by David Yates
He went back downstairs, taking out his cell phone. He dialed Manny.
"What's up?” Manny answered.
"He's gone,” Braden said.
"What do you mean, gone?” Manny asked.
"Just gone. He's not here anymore. The house is empty. No furniture, nothing."
Manny exhaled loudly. “Any sign of where he went? Any mail, papers, anything?"
"Nope,” Braden answered. “They really cleaned the place out when they left."
"Well, what do you want to do, kiddo?” Manny asked.
"I'm going back to the hotel,” Braden said. “I'll be back there after I get some rest. In the meantime, do that voodoo that you do so well. Find him, Manny."
"Okay, I'll get on it, but don't expect any miracles,” Manny replied.
Braden was awakened by the insistent ringing of his cell phone. He dragged himself out of a deep sleep and groped for the phone on the night stand. He opened it and put it to his ear. Before he could make words form around his tongue, Manny said, “Braden, we've got trouble."
The edge in Manny's voice caused Braden to come fully awake. He sat up in bed and said, “What's wrong?"
"They got Sam,” Manny said.
Her face swam into Braden's mind, and his heart sank. “Is she dead?"
"I don't know,” Manny replied. “I don't think so. They took her."
"How did it happen?” Braden asked.
"She went to the store just down the road from where we are. She was gone much longer than I expected her to be. I got an email on her PDA from a guy named Silas. I presume he works for Anson. The email said they would kill her if we didn't give ourselves up."
Braden's mind was racing. “How long ago did you get the email?"
"Just a couple of minutes ago,” Manny said. “I called you right away."
Braden inhaled sharply and let it out. “All right. I'm on my way now.” He hung up the phone. He jumped out of bed, dressed quickly, and traveled back to the RV without checking out of the hotel.
Braden appeared outside the RV and immediately went inside. Manny was seated at his station, and Archer was sitting on the sofa. Braden plopped down into the chair next to Manny. “You got anything yet?” he asked.
Manny shook his head. “I'm trying to trace the source of the email now, but I'm running into a brick wall. I think I can find it, but it's gonna take some time."
Braden nodded wearily. Manny took one look at him and said, “You're all done in. You need some rest."
Braden said, “No, I need to be ready when you find them."
"Which is precisely why you need to sleep. You're no good to Sam or to any of us in your current state.” He looked past Braden at Archer. “Doc, put him to bed."
Archer was already rising to his feet. He took Braden's arm and pulled him up. “Come on, you're going to bed now,” he said.
Braden allowed himself to be led, but turned back to Manny. “You wake me up when you find anything.” It was not a request.
Manny nodded. “Okay, I will. Now go."
Archer led Braden to the bedroom and watched as he fell into the bed. He was asleep in less than ten seconds.
Braden awoke without assistance. It was dark outside. He looked at the bedside clock and saw that he had been asleep for more than eight hours. He rose quickly and went to the front of the RV. Manny and Archer were both asleep. Archer was lying on the sofa, and Manny was hunched over his keyboard. Braden put a gentle hand on Manny's shoulder.
Manny's head rose and he looked around, as if he didn't know where he was. He got his bearings quickly and his eyes came into focus. He looked at Braden apologetically. “Sorry. I must have dozed off."
"It's all right,” Braden said. “Were you able to come up with anything?"
Manny ran a hand across his face. “No, not yet.” He looked down at the desk and saw Sam's PDA. There was an email waiting. He snatched it up and opened the email. Braden hunched over the small screen and they read it together.
Her time is running out. Reply to this email and give your location. If we do not hear from you by midnight, she dies. It was signed Silas.
Braden slammed his hand on the desktop. He glanced up at the clock. 9:50 pm. He felt the time bleeding away. “Manny, we've got to find her."
Archer came up behind Braden and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. “What's going on?"
Braden said, “We have a midnight deadline. They're going to kill her if we don't tell them where we are."
