Blackout: Book 0

by Alexandria Clarke

  “How much farther, Dad?” Jacob asked, the wind carrying his voice back. He sounded hoarse, as if he was watching a cold.

  “It’s just over the hill,” Jove answered.

  I pushed ahead, pumping my legs vigorously to get Pippa and me over the crest. When we reached the top, we nearly ran into the wagon tied behind Jacob’s bike. He had stopped there to stare down at the warehouse, his expression knitting together in a frown.

  I looked too. Down below, outside the warehouse door, a few fires blazed in big metal trash cans. People huddled around them, men mostly, warming their hands or frying hot dogs and beans for dinner. If that were all, it wouldn’t have worried me so much, but a line of rifles decorated the side of the warehouse. This was not a group of people that I wanted to mess with.

  “Who are they, do you think?” Jacob muttered.

  “No one good,” I said back.

  “I know them,” Nita chimed in, having made it up the hill after Jove and Penny. “See that mark?” She pointed to a crude crest that had been spray-painted on the side of the warehouse above the row of guns. “It’s a gang. They call themselves The Silencers.”

  “Great,” Jacob said. “I don’t suppose The Silencers will let us go get the Humvee out of storage, will they?”

  “I doubt it,” Nita replied. “From what I’ve heard, they make most of their money out of chop shops. It’s probably why they decided to post up here. They’ve got a whole warehouse full of expensive car parts.”

  “Parts that don’t belong to them,” Jacob growled. “I’m going down there.”

  I grabbed the back of his jacket to keep him from rolling down the hill. “No, you’re not. You want to get killed?”

  “I want to get out of here,” he replied sharply. “What do you suggest?”

  I monitored the gang’s movements for another minute. There were about twenty guys down there, but they were all centered at the front door. No one moved around the back of the warehouse. “I’ll go down. There’s got to be a back door, right? I’ll slip in unnoticed.”

  “And what happens when you try to drive a Humvee out of there?” Jacob challenged. “That’s not exactly discreet, and I bet The Silencers would love an excuse to use those rifles.”

  “It’s an armored car, Jacob. I’ll figure it out.” I swung my leg off the bike as Pippa balanced herself. “Nita, can you switch with me?”

  “Sure.” She set down her own bike and grabbed the tandem instead. “What are you going to do?”

  I shrugged off the borrowed Saint Mark’s coat and traded it for a plain black jacket that I’d packed in my bag. I zipped it up over my red sweater, covering the brighter color, and drew the hood up. “I’m going to sneak in. If I’m not out in an hour or if they start firing, assume I got caught and get the hell out of here, okay?”

  Jacob flicked the hood off of my head. “I don’t like this, Georgie. I should go down there. Not you.”

  I shook him off and pulled the hood up again. “Jacob, face facts, will you? I’m a woman, okay? A decent-looking one—”

  “Girl power,” Nita interjected.

  “—which means that the guys down there are going to be way less willing to shoot at me than another strange man,” I finished. “That’s how society works. I have a better chance at surviving this than you do, so shut up, stay here, and make sure your family is safe. Got it?”

  Jacob grabbed hold of my jacket and yanked me toward him. “I never knew that I could love and hate someone so much at the same time.”

  “You’ll thank me when we turn the heat on in the Humvee,” I returned.

  He crushed his lips against mine, curling his arms around me.

  “Enough already,” Pippa said. “I’m going to be sick.”

  I drew away from Jacob. “Go a little ways down the hill,” I told Nita and the Masons. “If they look up here, they’ll see you right away. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

  Without waiting for an answer, I darted away from the group and into the trees that bordered the road, letting gravity’s momentum draw me closer to The Silencers.

  Chapter Ten

  The trees gave me the cover I needed to get close enough to scope out The Silencers’ camp. I slid to a stop behind the wide trunk of an old oak, knelt down, and peeked out from behind it. First, I checked the hill. Thankfully, the Masons had taken my advice. The fading sky lit the terrain like the backdrop of a school play. Had they not moved, their silhouettes would have been plainly visible to the gang below. I shifted my gaze to the warehouse itself.

