by Matt Hilton
I gave the minivan throttle and raced it along the drive, twin fans of seashells marking its progress like spume on waves. Then we’d got as far as the gate on to the mountain road.
‘Holy God,’ Don muttered under his breath. ‘I think we’re going to make it!’
‘Not yet.’ I swung the wheel to the left, away from the relative safety of Bedford Well or the city of Hertford.
On the road, I accelerated away.
Still the minivan wasn’t moving fast enough to avoid the Ford Focus rear-ending it.
The collision forced the minivan to fishtail and I had to fight the wheel to keep us going straight. I won the battle, glancing in the rear-view mirror.
Fuck, I thought, as I recognised the pompadour of the Ford’s driver, the spiky hair of his passenger. I also recalled my dark humour when first I’d noticed the oddball couple outside Don’s house. Maybe I should have killed you after all.
Chapter 15
Having had a good idea where Millie was headed, Vince had thought it best to fall back and allow plenty of distance between them. On the mountain roads, there was very little traffic and the car would stand out, anonymous as it was. No hurry, he’d told Sonya. But there was. He knew that Gant and the others were already in place around Adrian Reynolds’ house, and it was imperative he got there before things kicked off.
Sonya had suggested pulling over, having a little fun before joining the others. Chances were that once things got underway they’d be too busy for fooling around. Except Vince wasn’t up for it. To keep her happy he’d reached across to her but she’d slapped his hands away.
‘Offer’s gone, lover boy. We don’t want to, like, miss anything, do we?’ she said.
‘Suppose not,’ Vince replied gloomily. He sighed dramatically to cover his relief, and caught a pout from Sonya.
Thinking to appease him, she laid a hand in his crotch as he drove.
‘As much as I like that, babe, maybe you’d better fill your hand with something else.’
‘I’ve small hands, isn’t it full enough?’ she asked with a gleam in her eye.
‘I hear you, babe, but I’m serious . . .’ He nodded towards the back seat and Sonya twisted round so she could haul the knapsack on to her lap. She unzipped it and tugged out the first of two Glock 19s. Inside the bag were extra magazines and she expertly inserted one into the butt of the gun, racked the slide to arm it, then flicked on the safety. She repeated the process and dropped a gun between Vince’s thighs. He whistled.
‘Easy, babe, you could have shot off my dick.’
‘I’d have to be a better shot than I am to hit that teeny-weeny thing,’ she smiled.
‘Think you could hit a car?’ he asked.
Sonya followed his gaze, watching open-mouthed as a pale blue minivan roared out of a driveway ahead. It was like the vehicles that soccer moms drive, loads of seats in the back to cart around a horde of children. She recognised Don Griffiths in the front passenger seat before the minivan spun away from them.
‘Shee-it,’ Vince yelled. ‘Looks like Gant’s blown it, big time.’
He pressed the gas pedal, and raced after the minivan. With momentum on his side, he caught up with it in seconds, rear-ending the heavier vehicle. Coloured glass bounced up the windscreen of the Ford as the van’s rear lights shattered, but the van absorbed the collision, then powered away.
Sonya looked left, saw the flames and the smoke around the Reynolds household. ‘Can’t believe they started without us . . .’
‘You know Gant,’ Vince snorted. ‘Never was the patient type.’
‘Do you think he’d want us to stop them?’
Vince raised his eyebrows, puffed out air.
He rammed the pedal to the floor, pushing the Ford on. ‘That’s why we’re here, babe.’
Sonya bounced up and down in her seat in her eagerness to get started. She pressed buttons, lowering her window and leaning out. Wind battered her making her spiky hair dance like Medusa’s snakes. She squinted, but that only helped her aim the Glock. She’d been joking a moment ago: she was actually a damn fine shot.
Twice she fired at the back of the minivan. Both bullets struck metal. She heard corresponding screams even over the roaring engines.
‘Easy, gal, we just want to stop them.’
Sonya glanced inside the Ford. Stop them? She wanted to kill them all.
‘Not much fun if they’re all chewed up in a wreck,’ Vince explained.
