“We already have what we want,” shotgun man answered.
Apollo closed his eyes when he heard the countdown starting, his lungs pumping out of control. He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t find the words, not with his headache escalating right along with his blood pressure.
“3 . . . 2 . . .”
Just before shotgun man’s voice reached the count of one, Apollo heard a momentary whizzing sound, then the echo of a gunshot coming from the left. He felt a wetness land on his cheeks and chin, then heard three different thumps hit the ground in succession.
When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. All three attackers were lying on the ground with huge chunks of their necks missing. Blood and tissue seemed to be everywhere, hanging in clumps along the sides like red cheese.
“We’re still alive?” Rusty asked, his voice unsteady and full of anxiety. “How?”
Apollo looked at Dicky, then at Rusty. Neither appeared to be injured. However, blood splatter had found its way to them as well.
“I don’t know exactly,” Apollo said, turning his eyes to the women and children. They all looked stunned but unharmed, their tears flowing.
“Someone took a shot,” Dicky said, turning his head hard to the left.
“Yeah, an amazing shot. Killed all three,” Rusty added. “How is that even possible?”
“That’s got to be what, a thousand yards?” Dicky asked, never taking his eyes from the tree line in the distance.
Rusty turned his head to peer at the trees as well.
Apollo did the same, keeping watch for whatever happened next.
Just then a spotted horse appeared in the distance, sliding out from the backdrop of green. There were two riders, one large and one small. The larger person appeared to have a rifle in his hand. Apollo couldn’t make out much detail otherwise, not from this distance, his old eyes watering from the strain.
The horse began a full gallop a moment later, heading straight for them. Apollo wanted to stand up and greet the visitors, but his feet were still tied.
When the shooter closed about half the distance, Daisy spoke up with excitement in her voice. “Hey, is that who I think it is?”
“Bunker!” Stephanie said an instant later. “That’s gotta be him.”
Apollo waited another twenty seconds to be sure, but Stephanie was right. Bunker was atop the horse with the reins in one hand and a rifle in the other. There appeared to be a young boy sitting behind him, hanging on with his arms wrapped around Bunker’s waist.
When Bunker arrived, he circled around the back side of the women before coming to a complete stop in front of Apollo. “Everyone okay?”
“Yeah,” Daisy said. “Barely.”
“Where the hell have you been?” Stephanie asked, her voice full of attitude.
“On my way here with a new friend.”
“You took the shot?” Rusty asked.
Bunker nodded, then helped the boy off the horse with his free hand. “Take your knife and cut my friends free. Start with the girls.”
“Okay,” the kid said, his feet moving quickly.
Bunker looked at Apollo, his face stiff and devoid of emotion. “All I can say is it’s a good thing I happened to spot those men in time. If I hadn’t realized what they were about to do—”
“You don’t need to remind us,” Apollo said, his heart still pounding in his chest.
“Nothing like waiting until the last second,” Stephanie said, looking pissed.
“Had to get into position. Figured I’d only get one shot. Luckily, they lined themselves up perfectly so I could burn them with one round. Not sure what would have happened if I’d had to reload.”
“Or missed,” Dicky added.
Apollo couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from the bolt-action rifle Bunker was holding. The tan-colored death machine had grabbed hold of his eyes and wouldn’t let go, even with the headache pounding at his skull.
The rifle’s collapsible stock, sleek lines, and long barrel were stunning. The scope sitting on top was beyond high-tech, unlike anything he’d ever seen before. “What kind of rifle is that?”
Bunker held it up in front of his chest, looking like a proud papa. “It’s a TrackingPoint M1400. Been a while since I had a chance to shoot a .338 Lapua Magnum.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s a precision-guided sniper rifle that basically aims itself. Just follow the optics inside the scope and it’s dead on. Even a grunt like me can make a shot like that. Every time. Without fail.”
“Yeah, no doubt,” Rusty said, his eyes locked onto the dead bodies.
“Can even take down moving targets,” Bunker said, getting off the horse. He let go of the reins and used his knife to free Rusty’s hands and feet with a few swipes of the blade.
Bunker gave the rifle to the Mayor’s grandson after the youngster got to his feet. “Here. Hold this for me, but be careful. That’s over twenty grand of firepower you’re holding in your hands.”
Rusty smiled, leaning to support the weight of the weapon.
Bunker freed Dicky next, then Apollo.
“Where the hell did you get it?” Apollo asked, his brain still not functioning at full speed. There were better questions to ask, but that was the first one to land on his tongue.
Bunker pointed at the new boy, who was busy freeing the women. Only Misty and Martha remained. And, of course, Jeffrey and Victor. “From my new friend over there, Dallas. It was his father’s. The man had quite a collection, God rest his soul.”
“I take it something happened?”
“Yeah, the Russians happened. They’re here already.”
“We know,” Apollo said matter-of-factly.