  “Listen to me, George,” my father’s voice rang in my head. “Those men are here for you. They want to take you away from me because you’re not going to school. They’ll take you back to the city, and you know what that means, right?”

  I was thirteen. “I’m dead.”

  “That’s right,” my father replied. “You make a sound, you’re dead. You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The bright beam of a searchlight permeated the curtains that hung on the windows of our cabin. My father forced my head down below the sill but not before I’d caught a glimpse of the police officers outside.

  “They’re going to come inside,” he whispered. “We need to get to the safe house. Remember, George, if you make a sound—”

  “I’m dead.”

  That was the mantra. It always ended the same way. No matter what the situation. No matter who the person outside the cabin was. Run to the safe house. The bunker. Lock yourself underground. Stay quiet. Don’t make contact.

  As I studied The Silencers’ camp, I half wished that I had yelled out to those cops when I was thirteen. It would’ve saved me a whole lot of childhood trauma. Then again, if I had done that, I would’ve been way less prepared for this moment. All those years of creeping around had paid off. If I wanted to make it somewhere silently, I could do it.

  So when The Silencers burst into laughter simultaneously, I used the racket as cover and darted across the open space between my hiding spot and the dark side of the warehouse. I pressed myself against the cold metal wall, steadying my breath. The gang members went on with their storytelling and gesticulating. None of them had noticed the breach in their poor security measures.

  “So then I said to him,” a buff man with a black bandana around his neck went on with a chuckle, “hand over the cans, or I’ll shove one up your ass.”

  The group guffawed, and I rolled my eyes at the lack of innovative threats. It was a gift to move away from them, toward the rear of the warehouse. I went slowly, rolling through each step from the heel of my boots to the toe. My father had taught me that it was the smoothest, quietest way to walk since it stopped you from stomping around like an elephant. Apparently, he had learned the skill from when he was in his college marching band, though I’d never seen him play an instrument in his life.

  The Silencers’ festivities took place outside the warehouse’s big rolling garage doors, but I knew there had to be a few other entrances. Getting inside wasn’t going to be the problem. Getting out was going to be a lot trickier. I found a side door around the back, jimmied the cheap lock, and cracked it open. After peeking inside to make sure none of the gang members was taking refuge from the wind, I snuck into the warehouse.

  It was pitch black. The first thing I did was accidentally slam the top of my head against a mirror protruding from the side of an enormous pickup truck because I didn’t allow for my eyes to adjust before popping out of my low crouch. I rubbed at the new lump as my eyes watered. The warehouse coalesced into a collection of shadows. It wasn’t the average storage facility full of old people’s junk or random odds and ends. This was a garage belonging to the wealthy. It was full of expensive vehicles from end to end, many of them priceless antiques or shiny foreign sports cars that were not meant to be driven through the thick snow that would find its way to the city in the next few months. There were Ferraris and Lamborghinis. Bugattis and Maseratis. And a line of original combat vehicles all
parked next to one another.

  I approached the row of Humvees from behind. Apparently Jove wasn’t the only man in Denver that had an interest in collecting them. What could a person possibly need with this many old military vehicles? It wasn’t as though you could drive them comfortably around town. Hell, you couldn’t drive them comfortably at all. Lack of luxury aside, I couldn’t help but appreciate Jove’s unbridled fascination with the Humvees. When he wasn’t arguing with his son, he and I had talked about certain aspects of the vehicle. He knew all about them, which was actually helpful in the grand scheme of things.

  I reached a Humvee with a Saint Mark’s Student of the Month bumper sticker plastered to the back window and clambered up into the driver’s seat. Jove had upgraded the interior with leather accents, a new radio, and several speakers, but the upgrades didn’t hide the practicalities that made the vehicle what it was. The bad news was that there was way less room in it than I thought there would be. There were only four seats, and the rest of the cabin space was taken up by a massive center console. Thankfully, the interior opened up to the trunk space in the back. Two of us would have to ride along there. It would be uncomfortable, but we would at least make it out of the city in one piece.