‘Dead’s dead, whatever way you look at it,’ Sonya said, firing again. This time she aimed so that she blasted a mirror off the side of the car. Basically she was showing off.
‘Yeah, and Gant will kill us if he doesn’t get a chance to—’
Vince stepped on the brakes.
From a side track, concealed until the very last moment by the trees, came a black van. It roared out of hiding, bouncing up on to the road directly in front of the minivan. At this speed the two vehicles would be smashed to pieces, and then the Ford would join them. Vince spun the wheel. Better that they hit side-on than plough right into the wreckage. Sonya was caught by the centrifugal force and almost plucked out of the window, but Vince grabbed at her with one hand, snaring an ankle. With his other hand he wrestled with the steering. If they hit, Sonya would be squashed like a bug. If he let go, she’d tumble out of the Ford, go under the wheels and be squashed all the same. It was way too soon in the proceedings for that.
It was almost a blessing when he saw the minivan swerve off the road and on to the verge. Its tyres dug into the rain-drenched earth, throwing up clumps of dirt and grass. Branches from the overhanging trees scored new lines in the paintwork. Then it was past the front of the black van and had swerved back on to the road. Vince kept his hand down on the wheel and the Ford pirouetted in the road, forces almost beyond his control trying to yank Sonya to her death. Finally, a full one-eighty from where he’d been headed, the Ford screeched to a halt. Its back bumper nudged the idling van.
Sonya clambered back inside, her eyes like twin moons. She was shivering with the excitement of the last few seconds. ‘Like, Holy Jesus, Vince! What a ride that was!’
‘You OK, babe?’ Vince was trembling almost as hard as the girl.
‘Freakin’-A, baby! Let’s do it again.’
Vince leaned out of his window, craning round to see. A face at the passenger side of the black van blinked back at him in surprise. Goddamn skinhead assholes, Vince thought. The idiots that Gant had brought in were even stupider than Rooster. Repeatedly he slapped a hand on the door of the car. ‘Move that goddamn piece of shit, you moron. They’re getting away!’
The passenger conveyed the message to the driver – another of Gant’s boot boys. When he looked back, he repeated the driver’s reply: ‘Who ya calling morons, Vince?’
‘Just get the fuck outa my way,’ Vince snapped. He jammed the car into gear, spinning it in the road and on to the verge that the minivan had churned up. As he powered past the front of the black van Sonya leaned out the window, giving the two skinheads the middle finger.
When she slipped back inside, she bounced a few times on the seat. ‘Why are we working with these clowns anyway?’
‘ ’Cause Gant said we should.’
Sonya frowned. ‘Gant can barely lick his lips without drooling, let alone say anything sensible.’
Vince shrugged his shoulders. Then he glanced at his girl. ‘Trust me, babe, it’s just the way it’s gotta be.’
‘Fair enough, but if any of those, like, wieners with ears gets in our way again, they’re going to be sorry.’
‘I’m with you, honey cakes. But right now, we’d better catch the family. If they get away Gant won’t be pleased.’
‘To hell with him. Why’s he the boss? You’re, like, ten times the man he’ll ever be.’
Vince didn’t reply. Let Sonya say what she wanted, but he wasn’t going to mention anything that might get back to Gant before he was ready. He knew what that would bring him: his head
handed to him on a plate.
He concentrated on catching the minivan. Whoever was driving – Vince guessed it was the stranger with the killer’s eyes – was doing an expert job of it and it wouldn’t be easy. He looked in his mirrors, saw that the black van was following, and from concealment further down the road, other vehicles were joining the pursuit. Gant and the others were coming fast.
The minivan was a hundred yards ahead but the gap was closing. Sonya leaned out of the window, fired a volley at the tyres. Vince didn’t comment, but the likelihood of puncturing a tyre at this range and this angle was next to zero; if they were alongside with a shotgun maybe, but not from behind with a handgun. Vince looked for his own gun. Miraculously after the spin the Ford had completed, the gun was still between his thighs. He picked it up and wedged it out his window. Left-handed he’d hit nothing viable, but at least he could lay down enough firepower to keep them moving in the right direction. He fired a half-dozen rounds, saw that, despite the jouncing of the car and the distance, most of them did strike the metalwork.