“They took the kid’s mom and sisters. Because of me.”
“How’s that exactly?”
“They were searching for my sorry butt when they came across his parents’ place.”
“Why would they care about you?”
“When I was policing the bodies from the miner’s camp, they showed up in force. I took cover on the ridge above, but they spotted me and unleashed a firestorm. For whatever reason, they didn’t want a witness getting away.”
“What did you see?” Dicky asked, breaking his silence.
Bunker shrugged. “Not much. They searched the camp, then recovered a drone that was in flight. That’s about the time when they noticed me.”
Apollo pointed at the makeshift bandage around Bunker’s forearm. “Is that when this happened?”
“Roger that. A shell sent me flying into the river. Got impaled when I hit bottom. Took a while to find my way back after floating downstream, and that’s when I ran into Dallas. Couldn’t just leave him there all alone.”
“I understand. He’s your responsibility now.”
Bunker nodded, taking a full second before he spoke again. “At least until we can get his mom and sisters back. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not a problem. Just add it to the to-do list.”
“How did you know we were here?” Daisy asked.
“I didn’t. I was bringing Dallas here for safety.”
“Yeah, but why here?” Rusty asked.
“This is one of the few places I know uin the area. I had to take him somewhere safe and this seemed like the best choice after the Russians burnt the kid’s place to the ground,” Bunker said, turning his focus to the Sheriff. “I know why I’m here, Sheriff, but what about everyone else?”
“That’s a good question.”
“We’re all here for different reasons,” Stephanie said, stepping forward with Jeffrey in tow. She let go of her son’s hand and wrapped her arms around Bunker’s neck. “But at least we’re all together. Well, sort of.”
“Hey Steph,” Bunker said, bringing his arms up to hug her. Her grip was tight, so he returned the favor.
Jeffrey joined the hug-fest, his tiny arms trying to reach around his mom’s legs and Bunker’s.
&nbs
p; When Stephanie spoke again, her voice was muffled due to her face plant into his neck. “I thought we were never going to see you again. But as usual, you show up just in the nick of time.”
“Hey, I try.”
“You know, people are gonna start to expect this now and that can’t happen unless you’re here. Like permanently.”
“Well then, I guess I’d better stick around for a while. I’d hate to disappoint everyone.”
When those words landed on Apollo’s ears, his heart warmed and his headache eased; he was unable to hold back a grin. He let out a long exhale before turning his attention to Daisy, who was still with the other women.
The deputy’s eyes were sharp and focused, but not on the people standing with her. They were locked on Bunker and his long embrace with Stephanie. Daisy looked lost. Or maybe she felt forgotten, her eyes telling an emotional story.
Apollo wondered if Daisy was purposely staying away from Bunker, letting Stephanie have a tender moment with him first. Given their history of violent love triangles, it was certainly a possibility.
If he was right, then things were going to get complicated—again.
TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK 4
(Available Soon)
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REDFALL
Fight for Survival
Book 1
Written By Jay J. Falconer
www.JayFalconer.com
Published by BookBreeze.com LLC
Publication Date: January 16, 2016
ASIN: B01A951JCI
ISBN-13: 978-1523440269
Simon Redfall kept his head down and eyes low as he took a seat in the general admission section of the sold-out National Execution Center in Washington, DC. If it weren’t for his long hair and unruly beard, certainly one of the twenty-thousand blood-starved fans would have recognized him before the start of the most eagerly anticipated event in pay-per-view history.
A sprawling stage with a lavish red curtain was the focal point of the venue and built specifically for the government’s new Execution Channel, dubbed EC1. The arena featured sweeping sight lines to give those in attendance a perfect view of the dying criminal who would soon be unveiled for the world to see. Every detail of the inaugural event had been planned and refined to ensure wide, cross-section appeal and massively high broadcast ratings. Nothing was left to chance, not when the most hated mass murderer in modern history was about to draw her last breath with all of humanity watching and cheering.
The US government had partnered with StarBright Networks to squeeze every last dollar from what was sure to be a media feeding frenzy. The government's take of the revenue split was reported to be somewhere north of four billion dollars, and that didn’t include the bonus profits from the new global wagering tax being levied by the world’s governments on thousands of betting houses across the planet.
The over-under line on the official execution time was initially set at three minutes, eight point two seconds by the wizards in Las Vegas. However, Simon hadn’t been following the betting line since it was first published, so he didn’t know the current odds of this inaugural event.
The National Execution Center, or NEC as it was called on the street, was designed like an upscale Broadway theater, but on an enormous scale. Simon counted at least thirty-two ultra-high resolution TV cameras and several dozen members of law enforcement, meaning he’d better keep a low profile if he had any hope of remaining anonymous and making it out of the auditorium alive.
General admission seating was located in the balconies and divided into three progressively wider sections, each with a clear view of the ultra-high resolution jumbo screen mounted above the stage.
