt because it was fun for him.

  Asshole.

  When he caught the guy, he was going to rip him a new one. And he was going to catch him. Tall had made a huge mistake.

  He’d left River alive.

  As soon as their vehicle was gone, River levered himself off the floor and went out the window. Castillo was still lying in the alley, his weapon on the ground beside him. River picked up the rifle.

  He dug out his cell phone and called Dozer.

  “Dozer here,” said the agent.

  “We just got jumped by our terrorists. I’ve been shot. It’s not too bad, but Dr. Lloyd has been taken. Can you track her cell phone?”

  “Only if she keeps it on and it doesn’t get thrown out or destroyed. Hang on.”

  River could hear Dozer talking to someone, asking for a trace on Dr. Lloyd’s crisis phone.

  “Okay, she’s still online. She’s moving, heading back in this direction.”

  “She’s in a van with at least four other people. They’re armed, and they think they know what they’re doing.”

  “Are you telling me we’re dealing with more college-student terrorists?” Dozer did not sound impressed.

  “Yeah. If they don’t manage to kill themselves first, we’re going to have to put up with a bunch of kids who think they know something about warfare, complete with bad movie lines.”

  “Is it too late to quit my job?”

  That made River laugh. “Sorry, man. Until this emergency is over, Rodrigues is the only person who can help you with that.”

  “I’m doomed.”

  “At least no one has shot you yet.”

  Dozer didn’t respond immediately, and River waited, hoping for an update on Ava’s location. “Okay, it looks like they’re headed for the university.”

  There were manned road blocks between the motel and the university. “If they get stopped by anyone, they’re going to shoot.”

  “Give me a minute to clear the path.” Dozer was gone.

  River waited, using the time to check his shoulder. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but there wasn’t as much blood as he expected. Maybe his body armor had caught part of the bullet and it just went through the meaty part of his under arm. He checked Castillo’s rifle, then went back inside the room to wait.

  He fucking hated waiting. Every second that went by meant another second his mouse was with those assholes. They’d threatened to hurt her, and they would if they decided that would get them something they wanted. Or if she pissed them off too much. His mouse was too smart for her own good and too quick to share her insights, no matter how inflammatory, with everyone.

  If they touched her, he’d rip them apart with just his hands.

  Dozer came back on without warning. “She’s stationary at the university. The chemistry and computer science building.”

  “They went back to the university? You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. Where were you hit?”

  “A through and through near my armpit. It’s messy, but shouldn’t slow me down.”

  “What do you need?” Dozer’s voice was calm.

  “Seeing as how the hospital is at full capacity, I’m not looking for an ambulance right now. What I could really use is wheels and maybe a little backup.”

  “You might as well ask for the fucking moon. The roads are jammed a mile in every direction around the hospital. You heard Rodrigues has imposed a twenty-four-hour ban on all travel and public gatherings in the entire county? Anyone caught outside without a respirator and fucking Green Lantern ring will be put in lockup.”

  It was the right thing to do, but it was going to make his job a lot harder. “Great. Now I have to hide from the good guys and the bad.”

  “River, you are a Green Lantern ring.”

  “Did you just call me special?”

  Dozer laughed. “Yeah, with a goddamn superhero cape.” The laugh died. “Listen, give me a couple minutes to see if I can arrange transport for you to the university campus.”

  “You do that. I’m going to see if I can plug this hole in my arm a little better.” He began removing his body armor. He had to take off his shirt to see the wound clearly and realized it could have been a lot worse.

  The bullet had drilled a hole through his triceps, but missed hitting the brachial artery. He was able to wrap the bandage around it and secure it tightly. It hurt, but he welcomed the pain. He’d learned a long time ago to use it to stay focused. Once he got his body armor on, it supported the wound fairly well.

  After he had himself put together, he called Dozer again. “Got anything for me?”

  “Yeah, but it’s a little unconventional.”

  “Dude, I’d take a mule.”

  Dozer chuckled, but it sounded tired. “You’ll be okay with this, then. I’m sending a transit bus.”

  That wasn’t far from a mule. “What’s the punch line?”

  “The driver is a retired drill sergeant.”

  Seriously? “El Paso public transit hires drill sergeants?”

  “They couldn’t keep anyone on a couple of the college’s routes. Rowdy riders. No one gives the drill sergeant any shit.”

  “I fucking believe it. What’s his ETA?”

