by R. D. Brady
Greg leaned forward, looking over Norah’s shoulder. “Triple digits. Maybe we could keep the speed to double digits, huh?”
Norah ignored him. There had been reports of erratic driving and three large black SUVs going at high rates of speed down I-90 not that long ago. They had gotten off at an exit, and then there were no further details.
Cops had been dispatched but had been held up by a car accident on the highway caused by one of the SUVs. Norah took the exit before the accident to avoid getting caught up in the traffic.
In the passenger seat, Adam scanned a map of the surrounding area, trying to figure out where Sandra might have gone to hide. Even though it was a logical approach, Norah didn’t think it would be much help. Sandra wouldn’t have been looking at a map. She would’ve been driving by instinct. Taking turns, shooting down roads, she would’ve just been moving on adrenaline.
Norah rolled down the window as they drove down Main Street.
She scanned the street, looking for any sign that Sandra had come this way. Anything that might—
She paused, turning her head, noting that Adam had done the same. It sounded like firecrackers somewhere in the distance. “Which way?”
Norah hadn’t been able to tell where exactly the sounds were coming from except that it was somewhere up ahead. “We need to head to the right,” Adam said.
Norah didn’t question him, just took the first right. Adam was an unusual man, but he was definitely skilled. If he said it was coming from this direction, then it was coming from this direction.
She met Greg’s gaze in the rearview mirror. He gave her a nod. Greg had told her about when he’d first met Adam. How he’d come in as some sort of Rambo/assassin/hero and saved him from two unknowns. At the time, Norah had thought he was exaggerating. But after seeing Adam in New Mexico, she had a feeling that if anything, he’d undersold the man’s abilities.
Norah tore down the street. A man and a woman who were about to cross the road dove back for the sidewalk. Norah winced, glancing at them through the rearview, but they seemed unharmed.
Even above the sound of the engine, she could make out the firecracker sounds. They were M4s. She was sadly familiar with the noise the semiautomatic machine gun made. She patted the P-90 in her lap.
“There.” Adam nudged his chin down the road. But Norah’s eyes had already focused in on the junkyard entrance. A semicircle sign above the wide truck entrance proclaimed it to be Pete’s Metal and Scrap. A scrap-metal fence surrounded the large yard. The two chain-link fence gates that covered the entrance had been blown wide open, one hanging from only a single hinge.
“Ready?” Adam asked.
But Norah knew it wasn’t really a question. It was a statement. “Yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The car squealed around the corner. Greg held on to the back of Adam’s chair to keep from being flung on top of Iggy. His stomach rolled ominously. He rolled his window down a crack to get some fresh air before he spewed.
Note to self: never get in a car with Norah ever again.
He’d been relieved when Norah had taken the wheel instead of Adam. He didn’t know why, but he’d thought she was more reserved, a little more reluctant to jump into action. Apparently he was very, very bad at reading people. The car trip from the airport had been hair-raising. He could swear she missed at least seven cars by mere inches. And she didn’t even blink. She merely kept going. She was like Adam’s other half.
Greg’s head jerked up at the sound of gunfire from up ahead. Some people might think it sounded like fireworks, but Greg knew better.
He strained to see something out of the window. He leaned forward between the seats to get a better view. That was when he saw the angel rise up from a junkyard, a man squirming in his arms before he was released. Greg cringed, knowing that from that height he was going to be in for a world of pain, if not a world of dead.
“You guys see him?” Greg asked, leaning between the seats.
“We see him.” Norah flicked a glance above the junkyard before returning her gaze to the road. “I’m going to pull up by the entrance. Adam and I are going to go in. You are going to keep Iggy in the car.”
“Excellent plan. I will stay in the car.”
There wasn’t time to say any more than that. Without warning, Norah pulled over to the side of the road, slamming the brakes hard enough to send up a huge dust cloud and cause whiplash. She and Adam bolted from the car, sprinting for the junkyard entrance. They stopped at the side of the entrance, peering through the gates before they disappeared inside.
