by Matt Hilton
Then we were past the wreck, and I floored the throttle as the other vehicles roared after us.
‘How far is it to the logging camp?’ I called back to Millie.
‘Not far now, take the next road to the left.’ Millie’s voice was as high-pitched as the children’s screams.
Next road? Where? Where?
I saw it a hundred yards ahead: a narrow track that was little more than a beaten path winding up the hillside.
You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought. We’d need a 4×4 to negotiate that trail.
But there was nothing else for it.
Bullets spanged off the minivan.
A black SUV roared up on our right, trying to cut us off, and I saw the face of the tattooed man snarling at us as he raised a shotgun. Don struggled to bring the rifle round on him, but he had it wedged, the carrying strap impeding him.
The shotgun flared, the load holing the front fender.
Thankfully he hadn’t fired at Don, but at the tyre in an attempt at stopping the van.
‘Get back.’ I leaned past the old man, my elbow against Don’s chest. I wasn’t fucking around with trying to disable their vehicle. I aimed the SIG directly at the tattooed man’s face.
Fired.
But already the man was reacting, throwing himself backwards as far as his seat would allow.
My bullet missed him, but it didn’t matter. It hit an even more viable target.
The driver of the SUV couldn’t do his job with most of his forehead missing.
Easing down on the brakes, I watched as the SUV streaked across in front of us at too sharp an angle, and I turned into the trail even as the SUV flipped and rolled in a shower of dirt and mud and shattered metal.
The trail was slick and muddy, but the minivan was sturdier than I’d first assumed. It hauled itself up the hillside, the engine moaning but not ready to give up.
Looking down the hill, I saw the last two pursuing vehicles veer off to check on their fallen comrades. Three men clambered out, rushing to the SUV, dancing around futilely as they searched for their leader among the steaming wreckage.
I’d bought us some breathing space, but they’d be coming again. At least there’d be fewer of them to contend with next time.
Chapter 17
‘Well . . . we made it.’
‘Just.’ Don added, looking at the ramshackle collection of buildings, ‘But was it worth it?’
My nod was more confident than any of us felt. ‘We’ve a better chance here than we do on the open road.’
‘We didn’t do too badly. We stopped two of them.’
‘We were incredibly lucky, that’s all,’ I said.
‘Is your glass always half-empty?’
‘My glass got shattered a long time ago.’
It was a hell of a climb up the slope but we had made it without bursting the suspension on the people carrier. Once we were off the barren hillside, the forest encroached again, but at least it offered some respite from the driving rain. I had flicked on the headlights to negotiate the gloom, and then put my foot down. The earlier opinion was still strong in my mind: the bad guys would be coming again. We had to find shelter for Millie and the children, then set Don up to cover me while I took the fight to our enemies. We wouldn’t be able to do that while dawdling on the mountain trails. We had found the abandoned logging camp ten minutes later.
Parking the van near to a decrepit cabin, I said, ‘Millie, I want you to go and check inside. See if there’s a telephone or radio. Then come and join us.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘In there.’ My nod indicated a series of huts and industrial sheds beyond a chain-link fence. The fence had drooped in places and was no real security.
‘Why not just check those huts?’ Millie asked.
‘This one is outside the compound. I’m guessing it was once a security checkpoint. If there’s a comms area, that’s the logical place to find it.’
‘I’ll go,’ Don said, shifting to open his door.
‘No.’ I gripped his wrist. ‘I need you to look after the children.’
‘I can look after the children,’ Millie said.
‘Don can handle an assault rifle – can you?’
Millie just stared for a long three seconds. Then she opened the door and slid out. Hunkered against the rain, she headed for the abandoned cabin. I drove away and through the open gate, all the while watching Millie in the mirror.
‘What was that all about?’ Don asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s pretty obvious that you wanted Millie out of the way. What’s on your mind, Hunter?’
I chewed my bottom lip for the briefest of time. ‘Not in front of the children, Don.’