"Why haven't they found us already?” Archer asked. “I mean, they got Sam just down the road."
Manny said, “They don't know specifically where we are. But you can bet they've been searching the area ever since they took her. If we sit here long enough, they'll find us."
Braden headed for the driver's seat. “Then we'd better move,” he said as he started the engine.
As Braden guided the RV onto the road, Manny asked, “Braden, do you know where the USB cord is for Sam's PDA?"
"Yes,” he replied. “It's in the bedroom, in the night stand drawer."
"Go get it,” Manny said to Archer.
As Archer headed for the bedroom, Braden asked Manny, “What have you got in mind?"
"I'm going to give them what they want,” Manny said. “I'm going to reply to their email."
Braden glanced over his shoulder. Manny was grinning. “What?” Braden asked.
Archer returned and handed the USB cord to Manny. He said, “I'm going to hook up Sam's PDA to my computer, and I'm going to reply to the email. When my reply is sent, I should be able to follow my email directly to them."
Braden nodded slowly. “Will that work?"
"I guess we'll find out,” Manny answered. He linked the PDA to his computer and used the stylus to click “Reply” on the open email. He typed the following message:
Will accede to your demand if we can be assured that Sam is still alive.
He clicked “Send", and the message was on its way. He then turned to his computer and followed the message.
After several seconds of silence, Braden couldn't stand it anymore. He called back over his shoulder, “Well?"
Manny muttered, “Just a sec...there's a block but I think I can get around it...just one hot minute...” Braden heard clicking and typing behind him. Manny continued to mutter, mostly under his breath. Then Braden heard, “Got ‘em!"
Braden whipped the RV into a self-serve gas station and slammed on the brakes. He was out of the driver's seat almost before the wheels stopped rolling. He ran the few feet to Manny's station and said, “Where?"
"Hang on; I'm crossing GPS coordinates with a map location...” Manny said. A map popped up on his monitor. “Here,” Manny pointed triumphantly at a black dot on the map. “That's where they are."
Braden glanced at the map, memorizing it instantly. He grabbed his cell phone and stuck it in his pocket. “How far are they from here?"
Manny checked his screen again. “Looks like about twelve miles from our current position."
"All right, I'm gone.” Before anyone had a chance to respond, Braden drew his weapons and faded away.
Braden faded in behind a small stand of trees. A short distance away, he saw what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Most of the windows were broken, and there were weeds growing in profusion in the narrow grass strip along the side of the building. Through the large open bay door he could see movement inside. Several vehicles were parked near the door, and there were nine or ten men milling about just outside.
Braden looked along the side of the building. He saw closed doors marching down the length of the building at regular intervals of about fifty feet. He looked back at the bay door and thought, well, everybody's gotta die of something. He took a deep breath and traveled.
He appeared out of nothingness between the bay door and the corner of the building. No less than four of the men outside saw him appear. They shouted and raised their weapons, confident in their strength of numbers despite w
hat they had been told about this Wonder Kid. They were certain that a single adversary was no match for them, and thus reassured, they marched head first to their deaths.
Braden opened fire with both guns and mowed them down. He fired ten times in rapid succession, and every bullet found its target. Ten men went from alive to dead in the space of four seconds.
Braden dropped his magazines and reloaded. He heard the pounding of many feet approaching the open door. He steeled himself and stepped around the corner, his guns singing their songs again. Men dropped before his bullets with flat, mail sack thuds. The sound of his guns resounded from the walls of the voluminous warehouse, the sharply-honed muscle memory assuming command of his hands. Not a single round was wasted, and not a single assailant escaped the wrath of his deadly hands. When the slides locked to the rear Braden knelt and reloaded, and his reload was as sneaky fast as his draw. Then he was on his feet again, the guns thundering in the dimly-lit warehouse. He fired until there was nothing left to fire at.
