by Matt James
I’m relieved to see that my bow looks to be in full working order. It’s not the most forceful weapon, but it comes in handy when we need a quiet takedown. I suspect it's going to get a lot of use shortly if we are, indeed, going on the hunt for Farrell.
I climb out and hear something I don’t like. Bullets pop somewhere off in the distance. They sound far away, to the south maybe. As I turn to look, I accept my things from Cooper and Jill. I’m feeling more put together, especially with having my Glock back in its place under my left armpit. Two spare mags slide into the inside pocket of my jacket next. Last, but not least, is my knife and sheath. It returns to its place on the back of my pants, attaching to my belt with ease.
Oh, wait.
“What about my badge and map?”
Cooper shakes his head. “No luck, sorry.”
I frown, but mentally shrug it off. They weren’t that important. My badge was just a piece of metal, and Coni can draw us another map when we get back. Still…
Before we get moving, Andy introduces us to the rest of her team. I shake each of their hands and thank them for their help. We owe them our lives. Jill and I are also given our own two-way radios with microphones attached. The radio goes on my belt next to my knife, and the mic clips to the collar of my jacket.
“Radio check,” Andy says, depressing the mic’s talk button. “You hear me, guys?”
“Gotcha,” I reply, reaching around my back to adjust the volume.
“Loud and clear,” Jill says, looking antsy.
Cooper nods his head, nonverbally confirming that he heard us.
He’s about my height, lean, and maybe Jill’s age, making him thirty-five, or so. His dirty, blonde hair sticks out everywhere beneath his baseball cap. Everyone has ditched their tactical helmets, for now, replacing them with an ensemble of headgear. Hats, bandanas, ponytail… Oh, okay. One of them, like Andy, is a woman.
“So,” Cooper says, stepping forward, “where to first?”
More gunfire erupts to the south. I jab a thumb over my shoulder and say, “Follow the bullets.”
We pile into the three CPD Yukons. They’re exactly like the one we just lost back up the hill. My thoughts turn to Sanctuary and the fact that we were attacked so close to home. Is that where Farrell is right now?
No, I decide. If that were true, why bring us back into town?
Farrell has to have a base of operations somewhere in the downtown district. But where? It has to be somewhere central that is also reasonably easy to defend. She’s made a lot of enemies over the last couple of weeks. I can’t imagine she’s just hanging out in the open sitting in a lawn chair and sipping on a daiquiri.
The significant destinations directly south of us are mostly hotels. Could she be holed up inside one of them? Could be… With the power out, they’d be easy to defend, but also terrible to navigate if you were the one being hunted. Stairs for days.
In the lead vehicle, we head off. Cooper is behind the wheel with Andy up front in the passenger seat. Jill and I are in back, and at the mercy of someone else’s driving. I’m not comfortable with that. Not at all. I’d rather be the one piloting us around. I trust me. I don’t know this guy, but Andy believes in him enough to have him as her number two.
Speaking of “number two,” I haven’t had anything to eat in a while, and my stomach is starting to remind me of that. At least we’re where the most food is. I may even grab something inside one of the hotels—if we end up going inside one.
I lean forward, sticking my head in between Andy and Cooper’s seats. “Just drive until someone starts shooting at us.”
“And the Unseen?” Cooper asks, looking at me in his rearview mirror.
I grin. “That’s what the bumper is for.”
11
Snowfall has picked up. Not enough to change our plan, though. It’s just a light dusting, and it shouldn’t cause us problems. Shouldn’t… Either way, I’m not looking forward to leaving the comfortable confines of the Yukon.
Our three-vehicle convoy heads south along Maple Lane. To our right is the remains of Sugarlands Distilling Company. It sits on the corner of Maple and Parkway. Just to the west, it’s the crater that was the Ole Smoky Moonshine distillery. It went up in flames sometime before we arrived. At least the Sugarlands building still has its walls and roof intact. Well, mostly intact…
Cooper stops us at the intersection, and together, we scope out the area. The best route to our destination would be to continue across Parkway and then onto Reagan Drive. Unfortunately, we can’t. There’s a, uh, space needle in our way. Most of it lies atop the road, but some of it is on top of the ‘Ripley’s Believe It or Not!’ museum. We were there when it happened too. It was one of the craziest car chases of my life. I recall that the needle came close to collapsing on our heads.