There were cabins on both sides of the trail, some faring better than others in the fight against the elements. None of them had successfully held back the forest from reclaiming its territory. Undergrowth grew all the way to the walls and sometimes even inside the buildings. Further back were the large sheds, the abandoned homes of saws and winches and all the equipment necessary for a lumber operation. Ignoring the structures, I drove to the furthest corner of the sprawling encampment. There I reversed the van under a lean-to. It was concealed from anyone coming along the trail until they were adjacent with it, and I elected to leave it nose out in case we had to trust to speed and manoeuvrability to get us out of a fix a second time.
‘Grab the gun for me, will you.’ I climbed out the van. ‘And bring the children.’
‘What about Fluffy?’
Beth was cradling the tom in her arms. The tatty old cat returned my stare as though defying me to leave it behind. Maybe if I didn’t give the correct answer to the little girl, it would show me how it had earned its scars. Fluffy? Jesus, if there was ever a misnomer that was it!
The tom was a good distraction for the children, but if the time came when it became an encumbrance then I’d have to leave it behind. Except my ethos was that you never left a friend behind.
‘OK, you can bring the cat. Just make sure he stays quiet.’
‘He’s always quiet,’ Ryan said.
The little boy was right. I’d never heard the cat as much as miaow in the time it had been in the van with us. ‘Do you think that the two of you can be as quiet as Fluffy?’
Beth and Ryan smiled up at me, nodding and blinking down on tears. It made my heart ache and I turned away quickly.
Don slung me a rifle.
I turned to make a reconnaissance of the area, but Don grabbed my wrist this time.
‘What did you mean? Not in front of the children?’
‘Not now, Don. We’ll talk about this once we’ve secured the place.’
Don turned and searched for Millie. When he turned back, his face was like stone. ‘You never had children, did you, Hunter?’
That was one of the reasons why Diane and I had split. There was nothing left to bind us together. As much as we’d loved each other, it hadn’t been enough to span the gulf that grew between us after I left my unit. I’d tried to turn my back on the past, but inexorably I’d been pulled back into a world of violence where Diane didn’t want to follow. Hector and Paris, our beloved German Shepherds, had been as close to children as we’d had. Diane and her new husband, Simon, kept them. I missed my dogs, and if the truth be known, I missed the children we’d never had.
‘I’ll do anything to protect my family,’ Don went on. ‘I’ll take down any man who tries to harm them.’
We locked gazes for a long breath. Finally I nodded curtly. Point taken. ‘Take the little ones inside and try to get them settled. I’m going to need you out here.’ I paused again, thinking hard. ‘Just forget what I said, OK?’
‘Might not be that easy.’
Shit, and after we’d just buried the hatchet.
‘Get the kids settled. Make sure that no one can see them, then get back out here.’ I lowered my voice conspiratorially. ‘Then we can talk about how we intend kill
ing these bastards who want to murder your family.’ I walked away before the old man could argue.
I headed down the centre of the road, holding the assault rifle across my body. If the bad guys were here already, better that they zeroed in on me rather than the others. As I walked, I thought about the short discourse I’d just had with Don Griffiths. To say that Don had overreacted was the least of it. I’d only intended planning our strategy for taking out our pursuers without the kids overhearing. Christ, they were traumatised enough without listening to their grandfather plotting the deaths of others.
Don had thrown a curve ball that I hadn’t been ready for. What the hell had he thought I’d meant? More questions to add to those I already wanted answering. I needed to sit down for a real heart-to-heart with Don. But now wasn’t the time. Our window of opportunity was very limited and none of it must be wasted. It was enough that I knew the men after us were determined, and reckless enough, to try anything. For now, I didn’t have to worry about the why, only about the how I was going to stop them.