His guns finally silenced, Braden gazed sharply through the hanging gunsmoke. At the other end of the warehouse, he saw several men getting into a van. The doors slammed, and the van raced toward the door at the opposite end of the warehouse, tires squealing. It exited the warehouse and careened to the right, passing out of Braden's sight.
Braden turned and sprinted for the door at his end of the building, dropping his magazines and reloading as he ran. He went out the door and turned left, running to the same side of the building that the van had turned toward. He reached the corner of the building and turned left. The van was racing toward him and accelerating rapidly. It was still about two hundred yards away when Braden stepped into its path, raising his guns.
The driver had apparently had enough of Braden for one night. He threw the van into a sideways skid. The van rocked up on the right-side wheels, threatening to tip over. At the last second, gravity decided to favor the van and it settled back on all four wheels. The van spun around and headed back where it had come from. Braden held his fire out of a growing certainty that Sam was in the van. He felt drained and didn't know if he had enough juice left to travel into the van, but as he watched the van getting farther and farther away, he knew he had to try. He crouched down, crossing his guns over his chest, and traveled.
He was a bit surprised to find himself in the back of the van, behind the rearmost seat. He looked forward and counted the occupants of the van. Five, including the driver. He peeked over the rear seat and saw Sam lying trussed up on the floor. She had obviously been worked over a little, but seemed to be okay. She saw Braden peeking over the seat and nodded to him. Braden nodded back and held a gun across his lips. Shhh.
The driver looked in his rearview mirror and saw Braden's head sticking up behind the rear seat. He cried out and slammed on the brakes. The van came to a screeching halt, and Braden brought his guns to bear on the five men. One of them started to raise his weapon, but the man in the front passenger seat, a large man with a shaved dome, said, “No! Everyone stand down!"
"A wise choice,” Braden said. “Now, I want to hear weapons hitting the floor. Do it."
Braden heard the thud of five weapons as they were dropped. “I want to see hands right now,” he said. Five pairs of empty hands went into the air. Braden used the gun in his right hand to nudge the man nearest him in the center seat. The gun tickled the nape of the man's neck. He jumped and let out a girlish squeal.
"Open the door,” Braden ordered. The man reached slowly and opened the side door of the van. “Now, slide out slowly, and if I lose sight of either hand you will cease to exist. Move."
The man slid slowly across the seat and stepped outside. Braden nudged the next one, who was at least man enough not to squeal. “Now you,” Braden said. The man followed his companion out the door.
"Next,” Braden said, and the third man occupying the center seat slid out. “Now you, driver. Open the door and get out slowly. Walk to the front of the van and face away from me. Remember to keep those hands up."
The driver glanced at his boss in the passenger seat. Braden fired a round through the roof. “MOVE!” he yelled, and the driver moved. When the driver was standing in front of the van, Braden turned his attention to the leader in the front passenger seat. “Okay, you. Cue ball. Same as your buddy. Open the door and get out, slow and easy."
The passenger door opened and the man slid out. He moved to the front of the van and stood next to the driver.
Braden moved quickly around the rear seat. He used his knife to cut Sam's bonds, keeping an eye on the five men outside. “Can you drive?” he whispered.
She nodded. “I think so."
"All right,” Braden said, “get in the driver's seat and wait."
Braden stepped out of the van and ordered the three men there to join the other two at the front of the van. He followed them and ordered them to lie down. The four subordinates complied, but the large, bald man stood where he was, hands raised. They eyed each other, and something clicked into place in Braden's mind.
"Silas, I presume,” Braden said. The bald man nodded once in assent.
Braden glanced at the van and saw Sam sitting behind the wheel. The engine still idled. Braden looked back at Silas.
"I want you to take a message back to your boss. Tell him I'm coming for him. Tell him I won't stop until one of us is dead."
"He feels the same way,” Silas said. He smiled at Braden.
Braden continued as if Silas had never spoken. “Tell him the best thing he can do right now is to go ahead and dig himself a grave. Tell him I have no respect for a man who would threaten to kill his own daughter."