Below him were two VIP sections of different sizes. The larger, unprotected area on the left was reserved for friends and family of the innocent victims, while the smaller, bullet-proof glass cubicle on the right was for the expected handful of supporters of the condemned, in this case, a middle-aged business woman. Not your typical mass murderer, but one nonetheless.
The lights in the theater began to dim as theatrical, heart-pounding music rose up through the impressive surround-sound system, sending those in attendance into a chanting frenzy. A plush, red curtain opened from the middle, then a single spotlight found the Master of Ceremonies walking to the front of the stage with a wireless microphone in his hand.
The jumbo video screen above the platform flashed his name in eye-catching white letters: Clarence Williams, III.
Red, white and blue lights flashed in a rotating spiral around the stage, sending a chill of unwanted patriotism into Simon’s spine.
Mr. Williams waved to the crowd as he walked to the center of the stadium’s platform and stood in front of the execution chamber—a twenty-foot square metal box built with a single, one-way viewing window along the front.
“Citizens of the world,” Williams said, his voice booming through the PA system, “the NEC and the G20 countries of the world welcome you to the greatest show on Earth!”
The crowd cheered in response, with raised fists pumping in the air.
“Let’s get started,” he said in an emphatic voice, raising his hand and pointing an index finger up to the video screen. “We all know why we’re here today, but I’d like everyone to take a moment to pay their respects to the victims of this most heinous crime. Please direct your attention to the StarBright screen above me and offer a silent prayer for each of those who’ve been lost.”
The music waned and the crowd fell silent in an emotional hush when a video began to play on the jumbo screen. A panoramic sweep of the camera showed dozens of bodies, each lying motionless on the street in pools of their own blood. Men, women, and children—all dead—an entire busload of visiting scientists and their families gunned down without mercy.
The video stopped twenty seconds later, focusing on a single face—a tiny brunette girl the world had come to know as Deena Davis, a beautiful six-year-old who was gunned down while clutching her pink teddy bear. The corpse next to her was that of her pregnant mother who’d been ripped in half by the perpetrator’s AK-47, exposing more of her belly than should have been allowed for public viewing.
Simon looked away, unable to keep his eyes on the infamous footage, feeling a gut-wrenching pain that had become a near-constant companion for the past two years. He’d seen it countless times, as had most everyone in attendance, he figured. It had been the lead story on nearly every newsfeed he’d watched since the mass shooting happened. There was probably only a handful of people across the entire planet who hadn’t memorized every detail of the carnage, all of it captured live by the swarm of news crews on scene that warm summer day in Washington, DC.
The music started again, and so did the crowd, pushing through the emotional fog suffocating the auditorium.
MC Williams swung an arm up, bringing the house lights up along with it.
“StarBright Networks is proud to present to you, live, this afternoon, the execution of a vile, despicable criminal. Right here, in the execution chamber behind me, is the woman who slaughtered sixty-four innocent men, women, and children, and did so in cold blood.”
The crowd roared, chanting for action. “Die! Bitch! Die!”
Williams continued, raising his voice. “Those of yo
u in preferred seating, please bring your attention to the viewing window behind me. Citizens in the balconies, please keep your eyes locked on the StarBright display above. And to our billions of viewers watching from around the world, don’t move from your television! This is the moment you’ve all been waiting for! . . . Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Public Enemy Number One, the most hated terrorist in modern history!”
Then the MC said the name of the criminal: “Tessa Jane Redfall!”
The knot in Simon’s stomach doubled in size when he heard his wife’s name being broadcast to billions of live viewers, bringing home the grotesque reality of the moment.
The lights inside the chamber beamed on, showing the weary face of a slender blond woman strapped to a vertical stainless steel table.
The crowd cheered and stomped their feet in unison, keeping with the beat of the theatrical music, while the video feed zoomed in on her tearful eyes. Each time the stadium shook with foot-pounding thunder, it felt like a nail being driven farther and farther into Simon’s heart, condemning him to wander the halls of anguish alone.
Until now, everything Simon had been through since the killings happened felt like a waking dream—a horrific quagmire from which there was no escape. He’d been forced to watch his life unravel one thread at a time, feeling as though he was watching a sick, demented play through someone else’s eyes. Someone who was never married to the love of his life—a suburban, well-educated wife who went off the rails and killed a busload of dignitaries and their families.
He hadn’t planned to be here today to witness Tessa’s execution. In fact, only four days prior, he was traveling on foot, making his way to the next town in Oregon, where he’d find yet another vacant cardboard box in an alley to sleep in before continuing his volunteer work at the nearest shelter. But out of nowhere, an unseen force rose up and stopped his wandering quest of penitence, turning him around and bringing him here to Washington. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was something powerful inside that he couldn’t control.
Bunker: Boxed Set (Books 1, 2, and 3) Page 49