Greg looked over at Iggy. “Well, that was fast.”
More gunfire sounded from inside. Greg scanned the area, but all of the activity seemed to be inside the junkyard. “Not cowards for staying outside, right? I mean, they can handle a few guys. They should be fine.”
“Ig?”
Greg drummed his fingers on the side of the door, debating. Before Area 51, he never would’ve been the type to rush into the middle of a gunfight. He was firmly in the camp of “if you hear gunfire, call someone better equipped to handle it.” And Adam and Norah were definitely better equipped to handle it than he was. But he also knew that things didn’t always go as planned. And this junkyard looked huge, which left a lot of ground to be covered and a lot of ambush spots.
Iggy climbed up onto the back of the driver’s seat, peering through the windshield. “Ig?”
“She’s okay. She’s good at this, right?”
Gunfire rattled from inside. Greg ran a hand over the Beretta in his holster. “Well, I suppose I did get all dressed up. Okay, we’ll take a look. But we’re not going in. We’re just going to stay by the gates, and if they need any help, then we’ll be there to help them, okay?”
Iggy nodded repeatedly. “Ig.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The sound of gunfire followed Sammy as he rose into the air. Sandra grabbed Luke’s arm, ignoring his cry of alarm. They needed to move, and they needed to move now.
She yanked Luke to his feet and down a small break in the towering lines of cars. A man let out a scream behind her. She looked back in time to see him as he plunged from twenty feet up in the air, landing on top of the car that she and Luke had been hiding in. Her gaze darted to Sammy, who hovered above the car, his wings beating back and forth.
Once again, he looked to her like a demon summoned from a witch’s book. He was over six feet tall, broad and muscular through the shoulders, with wings that seemed to span at least eight or nine feet. In the sunlight, they were even more terrifying than in the dark. They were leathery and crisp. They snapped when he moved them quickly. And each point came to a razor edge that shone when the light hit them.
In her imagination, he had been black, but in reality he was more of a dark maroon. She was surprised to see that he looked like he was wearing pants, although why he would be was beyond her. Sammy met her gaze. Terror tore through her. Ripping her gaze away, she tightened her grip on Luke and picked up her pace.
As a child, her parents had taken her to church every Sunday. And she had attended Bible study twice a week. Her parents’ religious demands were part of the reason that she no longer spoke with them.
That and the beatings they doled out in response to any interpreted transgression of God’s will.
A large part of her early religious education involved discussions about the devil. Her church impressed upon her that the devil was alive and well and waiting for her to show vulnerability. Waiting for her to slip up so that he could slip into her mind and use her as a weapon, pulling her from God.
When she’d escaped her parents and the Church, she’d shoved all of that to the back of her mind. And the more she learned and the more she read, the less of a role the devil played in any of her thoughts. He was a construct created to keep weak-minded individuals in line as far she was concerned.
She swallowed hard. Maybe I was too hasty in that decision.
Chapter Thirty
>
Norah didn’t understand junkyards. Everything that surrounded her looked like garbage. Cars were piled on top of one another with their roofs caved in. Old washing machines and car parts were packed six feet high. And there were tires everywhere. Some were stacked on top of one another, but most were just haphazardly thrown on top of mountains of other mixed metals. How did anybody make money out of this stuff? Even if you were looking for a specific part, how would you find it in all of this?
But that wasn’t the reason she disliked junkyards today. Today she hated them because they provided plenty of hiding spots and cover for anyone who wanted to snipe at them.
Given the landscape, though, it had been Sandra’s best option. She couldn’t outrun all the SUVs, and it wasn’t like the area was teeming with people. There was no train station, mall, or city where Sandra and Luke could lose themselves in a crowd. From what little Norah had seen of this part of the state, she wasn’t sure they even had enough people to make a crowd.
With the group chasing Sandra, they’d probably just doubled the local population.