“Find us another way,” Andy says. “There…”
She extends her finger to the west, between two overturned trucks. There’s just enough room for us to squeeze through. If not, the Yukon’s powerful V8 should be able to force the issue. We do just that. Cooper uses the front push bar for what it's designed for: Pushing things. The smaller, sideways pickup grinds against the asphalt but easily slides out of the way, nevertheless. It also helps that the road has a fresh coat of snow acting as a natural lubricant.
Cooper throws us into reverse and then back into drive, redirecting us through the tight space. The other two CPD SUVs follow us, and then, we’re on our way again.
“Left here,” Jill says. “Take Historic Nature Trail to the south.”
He looks to Andy, who quickly nods her agreement.
As we make the turn, I see a group of Unseen further to the west down Parkway.
“Bodies,” I say, spotting them. “They look fresh.”
“They do,” Andy agrees, nodding her head. “Those weren’t there yesterday.”
Sitting behind and diagonal from her, I watch as she reaches over her shoulder, to her radio mic. Activating it, she says, “Keep an eye out. We have company.”
Whether Farrell’s crew is still in the vicinity or not remains to be seen. Even if the bodies are less than a day old, whoever was responsible could’ve still ditched Gatlinburg and gone somewhere else. But as soon as the thought crosses my mind, the world around us is engulfed in flames.
The fire rolls from vehicle to vehicle, overwhelming the entire intersection. Even “safely” inside the Yukon, we can feel the intense heat licking at our exposed flesh. The fire is so incredibly lit that Cooper can’t decide where to go.
“Go anywhere!” Jill shouts, leaning away from the passenger door.
“Anywhere is good!” I shout, leaning into Jill. “Do that!”
We pick up speed but come to a jarring halt just as we exit the conflagration. What did we hit? I stare through the windshield and see the frontend of a garbage truck. While we were blinded, it came in to block us.
“Jack—Dom, get out of here! Scatter!”
Jack Mann and Domingo Cortez are the other drivers. Their passengers are Tara Wentz and John-Ryan McDermott. We get a pair of “Roger that’s” or something along those lines, and I watch as one of the SUVs shoots backward out of the raging inferno. The other Yukon hangs a hard right and disappears to the west.
“You forgot to mention that Farrell likes to use explosives!”
Cooper throws the SUV into reverse, following suit with what Jack did.
“Does it matter?” Andy replies, turning around.
No, it doesn’t, but I’m still pissed that I wasn’t given the whole story. Call me a prude, but I like knowing everything about the person I’m trying to hunt down and kill. Our arsonist also happens to be a practitioner of shit that goes boom!
Fucking fantastic…
“We’re taking fire!” John-Ryan shouts from behind.
“We have Unseen!” Tara adds off to our right.
Cooper takes us left, around the parked truck. As he does, we are fired upon too. There are gunmen on the rooft
ops of the stores lining both sides of the road, the Dunkin’ Donuts to our left and the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company to our right. Each has two shooters from what I can see. The bottleneck was supposed to trap us within the intersection and force us to exit our protective GMC-made cocoons. Then, we’d either be gunned down or burnt to a crisp.
Considering where we are, this attempt on our lives was well put together given the short amount of time the group had to plan it. I’m not too proud to admit that. This Farrell lady is a formidable foe for sure. We’ll have to be even more careful than I originally figured. Plus, we can’t forget about the bloodthirsty monsters, can we?