I scanned the layout of the buildings, the high mountains surrounding them, the only vehicle access in and out of the compound. Next time they came the bad guys would have to do it on foot, whether they liked it or not. There was a ridge up on the hill to the west. If my friend Rink was positioned up there with a rifle, then he could stop a full military convoy from making its way into the camp. The attackers would be forced to decamp from their vehicles, and I would be waiting for them in the woods. I smiled grimly at the thought. But the smile was short-lived. Rink was back in Florida, oblivious of our plight. For how long, though? Would Rink recognise my failure to check in as a sign that I was in trouble? Of course he would, but not yet. Shit, despite everything that had happened so far, I’d barely been in Pennsylvania for twelve hours.
Rink wouldn’t be coming yet. Don would have to do. I just wasn’t certain that the old man had the skills to take out the leading vehicle.
Up ahead a figure moved through the drifting rain. Millie had hunched over and kept close to the buildings, having the sense not to walk out in the open as I did. Quickly I moved to intercept her.
‘Anything?’
Millie blinked rain from her lashes.
‘Nothing. You want me to keep checking?’
‘No.’ Taking Millie by her arm, I led her into the lee of one of the cabins. Maybe now wasn’t the time for this, but I was afraid I wouldn’t get another opportunity. Millie shivered against the cold, her clothing not much defence against the mountain winter. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘I want to speak to you where the kids can’t overhear us.’
She tilted her head away, and through the conduit of her arm I felt her shiver even more. ‘What about?’
I didn’t want to say as such, but I wasn’t going to lie to her. ‘There’s a possibility that none of us will make it out of here alive.’
‘I know,’ she said, and it was a struggle for her to hold the tears back.
I pulled her in close and held her. ‘Believe me,’ I said, ‘I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that you and the little ones stay safe. Only there are no guarantees.’
Millie closed her eyes, then surprisingly she leaned against my chest. ‘I know you’ll try your best.’
I held my breath. I thought about Brook and how maybe if I had come sooner then this could have been stopped before it escalated into this nightmare scenario. Deep inside though, I knew that wasn’t the case. This had always been out of my hands. All that was left to me now was to try to end it without any further innocents perishing. It seemed like Millie had just realised that too. ‘I’m sorry about the way I’ve treated you, Joe. You were never to blame for what happened to Brook. I see that now . . .’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ I said. ‘I didn’t take it personally.’
She raised her head, and her eyes twinkled up at me. She was smiling, the first time I’d seen her do so, and she looked so damn pretty like that. I bent and planted a kiss on her forehead. Chaste, like she was my little sister.
‘What was that for?’ she asked.
‘Just felt like the right thing to do,’ I said, ‘now that we’re friends again.’
Her smile never slipped, but her eyes began to soften. The difference this time was that her tears were born of something other than grief or anger. There was hope, so at least I’d achieved what I had set out to do. Before her mind could be changed again, I patted her on the shoulder and set her on her way. She only made it a few steps.
‘Wait, Millie!’
She turned to look back at me.
‘Here,’ I said, shrugging out of the coat loaned from Don. ‘I don’t want you freezing to death.’
She accepted the coat and slipped into its warmth. The sleeves trailed and the hem came to her knees. She looked like a little girl playing dress-up, except her next question was anything but childlike: ‘Do you really think any of us will live long enough to worry about the cold?’
‘Maybe not,’ I admitted. I smiled at the irony and she returned the gesture. Then she headed off to the far end of the camp.
I looked towards the front gate. My glass got broken a long time ago. Under my breath, I muttered, ‘There are no guarantees . . . but I’ll be damned if I’m going to make it easy for the bastards.’
Chapter 18
Gant was pulled bleeding from the wreckage of the SUV. He was hurt, but alive. His breathing was steady enough, and there was nothing to indicate that beyond the cuts and bruises there was anything life-threatening. He just wasn’t ready to wake up yet.
The three able-bodied men carried him away from the smouldering crash scene and lay him across the back seat of one of the undamaged cars. One of them, a small, wiry man who moved with the jerkiness of a bird or someone high on amphetamine, left Gant in the care of his friends and went to check on Vince. He could see the young hillbilly standing alongside the Ford, his hands scrubbing at his hair. Messing with his goddamn pompadour, the man thought, like it mattered a fuck what he looked like.
