Hunted (Collapse Book 2)

by Riley Flynn

  But there was no time to celebrate. The fire was alive.

  Alex grabbed his rifle and his knife and ran. No time to watch the flames catch at the fabric.

  Back toward the tall building, back the way he’d arrived. He came to a door. A fire escape.

  It gave way under his boot. No alarms sounded; no electricity here. The distant shriek of the drone overhead. Alex looked back. A black column of smoke rising from the car. Surely, he thought, it should have-

  The explosion made him duck, made him dive into the building. It threw him to the floor and he landed roughly on his shoulder. No time for pain.

  That should get their attention. Alex grabbed hold of the door and pulled it shut behind him. He needed to get high up. He needed a vantage point. No electricity in the building. No lights. No elevator. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, he found the stairs and started to climb.

  * * *

  Alex stepped into an empty office on the third floor and saw the smoke billow past the window. Running in, past the empty cubicles and dust-covered keyboards, he found a spot overlooking the parking lot. Just in time to see the Cadillac arrive.

  The window to the office only opened a few inches wide. Safety feature. Not much space, but enough for Alex to prop himself up against the wall and point the rifle down at the scene below. The sun behind him, the smoke rising up, there was no risk of the scope flashing a reflection to the agents.

  The crosshairs sat over the agent’s shoulder. The white man. Byrne. He stood watching the burning Ford. Wearing a Kevlar vest, Alex noticed. Would the Savage break through that? Not worth the risk. The man started talking. Even from high up, Alex could hear him. Byrne was shouting.

  “I told you we shouldn’t have left that goddamn hick alive.”

  Root laid open the briefcase on the hood of the Cadillac, unfurling the satellite device.

  “He scared them off, Root. Idiot with a gun. We could have had them.”

  While his partner stayed silent, tinkering with his device, Byrne took to stalking around the parking lot.

  “How much time before we can see again?”

  “It needs to circle around,” Root told him, his voice more measured. “It’s difficult when we’re patching in this early. Someone will notice.”

  “You’ll notice my foot in your ass if you don’t get us online right this second.”

  Root stopped, turned, and stared Byrne down.

  “Just get her working,” Byrne said, spitting on the ground. “We’re too close to abandon them now. I can taste them, Root. Taste them.”

  The sound of the drone echoed down from above. Alex hoped the others were still well hidden.

  “I’m not reading anything.” Root watched the device, adjusted dialed and switches. “Just this fire.”

  “No movement? No heat sigs? No nothing? We don’t have time for this. Find them.”

  “We just don’t have the resources, Byrne. We’ve got a dead president and a worldwide collapse. You think we’re the number one priority? We shouldn’t even be using this bird.”

  “The mission is not over, Root. Not over.”

  Alex switched the scope from agent to agent, following the conversation. The suits of both men were creased and tired. Byrne’s earpiece radio dangled, abandoned, over his shoulder.

  “The old world is dead, Root. You want to start the next one in jail? In a camp? This is our war, Root, we get the job done. And we get paid.”

  These were the same men from Rockton, Alex told himself. The same men who had been hunting them for God only knew how many miles. The shootout in Rockton. The roadside bodies in the forest. The dead old man in the farmhouse. Killing came naturally to these men.

  Alex could end it all in a second. Through the scope of the rifle, he watched them. Two shots to end it all.

  But must be a reason for their relentless chase, a reason they hadn’t handed Alex a moment of peace. The information on those drives. Evidence. Explanations. Enigmas. Those drives were the only connections to the old world, the only way to explain what had happened.

  And, Alex knew, there was no way to get out of this alive.

  Even if these men recovered the drives, completed their mission, there was no escape. Seen too much. Heard too much. Never mind not being able to actually use the flash drives, simply knowing about them was too much.

  Conspiracies run deeper than ocean trenches.

  The only people who see the bottom are those about to drown.

  The crosshairs sat on Byrne’s neck. The back of his head. One squeeze of the trigger. Just like the rabbits in the woods. Only Cam wasn’t here to take the shot this time.