Cooper takes down one of the Unseen, using the front bumper like I told him to do. Unfortunately for us, that creature was a rare reaper. Its bladed arm drags beneath our ride and punctures one of the front tires. The tire explodes and jars Cooper’s hands from the steering wheel. In response, the Yukon darts left, right into the wall of the Dunkin’ Donuts.
“Everyone out!” I yell, popping open my door. Jill follows me, grabbing as much of our gear as she can. Cooper follows suit from up front. Andy follows Jill’s example and fills her arms. Then, the four of us rush into the front door of the famous coffee and donut shop, coughing hard as a group. The smoke, until now, had yet to assault the store’s interior.
“There goes…our ride,” I say in between hacks.
Cooper holds up the keys. “I don’t think so.”
I smile. Once we’re done here, we can change the tire and reacquire the valuable vehicle. Nowadays, owning a tough-as-nails SUV is an invaluable asset. We need as many of these things as possible, considering we have one less than we did yesterday.
Andy and Cooper take a second to compose themselves while Jill and I take up positions guarding the front of the store. It’s made entirely of glass and would be extremely easy to fire into. Both of us have our pistols drawn and aimed forward. So far, no one has attempted to rush our position.
“CPD, report,” Andy says, depressing the talk button.
“Jack and I are okay?” Tara says, breathing hard. “Had to ditch our ride, though.”
“Dom? John-Ryan?” Andy asks.
“Still taking heavy fire!” A man yells back, I’m not sure which one is speaking. “Call you back in a—”
The call turns to static.
With nothing going on, and with Cooper still coughing hard, I rush around to the side of the counter and I’m happy to see a couple of bottles of icy water still in the communal fridge. I snatch the three of them and hand Andy and Cooper one each. I toss the third one to Jill. She catches it, opens the twist top, and drains half of it.
Cooper splashes some of the water on his face, mostly his eyes. “Thanks,” he says, giving me a halfhearted thumbs up.
Andy doesn’t acknowledge me at all. She completely drains her bottle and tosses it aside. Her eyes say it all.
Thank you.
I reach for my half of the water supply and happily take it from Jill. Our fingers softly touch for just a moment. Smiling at her, I tip the bottle back and flinch when it is obliterated by gunfire. Someone else in Gatlinburg has a high-powered rifle, and they just missed my head by inches, shattering one of the front windows in the process. Tilting my chin up to take a swig of my water saved my life.
“Sniper!” Cooper shouts.
I dive to the floor and scurry around the counter. Even with our Kevlar vests on, I’m not confident they can protect us against a marksman. We still have plenty of vital areas exposed—like our heads, for one.
I realize that there are only three of us behind the front counter.
“Jill!”
“Still here,” she replies, calming some of my anxiety. “Pinned down, but alive.”
Leaning around the counter, I see what she means. Off to my right, on the northern wall of the store, is the self-serve accessories bar. It’s where, on any typical day, you’d get napkins and straws, and what-have-you. Jill is currently tucked beside it, using it as cover. Under our current circumstances, she’s a long way from safety.
I lean out further and nearly get my head taken off again. I’m starting to think it's personal… More breaking glass and echoing gunfire answers the bullet after it strikes the floor behind my head. Andy lets go of the back of my vest. I didn't feel her grab me when it all happened, she saved my life by pulling me back into cover.
I nod my thanks and readjust my stance. Instead of leaning out from behind the counter, I get into a catcher’s squat and quickly peek between the two cash registers. Luckily, one of them shields me from the gunman’s view—but it also obstructs his exact position. I can’t see past the machine.
But I can see Jill.
She’s fine—stuck—but fine.
I give her a small wave. She returns it, looking both scared and annoyed at her current predicament.
“Not to rush you guys, but if you have a plan on how to get me out of here, I’d sure appreciate it.”
Grinning, I say, “You could take your top off, you know, show him the goods?”
“That’d definitely distract me…”
Andy and I look at Cooper, who instantly turns beat red. I can’t blame the guy. It would relax me too. Then again, so would a donut. My eyes move from Cooper up to where the pastries would generally be. There’s a few of them still there, but they’re nasty looking. A handful of them seem to be growing plant matter on them.