  “About ten minutes.”

  “What does he know?”

  “You’re Special Forces, you’ve been shot, and you’re going after the assholes responsible for the terrorist attacks.”

  Jesus.

  “Is he
armed?”

  “He’s got a license to carry, so I assume so.”

  “I actually feel sorry for the assholes. A drill sergeant on the warpath is about the worse thing I can think of to sic on them.”

  “I kind of wish I could watch.”

  “I’ll make sure my report is detailed.”

  “I look forward to hearing about it when this shit is over. The travel ban is going to keep me on my toes, so if you call and I don’t answer right away, keep calling.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Good luck.”

  “You, too,” River replied. He picked up Castillo’s weapon and walked toward the entrance to the courtyard.

  To wait for his bus.

  If things weren’t so fucked up, he’d laugh.

  The bus pulled up next to him a few minutes later, and the door opened to reveal a grizzled gray-haired man with a regulation buzz cut, a respirator, and the eyes of a madman on vacation.

  “Well now, are you my special snowflake?” the driver asked, his voice roughened by either too many cigarettes or too much yelling. Probably both.

  Drill sergeants always ask trick questions.

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant,” River replied, as if he were still in basic training. “Permission to board the bus, Drill Sergeant?”

  The old geezer laughed. “Get the fuck on, Snowflake, and point me in the direction of the sonofabitches who need their asses kicked.”

  River boarded, and the driver shut the door.

  He held out a hand. “And call me DS. I’m retired.”

  They shook. “River.”

  “Nah,” DS said. “I’m going to call you Snowflake, unless there’s trouble. Then I’ll call you River.” He put the bus in gear. “Where are we going?”

  “The chemistry and computer science building at the university.”

  The evil eyes were back. “Buckle up, Snowflake.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  11:33 a.m.

  Anger was too tame a name for what coursed through Ava’s body like a molten river, scorching everything it touched.

  Rage was a little better.

  Murderous. That sounded right.

  She doubted she looked homicidal at the moment. Not after screaming, crying, kicking, and blubbering all over the college kid trying to hang onto her. All of them could see the result of tears and snot running unchecked down her face. She hoped she looked hysterical.

  She hoped they thought she was terrified of them.

  She was terrified, but of the Neisseria they no doubt carried, not of them specifically. These boys, children, were rejoicing in their triumph of winning a battle against two armed soldiers. Premature celebration.

  Had they forgotten the six dead of their own they left behind?

  There were only four of them left.

  Were four all there really was? The van they were in had no backseats in it. Someone was driving, another person riding shotgun, and two in the back with her. If she got loose, there would be one fewer. She had plans for the asshole who’d shot River. Plans that involved her hands wrapped around his throat. Plans that ended with only one of them still breathing.

  He had a smug expression on his face whenever he glanced back at her. The prick. Just because a girl has an ugly cry doesn’t mean she isn’t busy plotting to kill you. In fact, if you’re the cause of the ugly cry, she probably is plotting to kill you.

  The driver was arguing with Boots, telling him they should hide and not go back to the university, while Boots insisted that since the CDC had already been to the university, they weren’t likely to go back.

  Had someone made a law about that when she wasn’t paying attention?

  Nope.

  They’d blown up a lab along with three FBI agents/bomb techs. There was going to be CDC, FBI, and Homeland Security all over that building just as soon as the demands of the outbreak allowed for an investigation.

  “What do we need her for anyway?” the driver asked.

  “She is going to be part of our next message to the government.”

  “Yeah, but what do we need her cooperation for? I mean, you gave her time to help that fucking soldier.”

  Boots’s chuckle had a nasty edge. Malicious in a way that made her stomach twist and dive straight into the ground.

  “I wanted to see if she cared about him, so when I shot him, again, she’d understand how fucking hopeless it would be to try to stop us.” He turned to look at her and said, “And now you know.”

  She wiped her face against her shoulder, then said, “I know what you’re doing and what you are.” She glanced at the other men. “Do they?”

  “We’re all part of a movement,” Boots said proudly. “A rebellion against the greedy, cruel actions of the American government and military. They’re the ones who started the war on terror, invading countries like it’s their right. Killing civilians and freedom fighters indiscriminately. Peaceful protests have done nothing. Less than nothing. It’s past time to wake the American public up.”

  “By killing large numbers of your fellow citizens?” she demanded. “That makes sense to you? Really?”