  Need to think like a leader, Alex told himself. Take the shot. Kill or be killed. Don’t care about the dreams. This is it. Think of the others. Finish the mission for them. Byrne yawned with his whole body. Alex held the rifle steady. But once this one was dead, what then?

  Could he reload, find the other one and take him out without trouble? Once Root knew where the shooter was, he’d be able to track him down with ease. Sitting up above the parking lot, Alex was a rat in a cage. An easy target.

  Too easy. Maybe not innocent. But murder was murder. Even with all the dead in the world, Alex felt trepidation as soon as his finger touched the trigger. He’d come a long way. From bored office worker to something like a fugitive, fleeing with his friends across stateliness.

  The sudden change had been enough to bring him to kill, to end life after life. It was only after he’d slowed down, after he’d had a chance to rest and catch his breath, that the guilt caught up with him.

  He was a killer. It haunted him.

  The smoke still billowed out from the old Ford. Think like a leader. Take the shot. The only choice.

  Alex looked through the scope. Held his breath. Steady. The only choice.

  Maybe not. Alex felt his arms tug to the right, the crosshairs moving onto the Cadillac. To Root? No. The device. The small satellite dish, spinning and clicking.

  He squeezed.

  The device exploded. Root fell to the ground. Through his open eye, Alex could see Byrne duck and dive for cover.

  He fired again. This time into the hood of the Cadillac. Again and again. The tires. The engine.

  Take it all out. Fire into the Ford, send a cloud of smoke pouring over the parking lot.

  And run.

  Out the office, out the building, and out of sight. Disguised in the smoke, sitting in the streets like a heavy black fog. Run back to the others, back to the car.

  Don’t let them hear. Just run. Run.

  Chapter 24

  Alex ran through the kicked-down door and into a world of thick, black smoke. The gas from the Ford and whatever the hell was inside the big Cadillac burned and burned.

  It stung the eyes. Alex lifted a hand to his face to cover his mouth and nose. Nothing could stop him coughing.

  “Root!” Byrne screamed from deep inside the fog. “Root! They’re here!”

  Hardly able to see, Alex tried to remember the world before the smoke. Where had he come from? Which direction? He heard footsteps around him and tried to stop himself coughing again. He failed.

  “I hear him, Root! I hear someone. Stop him, now!”

  The smoke drifted. A wind blew in over the rivers. Before, Alex had moved with the big river to his left. So he ran to his right, toward the crackling sound of the still-burning Ford.

  A gunshot. Someone was shooting.

  “I heard him, Root! I heard someone. Shoot low, take them alive.”

  Byrne was shooting. Root wasn’t responding. Alex kept running.

  A second shot rang out. Closer.

  The smoke couldn’t last forever. A building loomed up in front of Alex. One of the warehouses. Get behind that, back where he could see. Then sprint to the bridge.

  A fist flew out of the smoke and hit Alex in the chin. A kick to the shins followed.

  Alex fell to the ground, rolled, and tried to grab at his rifle.

&n
bsp; “Not so fast, kid.” Byrne kicked Alex’s hand. “Not so fast.”

  The man stood above Alex, appearing from inside the black smoke. The mustache curled up as Byrne smiled.

  “Root, I got him. It’s the one. He’s here.” Byrne leaned down to Alex. “You’ve got something for me.”

  Alex swept his leg around, but Byrne was fast.

  The man jumped, hurdling the attack and driving down with a balled fist into Alex’s thigh.

  Alex grabbed at his leg instinctively, curling himself up into a ball, feeling the hammer blow driven through his flesh and bruising into the bone. He writhed around in pain, lips curled back to bare his teeth. The Savage wasn’t on his back any more. He’d dropped it. Byrne didn’t even notice as he loomed over his victim.

  “You’re coming with me.”

  Alex didn’t talk. He had nothing to say.

  Byrne bent even lower and Alex scrambled backward. No rifle. But he had the knife. Still in the sheath. Tucked away on his belt. Maybe Byrne hadn’t noticed.