Silas must have seen the smoldering rage in Braden's eyes. He didn't smile this time, and replied simply, “I'll see that he gets the message."
Braden moved to the passenger door of the van. Just before he got in, Silas said, “I'll be seeing you."
Braden froze and glared at Silas. The big man glared back. In a voice that was like chipped ice, Braden said, “God help you if you do."
Sam guided the van onto the road and followed Braden's direction to the RV. Braden's eyes were all over her. She had cuts and bruises on her face, and there were angry red marks where the ropes had cut into the skin of her wrists. Seeing her like that fueled Braden's anger even more.
"Are you all right?” he asked her. He reached out and touched her cheek.
She took his hand in hers and held it against her body. “I am now,” she replied.
They drove most of the way in a comfortable silence. When they arrived back at the RV, Braden jumped from the van and ran around to the driver's door. He opened the door and took her arm. Although she protested, she allowed him to help her out of the van and into the RV.
As soon as they entered the RV, Archer swung into action. He grabbed his medical bag and started to examine Sam, over her continued protests and assurances that she was all right. He conducted a quick exam and found that she had no serious injuries.
"I told you that already,” she said, but she was smiling. “I just need a little rest, that's all."
"Come on,” Braden said. “I'll put you to bed.” To Archer he said, “Doc, get this thing rolling. We need to make some serious mileage away from here."
By the time that Sam was tucked safely away in bed, Archer had already managed to get them seven miles down the road. Braden returned and sat next to Manny.
"How are you feeling, Manny?” he asked.
"I could use some sleep,” Manny replied.
"Come on, I'll help you.” Braden rolled Manny's chair to the sofa and helped him to get out of his chair and lie down. He covered Manny with a light blanket and patted his shoulder. By the time Braden sat down in the front passenger seat, Manny was already snoring lightly.
Braden eyed Manny and said to Archer, “He's been working too hard. He should get more rest than he does."
"He feels responsible for finding Anson for you,” Archer said. “He's driven and he's
a workaholic, at least when it comes to Anson."
Braden rubbed his face with both hands. Archer looked at him sideways and said, “You could use some rest, too."
Braden nodded. “Are you okay to drive?"
"Yeah, I'm fine,” Archer answered. “Where are we going?"
Braden thought briefly. “Let's head south,” he said. “We should be able to make it to Atlanta by mid-morning. We can break there, then head down I-85 to the Gulf Coast. We need to keep moving now as much as possible. Which reminds me,” he added, “do you or Manny know how they found us?"
Archer nodded in the affirmative. “Manny told me they essentially did the same thing that he did to them. They sent emails to Sam's PDA and followed the signal to our general location. Before they could pin us down but after they took Sam, Manny blocked the PDA signal. They couldn't follow it all the way to us."
Braden stood and stretched. He yawned and said, “I guess I'll hit the rack. You sure you're okay?"
"Yes,” Archer replied. “Go to bed."
Braden let himself into the darkened bedroom and undressed. He slid under the covers and curled up next to Sam, who was sleeping deeply. He put his arm around her. She made a contented sound deep in her throat and slept on. He kissed her bare shoulder and drifted of sleep.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 9
When Braden awoke the next morning, they were parked at a truck stop on the west side of Atlanta. He walked to the front of the RV. Archer was asleep on the sofa. Manny was typing away on his computer, and Sam was sitting sideways in the driver's seat, a cup of cocoa in her hand. Manny looked up when Braden entered the room.
"Morning, kiddo,” Manny said. He picked up Sam's PDA and held it out to Braden. His voice changed into a passable imitation of the AOL guy. “You've got mail."
Braden paused in mid-stretch. He looked at Manny. “Anson?"
Manny shrugged. “Actually Silas, but it amounts to the same thing."
Braden took the PDA and checked the screen. The email was already there.