The minivan swerved, then straightened. Its forward momentum was disrupted and the Ford gained another twenty yards.
‘Get ready, babe, I’m gonna try and get alongside them.’
Sonya slapped in a fresh magazine. ‘Do that and I’ll take the driver out.’
‘No,’ Vince said. ‘Do that and they’ll roll. We don’t want ’em all to die.’
‘Yeah, we do. What’s wrong with you, Vince? Lost your sense of fun?’
‘Just do as I ask, babe. We want to stop the van. Shoot by all means, but don’t shoot—’
‘The brats? Gant said that they all have to die. Are you calling the shots after all, Vince?’
Vince frowned. He wasn’t going to mention the kids. After a second or so, he said, ‘I was gonna say “the driver”. Don’t shoot the driver.’
Sonya looked at him. Her face had gone very still. ‘No, you weren’t.’
Vince flicked a self-conscious smile. Busted, he thought.
Sonya snorted. ‘You don’t want me to shoot Millie. You want that bitch all to yourself.’
Vince touched the claw marks on his face, said, ‘Can you blame me?’
She shrugged, sucked her nose chain between her teeth. All coy again, she grinned. ‘As long as I get to do the children, Vince, I don’t care. I’ve never killed a brat before.’
Chapter 16
Trees flashed by, twin walls of greens and browns and everything in between. The road surface was asphalt, but the further we progressed it became ill maintained and was warped and rutted. Compounding the difficulty of controlling the vehicle on the damaged road surface was that the rain was growing heavier, forming pools and deep channels that sucked at the tyres and almost threw them out of line. Heavy droplets battered the windscreen, and it was a fight the wipers could barely win. The bullets fired at us added to the effort of keeping the minivan on track and at a steady speed.
I didn’t complain, just tried to stay focused on the road ahead. Even a momentary distraction would be enough to send the vehicle into a roll that would do the job for those trying to kill Don Griffiths and his family. If anything the bad road and the rain were allies: they meant those following couldn’t be too reckless either.
After almost ramming into the black van, and being forced to take diversionary tactics, I’d just kept going. I’d no idea where we were or where the road would lead to. Both Don and Millie had been unhelpful with directions, concentrating instead on calming and consoling the children. It wasn’t an easy task with bullets ricocheting off the vehicle. At least the shooting had slowed over the last few minutes, and the only thing coming our way now was an occasional round fired in frustration.
It felt a little compromising, sitting in the driver’s position. Normally I used a car with the steering wheel on the right, but this being an American car it was on the opposite side. I could shoot with my left hand, but nowhere near as well as with the right. Along the way I’d juggled the assault rifle over my shoulder, passing it back to Millie so that I’d have room to use the SIG if it became necessary. For now I concentrated on driving.
Beside me, Don finally settled back into his seat. Millie had the children under control, and she’d got them to crouch down between the seats to afford them a little more protection. She lay across the back seat, keeping her head down, but also so that she could touch both children to help comfort them.
I checked the mirrors – the ones that hadn’t been shot off – and saw that four vehicles were doggedly on our tail. The black van had been left behind somewhere along the way. Either that or it had cut down one of the forest trails to try to intercept us further on. That hardly seemed possible, seeing as the road we were on had stretched arrow-straight for the last couple miles. Even as I thought it, though, I saw warning signs showing a series of bends ahead. Also, we were beginning to climb.
‘Where does this road lead to?’
Don shook his head. ‘No idea. I’ve never come this way before. I’ve never had a reason to.’
From the back, Millie said, ‘I’ve been out this way. Me and Brook used to come up here hiking.’
‘So what can we expect?’ I asked.
‘The road climbs up into the mountains. There used to be logging camps up there, but they’ve all shut down. There’s a hydro-electricity plant further on, but the road ends there.’
‘Is the plant manned?’