Adam walked five feet in front of Norah and to her right. His head acted like it was on a swivel, moving from side to side. He held up a hand when they reached the end of the aisle and pointed two fingers to the left.
Norah tucked the P90 a little more firmly into her shoulder. With a glance behind them to make sure no one was creeping along their rear, she followed him. A scream echoed through the junkyard, followed by a crash of metal.
Norah swallowed, hoping that Sammy realized that they were the good guys. If, of course, there was such a thing as good guys and bad guys in his mind. Maybe if you weren’t a kid or an alien hybrid, you were all bad. If he’d been locked up at Area 51, she couldn’t exactly blame him for that mentality.
A crunch of gravel sounded behind them. Norah turned, dropping to her knee as a shot rang out. It pinged off the metal a foot to her right at head level. She drew a bead on the offender, quickly noting his vest and took aim for his knee, then pulled the trigger.
He screamed, dropping down to one knee. He looked up.
Sorry. Norah pulled the trigger again, and the next bullet entered his forehead. A spray of blood coated the ground, soaking quickly into the dry earth. She swallowed, a sweat breaking over her. It wasn’t the first time she’d killed someone, but she’d hoped she’d left those days behind.
Gunfire broke out behind her. She whirled again as Adam took out two black-clad individuals and lunged at a third.
Norah turned back to make sure they were still in the clear when movement brought her attention to the left. She dove for the ground as gunfire broke out. A ricochet sent a shard of metal across her cheek. She could feel the blood dripping down.
Okay. You guys want to play, let’s play.
Chapter Thirty-One
Greg moved to the side of the junkyard doors. Iggy was crouched on Greg’s back, making Greg feel little bit like Luke Skywalker with Yoda. “Okay, I don’t see anybody. So I guess that’s good?”
Gunfire burst from somewhere deeper in the junkyard.
“Ig?”
“Okay, granted, gunfire is not a good sign. But I’m sure that—”
“Ig!” Iggy clambered down from Greg and darted through the opening.
“Iggy, no,” Greg stage-whispered. But Iggy was moving too fast to hear him or completely ignoring him. Greg debated for only a second before sprinting after him. Please don’t get me shot. Please don’t get me shot.
Iggy sprinted down the main pathway, moving incredibly fast for a guy incredibly short. Greg couldn’t even think of keeping up. Iggy reached the end of the path and then turned, disappearing from view.
Greg picked up his pace, lengthening his stride, but slowed as he reached the end of the path. He stopped next to an old burned-out van. He peered around the corner. There was no Iggy in sight. He groaned. I am so dead.
A scream sounded from above him. His gaze shot to the sky just as the winged creature from Dulce dropped someone to the ground. He slammed into a car with a loud thump. The winged creature was already speeding off after someone else.
Dust billowed up around the man, but through the dust, Greg saw movement. A woman was running. He could see her long hair.
Oh, this is so stupid, Greg thought before he took off after her. Greg kept a parallel track to where he’d seen the woman. There were at least two men giving chase. As far as Greg could tell, they didn’t know he was there. Gunfire and return fire sounded from somewhere behind him. Apparently Norah and Adam were hard at work.
Greg focused on the situation at hand. He leapt over an old tire that had become dislodged from a stack of metal and rubber to his left. Up ahead, he could see that the path ended at a cross path. The cross path was big enough for a car, which meant that this path next to them also ended.
He swallowed, not sure exactly what he was going to do at that point, but he kept moving. Ahead, the woman and a boy burst out of their pathway, turning and heading to the right, which brought them across Greg’s path. The two gunmen sprinted after them. Greg slammed to a stop, pushing himself between two piles of rusted cars to avoid being seen.
He stepped onto the path to give chase. A dark shadow covered the ground in front of him. Greg didn’t even think. He dove for the ground and rolled as the winged creature flew over him, crashing into the two men. The winged creature grabbed one of the men, rising up with him into the air. The other one got to his knees.