  “Sometimes it takes a very hard shock to wake people up to the truth.”

  “The truth is,” she said very softly now, so softly every man but the driver leaned closer to her, “that you’re a spoiled sociopath who’s managed to convince enough disenfranchised, impressionable young people that somewhere in all your rhetoric, you’re right.” By the time she got to the last word, she was yelling.

  Big mistake.

  Their faces, which had been tense with worry, now settled…hardened.

  “You’re gonna die, lady,” Boots said to her with a slick smile. “That’s the only truth you should care about.”

  She opened her mouth to allow her anger and frustration to mock him, then thought better of it. She had to find a way to stop these foolish boys from doing any more damage. Getting shot before she figured out how wouldn’t help her. Of course, they might just want to shoot her in front of an audience. Video it live on the internet with the location of their choice as the backdrop.

  “What about all the children who are dying, who are going to die because of the disease you’ve set loose?” she asked, letting go of the plug on her emotions, so fresh that tears streamed down her face. “They’re innocent.”

  “No one is innocent.” Boots laughed, a cynical, sneer of a sound. “They’ll grow up to be as selfish and greedy as everyone else. Now, they won’t.”

  One of the young men with her in the back sucked in a breath.

  “Genocide isn’t the answer,” she said between sobs. “Education is. Stage an intervention. Show them what they should be doing. You d-don’t have to kill people.”

  “Like I said before, peaceful protests went nowhere.”

  “Ch-change is hard, and it doesn’t happen fast with a country as large and spread out as ours is.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “You have to keep…keep trying. You need the majority of the population behind you to make the changes you seem to want. Killing them isn’t going to give you that.”

  He pointed the rifle at her head. “If you don’t shut up, I’m going to shoot you right now.”

  She stopped talking, but she wasn’t quiet. She let herself cry and sob until Boots yelled at the two men in the back. “Shut her up!”

  Ava waited for one of them to hit her, or for some other aggressive act to occur.

  The guy to her left held out a tissue.

  She stared at it without really understanding what it was or why he would give it to her. Offering your hostage a tissue couldn’t be part of the terrorist handbook, could it? He waved it at her when she didn’t take it right away. “Don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be,” he said softly.

  As she wiped her face, the guy behind her said, “My little sister is only five. The only thing she’s guilty of is eating too much candy at Halloween.”

  “So, what?” Boots asked. “You wa
nt to switch sides?” He pointed his weapon at the younger man. “Too late for that.”

  “I’m not bailing on our mission. I just don’t think little kids are guilty of all the shit their parents do. Get them into a family that has the right values and teaches those values, and they’ll be great citizens of the world.”

  Boots grunted and lowered his rifle. “Interesting. I never thought of that.” He appeared to consider the idea. “Take the kids and adopt them out,” he muttered under his breath.

  She hadn’t thought these idiots could get any more reprehensible. Wrong. Worse, there was nothing she could do about it.

  The van slowed. In the distance, flashing emergency lights caught everyone’s attention.

  “Whoa,” the driver said. “There’s cops ahead.”

  “Try another road.”

  “Which one?” The driver’s voice shook. He was beginning to panic.

  “Just turn right here, and we’ll figure it out.”

  All four men craned their heads around to check for pursuit, but the roads were eerily empty and silent. The driver pulled over to the curb and parked.

  Ava considered an escape attempt while they were stationary, but just as she made the decision to try it, Boots shifted his attention to her.

  “Don’t even think it, lady.”

  That drew the others’ attention.

  A cruel grin spread slowly across Boots’s face. When he dropped his gaze to stare at her breasts, she held her breath and waited to see what he would do next. Or not do. As one second flowed into two, then three, her imagination gave her more and more unwanted possibilities, twisting her stomach until it was so painful she could barely breathe. Boots believed in his cause wholeheartedly. The others were followers, not happy about killing little kids, but they would follow his orders. If she pushed now, tried to talk sense into the followers, she’d only succeed in getting shot. Or raped.

  The guy behind her spoke up. “According to my phone, there’s a route delivery trucks are supposed to take into the college.”

  “That sounds good,” Boots said, finally looking away from her.

  The boy with the phone gave the driver the first set of directions, and he pulled away from the curb.

  “Hey, how come it’s so quiet?” the other kid in the back with her asked. “No cars, no one walking, everything looks closed.”