  Jove had handed over the key before we’d left the apartment building. I fit it into the ignition and braced myself. If The Silencers heard the engine turn over, they would be inside in a heartbeat. As soon as I turned the truck on, I’d only have a few minutes to get out of dodge. With a deep breath, I turned the key. Nothing happened. The engine sputtered and whined. The Humvee was out of gas.

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” I muttered, banging on the steering wheel. I hopped out of the Humvee and looked around. There were a ton of cars to steal gas from, but I actually needed something to siphon with.

  In the bed of the same truck that had nearly given me a concussion on the way in, I found a garden hose. I pulled a knife out of the inside pocket of my jacket and flicked it open then set to work on trimming the hose to an appropriate length. The knife was yet another thing that Jacob didn’t know I owned. It was the same knife I’d learned to do everything with as a kid, from gutting a fish to skinning a rabbit. I tugged the shortened length of hose free from the bed, popped open the truck’s gas tank, and got to work. There were empty gas jugs lined up against the warehouse wall. I positioned one of them where I needed it, fed one end of the hose into the truck’s tank, and put the other end in my mouth. Then, trying to ignore the tangy metallic taste of the garden accessory, I sucked the gas into the hose. When I felt it surge toward my mouth, I quickly fit the hose into the jug and watched in satisfaction as the gas splattered into the plastic jug. Once it was full, I ditched the hose and hauled the jug back to the Humvee, where I dumped the stolen gas into the armored car’s tank instead.

  “Eat up,” I muttered, patting the side of the Humvee. “Great, I’m talking to a truck.”

  Outside, another roar of laughter went up from The Silencers. I hoped they were drunk enough to stay put for another couple of minutes. Maybe their inebrious shenanigans would buy me more time to get out of here. I hopped up into the driver’s seat again and tried the key for the second time. The Humvee engine roared to life, sending a rumbling echo through the warehouse.

  “Hey!” someone shouted from outside.

  “Here we go,” I said. I threw the vehicle in drive and pulled it out of its tight parking space. Across the warehouse, someone rolled up the giant garage door. “Well, that was convenient.”

  Before The Silencers had the time to react, before any one of them even had the chance to pick up one of the rifles that rested against the warehouse, I pressed the Humvee’s gas pedal to the floor and gunned it for the exit. The Silencers dove like Olympic swimmers to get out of the way. None of them were stupid enough to stand in front of the Humvee’s massive grill once it was clear that I had no intention of stopping. I crashed through two of the trash can barbeques, sending sparks and hot dogs flying. As the Humvee careened up the hill, The Silencers finally sprang into action. I ducked as the quick pitter-patter of a firing rifle rang through the air. A few rounds hit the rear end of the Humvee, and I gritted my teeth at the harsh sound of metal against metal. I swerved closer to the woods, taking out the lowest level of tree branches. Night had fallen completely now, and the shadows made it difficult for the gang members to get off a clear shot. Bullets whizzed over the roof of the Humvee until I was out of range. I glanced in the mirror to check the situation behind me. The Silencers were already working on righting the barbecues and had not bothered to hop in another working vehicle to chase me. It was the smart thing to do. One stolen Humvee wouldn’t put enough of a dent in their illegally appropriated inventory to warrant wasting resources on recovering it. Still, I wasn’t going to take any chances by slowing down.

  I revved the engine as the Humvee made it over the hill and skidded to stop beside the Masons and Nita. Each of them wore a stunned expression as I unlocked the doors and rolled down the window.

  “What are you all waiting for?” I asked. “Get in before they decide to follow us. Move!”

  As Nita helped Pippa and Penny into the backseat, Jacob loaded the bags into the rear of the vehicle. Jove, of course, climbed into the passenger’s seat and looked over at me.

  “Sure you don’t want me to drive?” he asked.

  “I got it, Jove.”

  Jacob appeared at my window. “What do we do with the bikes?”

  “Leave them,” I told him. “We don’t have the room to bring them with us.”

  He rolled the bicycles into the woods, hiding them amongst the trees. Then he and Nita climbed in to sit between the bags in the trunk.