Greg bolted forward, tackling the man around his waist as he stood up. The two of them hit the ground, the man underneath Greg. Greg grabbed the back of the man’s head and slammed it into the ground with a wince.
The man groaned and then rolled onto his side, dislodging Greg. Greg flew to the side, his hand coming to rest on a pile of discarded pipes. He gripped one as he vaulted to his feet and slammed it into the man’s jaw. He winced again as blood sprayed across the ground. The man’s knees buckled, and then he dropped, crashing face first into the ground.
Sandra and her son had stopped to watch. Wind blew Greg’s hair across his face. He wiped it away as he looked up, his whole body tensing. Sammy hovered only a few feet away, his wings keeping him aloft. Greg dropped the pipe and put his hands up. “Not one of the bad guys.”
The creature hovered there for a few seconds more before flying low and disappearing around the path. Greg’s knees gave out for a minute, and his breath came out in a whoosh as he patted himself down. Not dead. I am not dead.
He turned to where Sandra and Luke stood. Sandra stood protectively in front of him. Greg raised his hands. “I’m here with the good guys. I’m not with those guys.”
Luke appeared around Sandra’s back. “Sammy said you would help us.”
Sandra looked down at her son in alarm.
But Greg nodded. “Yes. That is the plan.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Norah had crept quietly into a car stacked upon two others to use it as sort of a sniper’s nest. Adam kept watch to make sure she could get up there safely and then disappeared to do his own hunting.
Norah could see four men one row over still scanning the area, which was good. It meant Sandra and Luke hadn’t been found yet. Farther back in the junkyard, she could see the winged creature flying low before he tore into two black-clad figures. Norah assumed that Sandra and Luke were somewhere over there and that he was helping them. At least she hoped they were over there and that he was helping them. And that they had not misread its motivations.
The four men from one row over headed toward her. Norah took a deep breath, calming her breathing. Okay. Here we go. She placed the P90 on what was left of the dashboard of the hollowed-out Ford. Her hands didn’t shake. Her breathing remained consistent. It was both amazing and horrible how quickly one could fall back into old habits.
She lined up her shot, wanting to wait until they were close enough that they wouldn’t be able to get out of range easily. Just a little closer. Just a little closer.
She pulled the trigger, and the first man went down. She quickly sighted the second, but her shot went wide, catching him in the vest. He still dropped from the impact of the bullet. The other two sprinted back, looking for a hiding spot in between the metal. She caught one in the back of the thigh before he could reach it, but the fourth slipped through.
Well, better than I would’ve done on the ground. Speaking of which …
Norah scrambled from her position, knowing that the men would be up and looking for her. She just stepped onto the frame of the second car when gunfire burst out around her. She dropped to the ground, hitting hard and rolling as gunfire dotted the area around her.
She crawled underneath a beat-up Volkswagen van across the small passage from her hiding spot. A glance at the other three sides told her she’d chosen badly. There was only one escape route, and it was currently littered with bullets.
Way to go, Norah. So much for it all coming back to you. One of her instructors back in Basic had stressed that you never got yourself into a position that you couldn’t get yourself out of. Of course, the whole situation with Iggy was a situation that she couldn’t get herself out of, so she’d failed on multiple levels.
He would not be happy.
She backed as far away from the opening as she could, but it was an awkward angle to get a shot off from, so she had to choose between either putting herself closer to the opening in order to lie down and get a shot or pull all the way back and shoot badly.
She chose shooting badly, at least for this situation. She switched the P90 to automatic. She was just going to spray anything that came within her view. It wouldn’t matter if she could sight something from this position. She wouldn’t get much more than a look at the people’s feet.
She scrunched down low, gripping the handle with her with her right hand. A crunch of gravel nearby told her she was about to have company. She said a quick prayer before a set of boots appeared in the pathway. She pulled the trigger, spraying gunfire across the opening.