  “I think you’ve got something that a lot of people are very, very interested in.”

  Byrne’s voice seemed unaffected by the smoke. Alex coughed again.

  “You’re going to come with me, nice and easy, and give the people what they want. Root! Come here.”

  Footsteps in the smoke. The other man was circling in on them. Alex still couldn’t see him.

  “Act nice, now.”

  Byrne was advancing, almost right over Alex. He kicked out again, catching an ankle. It hurt. Fine. Alex grabbed for his leg again, moaning with the pain. Let the man believe.

  Alex rolled around on the parking lot pavement. In circles, clutching at his foot. Byrne laughed.

  Pulling his knees up, tucking himself into a fetal position, Alex felt for the handle of the knife. Byrne laughed again.

  “God damn, boy, are you going to make a me a rich man. This is a new world. Root! Root!”

  The footsteps were louder. Still far away. Byrne bellowed another laugh and bent down over Alex.

  “Think you’re clever, eh? Shooting at us? Not so clever now.”

  Alex dragged the knife out and drove it as hard as he could towards Byrne’s heart.

  He missed as the man turned.

  The knife slid into Byrne’s shoulder, only stopping when it hit the bone.

  Surprised, Byrne fell back. Alex didn’t wait. He got up, felt around for his rifle, found the Savage, and ran. He could hear the wailing and the footsteps behind him. He left them in the thick, black smoke and ran toward the bridge.

  * * *

  Alex rounded the corner. Sprinting. Racing. All he heard behind him was burning and shouting. No time to think about what he’d just done. Better that way.

  He didn’t dare to turn around, didn’t dare to see if anyone was taking aim. Soon he was left with just the sound of his sneakers slapping on the pavement and on the roads. He knew he was scared, he could feel the thick, throbbing pain from deep inside his leg, but he ignored it all. There was no other option.

  The overpass and the bridge were ahead. Almost there. The buildings flew by, just a dull blur. A streak of brown brick after brown brick; concrete smudges narrowing to a tunnel. Alex ran.

  He arrived around a corner and saw the car. Joan and Timmy were already inside, Finn hanging his head out of the window. Alex flapped his arms. He didn’t slow down. They got the message. Cam, waiting by driver’s door, ducked inside. The car started.

  Alex skidded up to the car door, motioning for Joan to slide across.

  “Drive, Cam. Drive quick,” he shouted in through the open door and pushed back Finn as he climbed inside. He stretched out an arm, tugging the door closed as Cam accelerated.

  “Alex, what on earth – what happened?”

  Joan pushed herself as far across as possible as Alex untangled himself from his rifle, lungs heaving. Her voice was high, her words quick and worried, her hands reaching for the afflicted leg.

  “We… I… don’t have time. Drive. Just drive.” Alex’s leg ached. His lungs burned. He coughed and spluttered, eyes closed.

  “Sure thing, boss.” Cam’s voice was calm, but the drawl was curt and sharp, laced with anxiety. “But where?”

  Cam flicked his head back over his shoulders, trying to get a look at Alex. Only Timmy faced forward, his eyes scanning every road sign, his back rigid and upright.

  “Get over the bridge, man.” He spoke quickly, a flurry of frightened staccato syllables. “I got it. Just listen to me.”

  Alex leaned himself up against the window, feeling the speed of the car increase as his body sank back into the seat. He opened his eyes.

  The rear window was still covered in clear plastic. Not clear enough to see through. They’d repaired the other scratches and dents and problems. Or so Alex thought. Riding back here, the car felt a lot less stable. Everything rattled and creaked.

  They reached the on-ramp for the bridge and began to cross. A slapping sound, followed by a wing mirror exploding in a hail of plastic shards.

  “Oh man, look. They’re there!”

  Timmy pointed through the side window. The two agents, soot-coated and armed. Standing at the side of the bridge. Cam began to weave the car, trying to dodge. Most of the bullets whizzed and purred as they flew past the car. One hit a headlight. Another sliced past the bodywork.

  Cam straightened the car and held his hands steady.