  “Everyone ready?” I asked, checking to make sure everyone that had a seat belt was strapped in. “Here we go.”

  The Humvee lurched forward as I hit the gas, and everyone braced themselves. It was a rough ride, especially since we were driving on the shoulder to avoid the stagnant cars that littered the road. There was no use in returning to the interstate. It would be practically impassable in the Humvee.

  “Uh, Georgie?” Jacob said, looking out of the Humvee’s rear window. “We got trouble.”

  Two trucks rumbled into view behind us, close enough for me to catch a glimpse of the The Silencers driving them. “Damn it. I didn’t think they would be stupid enough to follow us.”

  “Well, you did ruin their barbecue,” Nita pointed out.

  “Hold on, everyone.” I raced up the hill as the trucks followed after us, aiming for the ramp that led to the interstate.

  “What are you doing?” Jove demanded. “We’re going to get stuck up there, and then they’ll definitely catch us!”

  “Shut up, Jove,” I growled.

  He reached for the steering wheel. “I won’t let you drive my family straight into a situation that we won’t be able to get out of.”

  I pulled the gun from the strap around my thigh and pointed it at Jove. Penny screamed, Pippa gasped, and Jacob yelled, “Georgie, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Don’t touch me,” I said calmly to Jove. I had no intention of shooting him. The safety was still on, but he didn’t need to know that. He raised his hands above his head and shrank into his seat. When I was satisfied with his submission, I returned my attention to the road, roaring up toward the interstate. The Silencers’ trucks followed close behind.

  I weaved in and out of the ruined cars, carving a quick path along the road. Occasionally, the Humvee clipped another vehicle, sending us all bumping up toward the ceiling. Jacob’s head crashed against the hard top before he took a cue from Nita and lay flat against the padding of our baggage. The Humvee’s tires stuck firmly to the pavement, no matter how hard I jerked the steering wheel around. The Silencers, on the other hand, hadn’t picked the best vehicles to chase after us in. They had to follow each other in single file, driving over the debris that littered the Humvee left in its wake. As I wove around the tail end of an eighteen-wh
eeler, the first truck lost control and ran into another sedan. The second one narrowly avoided his buddy and, in a lucky coincidence, found enough room on the road to pull up next to the Humvee.

  “Georgie, the guy riding shotgun is holding a freaking shotgun!” Pippa yelled.

  “Everybody duck!” I ordered.

  My passengers obeyed just in time as bullets rained through the windows. Shattering glass and horrified screams split the air. Up ahead, a school bus had turned and tipped over, blocking the road. I braked hard, screaming to a stop, but The Silencers noticed the obstruction too late. The brake lights of the truck flashed red as it smashed into the underside of the school bus. I didn’t pause to take in the wreck, instead taking the nearest exit ramp to get off the interstate, then corrected my course toward the mountains, ignoring the pavement and driving across the curbs and sidewalks instead.

  “Are you insane?” Jove thundered. “We could’ve died up there!”

  “It was the best way to lose them,” I shot back. “We got out, didn’t we? Is everyone okay? Is anyone shot?”

  “No,” Pippa replied, “but Mom has a giant piece of glass in her leg.”

  I briefly looked behind me to check it out. Penny stared silently at her thigh, where a sharp pizza-shaped slice of the broken window had imbedded itself in the muscle. She didn’t yell or cry or express any sort of emotion at all.

  “Jesus, Penny!” Jove released his belt to reach over the back of his seat.

  “Don’t touch it!” Nita ordered, slapping Jove’s hand away. “As soon as you pull that thing out, she’s going to start bleeding like crazy. I’ll take care of it.”

  Jove hesitated but took Nita’s advice. He tapped Penny’s uninjured knee. “Penny? Penny, look at me.”

  But his wife continued staring at the glass. Nita worked her way up to sit on the center console, the first aid kit in her lap.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Jove asked.

  “She’s in shock,” I said. “It’s a reaction to the adrenaline. It’ll pass. Let Nita focus.”