‘What’re you doin’ fuckin’ about over here, Vinnie?’
Vince turned to him, a dazed expression on his face, still sculpting his hair. No, that wasn’t it, the bird-like man saw; Vinnie was picking bits of broken glass and splinters of wood out of his scalp. He’d also been looking down on the still form of his girlfriend who was twisted in a way that wasn’t normal.
‘Is she dead, Vinnie?’
Vince blinked again at the jumble of clothing and oddly angled limbs. ‘I sure as hell hope so, Darley. Would you want to live, lookin’ all screwed up like that?’
Vince bent down and extended a finger to touch Sonya’s face. It felt like putty, the rain wiping any trace of warmth from her skin. Absurdly, Vince hooked her chain with his finger, tried unsuccessfully to insert it back into the ruin of her nose. The silver links immediately slid away and pooled alongside her ear, along with a slow trickle of blood.
Vince gave a dull groan as he stood up. But that was as far as his show of grief could go. Maybe he should have been more vocal; Sonya had meant an awful lot to him – as far as any one ever could to someone with Vince Everett’s twisted sense of attachment to other human beings. But the single moan was all he had. This was, after all, the response expected of a man who’d blasted his grandfather’s head off when the old man caught him with his hands in the cash register. Vince hadn’t missed the old fart after he was gone, and certainly hadn’t cried for him as Gramps had been lowered into the ground.
‘You OK, Vinnie?’
‘But for one thing,’ Vince said. ‘Wish I’d pulled over on the road like she wanted.’
Darley didn’t get it. He searched for wounds on the young man’s frame. Apart from some scratches on his face Vince looked unhurt. The scratches weren’t even bleeding, and Darley wondered when Vince had picked them up. The bird-like head jerked, staring back at the Ford. The front right fender was bashed in, but that was about all. He looked ba
ck at the torn body of the woman like things just didn’t correlate.
Vince said, ‘She was hanging out the window trying to shoot Griffiths when we hit. Goddamn fool’s trick, but there was no tellin’ her.’
‘Ain’t women all the same?’ Darley said.
‘Nah,’ Vince said. ‘Not many like Sonya. She was a free spirit, that one. I’ll miss her.’
There was no emotion in his voice, like he was just going through the motions, saying what was expected, so it surprised Darley when the young man bent down and rearranged the woman’s limbs. It took him a moment to realise that Vince wasn’t ceremoniously laying her out; he was searching for something beneath her corpse. Vince finally stood up, clutching the Glock that had been wedged under her hip. The gun was smeared with dirt and also some of the woman’s blood. Vince wiped it clean on her tartan miniskirt.
Even Darley, who didn’t care for anyone who wasn’t in their immediate clique – and he counted both Vince and Sonya outside of that description – frowned at Vince’s coldness.
‘Might need this piece before we’re finished,’ Vince told him. ‘In fact, this was Sonya’s gun. I intend using it when I put a hole in Don Griffiths’ skull.’
‘You think we’re still going through with it? I mean, it’s been a goddamn shambles up till now. Gant’s hurt an’—’
‘Gant’s a goddamn fool. He shoulda handled this differently than the fuckin’ ridiculous way he has.’
Darley’s head jerked, almost like he expected their unconscious boss-man to hear them from all the way across here. ‘Vinnie, man, you shouldn’t be talkin’ like that. If he hears you . . .’
‘I don’t give a motherfucking hoot what that Nazi hears.’
‘He’s the one that’s paying you,’ Darley reminded him.
Vince looked down on Sonya. ‘This ain’t about the money no more. It’s about the freakin’ waste of a good gal. That won’t sit too well with Adolf over there, but that’s the way it’s gonna be.’
‘Gant’s the boss, man. You know he’s the voice of Carswell Hicks out here.’