  “Hey, Cam! Cam, you’re driving right at them!” Alex shouted from the back seat. “Cam!”

  Round after round fired. The car swerved left and right.

  Left and right and right again.

  “Cam! Cam!”

  Everyone was shouting. The dog barked. Joan pushed herself down low, cradling Finn. Timmy ducked. A crack across the windshield. It shattered. The car filled with lumps of broken safety glass. Alex watched. Cam mumbled under his breath.

  “Eight. Nine.”

  People screamed. The dog barked. Guns fired. They were turning, dodging. Almost at the agents.

  “Ten.”

  Cam righted the wheel and hit the gas. The car sped up. Alex looked through the empty space where the windshield used to be. The agents were reloading. Out of bullets. Cam had counted them out. The men didn’t have enough time. The car was almost on top of them.

  They threw themselves out of the way, diving behind a barrier.

  The car sped past, turning again.

  Over the bridge. Fast now. Too fast.

  Alex tried to look behind. The plastic sheeting caught, buffeted by the wind coming in through the front. It ripped off and flew away behind them.

  It floated down the road, blowing past the agents as they rolled along the ground. Alex saw them, dwindling until they were nothing but tiny black specks. Vanishing.

  The air swirled around inside the car. The insides were covered in bits of broken window. Joan began to raise her head, a cut appearing across her cheek below the rims of her glasses. The blustering air was deafening.

  The car crossed the bridge. Timmy shouted something about heading south and Cam turned the wheel. They hit a new road. Looking back above the city, Alex saw the drone. Lower than usual. Descending. Heading fast toward the ground. It dropped down below the horizon.

  They drove out of Charleston far too fast. The wind blew hard and cold into the car. But no one cared. It was too loud for anyone to talk.

  The light faded from the day. Alex watched the world slip past, gray and bleak in the sunset.

  The world which had felt so empty now seemed filled with threats. Now, they needed a place to hide.

  Chapter 25

  “We should have stopped sooner.”

  Timmy tried to drape a sheet of tarpaulin across the rear window. Alex held the gas lantern, Joan threw a stick into the field and Finn collected it. Pulled over at the side of the road, in the dark, Cam watched for anyone approaching. He held the rifle now.

  “Don’t think so, man. We need distance between us and them
. Distance, man.”

  A quiet night. No crickets in the trees. Too cold for them. An owl, out in the distance. The sound of Finn’s paws scratching as he ran, and Timmy’s fingers picking at the corners of the plastic sheet, trying to fit it to the rear of the car.

  “I don’t even know what we’re going to do about the front window.”

  “Nothing. Nothing we can do.”

  “You think we need a new ride?”

  “Yeah. We’re not getting far in this.”

  “It’ll hold out, man. Remember all that work we did.”

  “I hope so.”

  Timmy stood back and admired his handiwork. Joan approached, the dog at her heels.

  “You know this isn’t going to work?”

  “What?” The smile fell from Timmy’s face. “Why not?”

  “The air’s just going to build up and rip it off. It was fine when we had a windshield.”

  “You think?” Timmy walked around the car, looking at the damage.

  “I know, Timmy. Look, give me your knife. We’ll cut some holes in it. That should help.”

  The knife was handed over and Joan began to cut airholes into the tarp.

  “So, Alex,” she said, “where do we go from here?”

  “The same place. Virginia. Same plan as always.”

  Alex had been thinking about this ever since he’d watched Root and Byrne fade from view.

  “You’re not changing the plan?”

  “No. Speeding it up. We should move quick.”

  “I don’t know, man. What if they spot us? We should keep like it was before. Slow and cold.”

  Timmy shouted across to Cam.

  “Slow and cold, ain’t that right, Cam?”

  Cam, standing twenty feet away, barely moved. He watched the road. He’d gone quiet. Ever since the stunt with the car. Ever since they’d escaped. Alex turned back to Joan.

  “I really think we should speed up. This car isn’t going to last too long. I’d rather get as close as possible to the farm. We should have stopped sooner, repaired as much as possible, and then made straight for Virginia.”