‘I don’t know. I imagine it is, but we never got that far, I’ve only seen it from a distance.’
The plant sounded like our best hope of help. At the very least I might be able to force an office door and get to a telephone. ‘How far?’
‘Twenty miles, maybe more.’
Forget that plan then. At this rate it would take us twenty minutes to get there. Those pursuing us wouldn’t wait so long to make their next move.
‘We’ll have to chance one of the logging camps.’
‘They’re closed,’ Millie reminded me.
‘There could still be a telephone hooked up, or a radio or something.’ In truth I wasn’t thinking about phones; I was looking for somewhere that I could mount a defence. Maybe a logging camp would offer hiding places for the children while I could take the fight back to the pack hunting us. I decided that giving the family hope of rescue would stop them from further panic. I met Don’s eye. The old man knew what I was thinking. He busied himself with the assault rifle, getting ready to help if a last stand was unavoidable.
‘Long time since you’ve held one of those, I bet,’ I said.
‘I’d be happier if I never had to handle one ever again. But now that things are looking inevitable . . . well, I’ll do the best I can.’
I touched the old man on the forearm. ‘I know you will.’
There’d been bad blood between the two of us, but just like me, Don had no real control over the decisions of our superiors. Don’s intelligence had caused the deaths of innocents, but he couldn’t be held responsible for the bullets spewed from ill-guided weapons. I saw that now and knew that my enmity shouldn’t be directed at him, but at our controllers at Arrowsake. It was time to put our differences aside.
Don nodded solemnly at my words. He got their meaning. He opened his mouth to speak, to maybe explain how things had gone so wrong.
‘Just leave it be, Don. It’s enough that it’s behind us now, OK?’ What I really wanted to understand was who our pursuers were, and why they were so determined to kill Don’s entire family. But now wasn’t the time for that either.
Up ahead, the forest had been felled back all the way up the slopes, the hills bare of cover. Rain sheeted across the valley like billowing smoke. The road looked like it had been widened here, possibly to accommodate large machinery, and there was a broad area of hard-packed dirt on one side. A portable cabin once used as a control hub for the worksite had been abandoned. It listed severely to one side where the elements had done their best to wipe it from the landscape, and weeds and
brush had sprung up around its base. It was poor cover, and the chances of a working phone or radio inside were nil.
Behind us the vehicles were revving into action, seeing the opening as their best chance for corralling the minivan between them. They were more powerful vehicles than ours and we’d no hope of outrunning them now. From the Ford the spiky-haired woman leaned out the window so that she could get a clear shot. The Ford veered right, swinging on to the hard-pack so that she could fire at Don.
‘Everyone get down,’ I said stiffly.
Don didn’t have much hope for concealment; he was way too bulky to scrunch down in the front seat. Instead, he swung the assault rifle out of the window. It was an awkward angle, and he had to hold the gun wedged under his opposite armpit. He fired off a short burst, but he had more chance of hitting the moon than he did the Ford.
From the back seat the children’s cries were plaintive and I felt a pang in my heart.
This is not right, I thought, it’s just not right.
Let these bastards come after me and Don, fair enough. I could accept that. But to endanger the children was supremely wrong. It was both cruel and cowardly.
Rage flooded through me like an icy tide.
‘Millie,’ I said. ‘Get the children to cover their ears and close their eyes. Things are about to get scary.’
No sooner had I said it than I slammed on the brakes.
Taken by surprise, the driver of the Ford was slow to react and the car flew past, the woman missing the opportunity to shoot Don. Don twisted the gun, propping it against the door frame and rattled off another short burst. Silver-edged craters appeared in the metal body of the Ford and the car skidded away as the driver took evasive action.
The cabin was now dead in line with the Ford, and I watched as the driver tore at the steering. The Ford clipped the back corner of the cabin, blasting through rotting boards and finishing the job started by the elements. The cabin twisted with the impact and came apart. Wood and dust flew everywhere. The Ford spun out, and it hadn’t survived the impact undamaged. Bits of plastic and metal joined the flying detritus. Steam erupted from the engine and blocked any view of its occupants.