“Anytime now!” Jill shouts.
“Working on it,” I reply.
A bullet rips into her cover, splintering the synthetic material to pieces.
Jill grunts. “Work on it faster!”
Seemingly safe, for the moment, I take a few seconds and focus on all the little things around us. The tables set up between Jill and us would make for good cover as long as they can stop a bullet. I’m not sure what the sniper is using, but I’ll bet it ain’t birdshot!
Can’t take the risk, I decide. Plus, how the hell are we going to get them into position without getting mowed down ourselves?
I move on, and eyes settle on one of the two registers. Something stupid crosses my mind. It could work, but am I willing to bet Jill’s life on it?
“Uh, Babe?”
“Yeah?” she replies.
“I might have something here.”
I hear her sigh. “Why am I sure I’m not going to like what you have to say?”
I smile. “You know me all too well.”
12
“You guys ready?” I ask, getting into position. The only thing I have on me that’s worth a damn is my holstered Glock and my combat knife. What I’m about to do, well, my bow and arrows are worth diddly poo.
I tighten the straps of my Kevlar vest and grip the top edge of the counter. The timing of everything we’re about to do is going to be incredibly important, so I wait for Andy and Cooper to signal me before I do anything rash. If I go down, everything, including my life, is over with.
Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die…
Cooper nods, gripping his cargo tight.
Andy has a similar wad in her hands too. I’m guessing a person with this type of aim, and firepower isn’t just some country bumpkin out for a stroll. I sense that the shooter is ex-military, a real-life soldier of fortune-type. There’s one thing that mercenaries covet amongst all else.
Cold, hard cash.
I take a deep breath and shout, “Make it rain!”
On either side of me, Andy and Cooper let loose with their individual payloads. Twin stacks of cash go flying into the air, and so do I.
Planting my left hand on the counter, I leap over it and draw my sidearm. Jill does the same, sliding out from behind her cover. Together, we blindly fire at the roof of the adjacent building while sidestepping around the counter and toward the back room of the donut shop.
Our plan works like a charm…until a bullet rips into my vest.
I’m thrown backward, unable to breathe. Cooper rushes up to me and immediately starts draggin
g me away from the commotion. Jill and Andy are right behind us, still firing through the absent front window.
I gasp for air.
Spots dance in my vision.
Just when I’m about to lose consciousness, a door closes, and my protective vest is ripped from my body and tossed aside. Without the added constriction, my air quickly returns, and I start to come around. Three people are huddled around me, each one of them looking completely unharmed.
Jill’s hand goes to my face, and I cover it with one of my own.
“Thanks,” I say, sucking in a deep gulp of air. I pat Cooper’s thigh a couple of times for good measure. He’s the one who pulled me to safety—and the one who relieved me of my overtightened vest.
Yeah… My bad! Next time, I’ll leave a little space for things as important as oxygen, and the ability to take it in.
“Where…are we?” I ask, feeling my ribs protest the speech. That’s going to hurt for a while.
“Storeroom,” Andy says, locking the door that leads back out to the front of the donut shop. “We can take a minute if you—”
“No,” I say, sticking out my hand. Cooper grabs it and carefully hauls me to my feet. “They’ll pin us down if we wait. We gotta move now, or we’ll be stuck in here until it’s burned to the ground with us inside.”
“You going to be okay?” Jill asks.
I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter. We need to move—now.”
They know I’m right. My bow and quiver are returned to me, and they both go on my back after I slip back into my vest. Looking ready to go, but feeling like absolute horse shit, I lead the way to the door that more than likely leads out to the loading dock.
“Hang on,” Andy says, quickly making a call. “CPD, report.”
Jack responds first. “Tara and I are okay and have taken shelter inside—an indoor putt-putt course. Got swarmed with Unseen and crashed into the front window of a nearby boutique shop. Shot our way to where we are now and have barricaded the doors.”