Brink of Extinction | Book 1 | Sudden Impact

by Shupert, Derek

  Jackal pocketed the keys to the Hummer, and jumped down from the driver’s side of the rig.

  Brawny took a hearty step back and stood off to the side as I opened my door. He tugged at the strap of his rifle as I hopped down to the sidewalk.

  “Ran into some trouble I see.” He pointed out the hole on the sleeve of my coat that was stained red with blood.

  I didn’t look. “Nothing we couldn’t handle. Hazards of the job.”

  Jackal made his way around the rear of the Hummer with his piece down at his side.

  Brawny spotted the gash on his forearm. “If you say so. How are you on ammo?”

  “Low but not out,” I replied.

  The other two mercs came back hauling a few extra rifles over their shoulders, and Glocks stuffed in their waistbands.

  Brawny looked to his men, then nodded our way. “Use these. The last thing we need is for you two to run out of ammo and get us killed.”

  His men handed us each an assault rifle and a Glock, then backed away.

  I slung the rifle over my shoulder, and cycled a round into the Glock. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you cared about our well-being.”

  Brawny secured his sunglasses on the top of his shirt, just above his ballistic vest. “I care about getting Mr. Coleman’s job finished by any means necessary. Consider it a one-time professional courtesy.”

  Jackal stowed the Glock with the other piece, and opted for the rifle. He ejected the mag, looked over the ammo, then slapped it back into place.

  “So, what’s the play here?” Brawny asked.

  I turned, then pointed at the entrance of the building. “We’ll take the front if you and your men want to come in through the back. That way, we hedge any runners trying to flee. Box ’em in and do some damage.”

  Brawny slipped the assault rifle from his shoulder, and held it close to his chest. “Works for me. Lead the way.”

  Jackal turned on his heels, and skirted the rear of the Hummer.

  I fell in line behind him with Brawny and his men covering our backs.

  We double-timed it down the sidewalk at a good clip.

  Darkness loomed beyond the glass fronts of the buildings we passed.

  Brawny and his men broke off and funneled down the narrow gap between the buildings.

  Jackal paused. He had his rifle shouldered with the side of his face resting against the buttstock. He moved across the sidewalk toward the street, and skimmed over the front of the building. Jackal raised his arm in the air, then waved us on.

  We stayed close to the building, moving alongside its aged, brick exterior to the glass door entrance.

  Jackal approached with caution, and snuck a peek inside. His head moved about from side to side for a minute before he turned back to me. “Looks clear.”

  I nodded.

  He tested the silver handle on the door. It didn’t budge.

  “Locked?” I asked.

  “Not for long.” Jackal took a knee while I covered him. He retrieved his lock pick kit from the interior of his coat and went to work. It took him no more than thirty seconds to gain entry. “Got it.” Jackal stowed his kit, and got to his feet.

  The door opened with ease. We slipped inside the dim space, sight unseen.

  I closed the door behind me, and locked it as Jackal advanced to the rear of the office.

  It was a cluttered mess, and smelled of grease and other scents I couldn’t place. In the far corner was a counter stacked with small boxes. Loose papers carpeted the checkered floor that was smudged with dirt and grime.

  Jackal checked behind the counter, then moved back toward me. He offered a thumbs up.

  The sound of raised voices from the wall next to us grabbed our attention. I turned to the door that led out into the larger portion of the building. The chatter grew closer.

  I pointed at Jackal, then the door. We each took positions on either side and crouched down. Jackal slung his rifle over his shoulder and waited.

  The doorknob jiggled, then turned.

  My finger hugged the trigger of the Glock. I tilted the barrel up and held firm.

  Boisterous laughter filled the air as the door opened outward. The men standing just a few paces away spoke in Spanish, then laughed some more. I picked up two voices with differing tones.

  A short, stocky, bald man wearing dark blue coveralls strode inside the office a second later. He passed right by us without breaking his stride.

  I covered the doorway as Jackal stalked him. He stayed low but moved quickly. He sprung from his crouched position, and grabbed the man from behind. The palm of his hand covered the man’s mouth as his forearm slipped under his neck.

  Jackal arched his back, lifting the man off the ground. The tips of the stocky man’s work boots grazed the floor. His arms flailed in every direction. A choking sound escaped his mouth. He reached back, clawing at Jackal’s head.

  I kept watch over the doorway as Jackal dragged the man to the back corner of the space. Jackal silenced the man for good, and dumped his body on the far side of the counter. He hurried over with his rifle clutched in both of his hands, and stopped shy of the opening.

  “Well?” he whispered.

  I craned my neck, trying to get a feel for what we were walking into. “Looks like some sort of chop shop. I can’t see much from here, but we’ve got two armed men near the roll up doors with what looks to be AKs. Beyond that, I can’t see shit.”

  Jackal stood, and poked his head out from around the jamb. “I got another patrolling the center of the shop with an AK from the looks of it. Beyond that, seems like a bunch of grease monkeys chopping up those sweet ass rides. It looks like they have generators powering some of those work lights that are spread throughout the room.”

  I watched the two guards mill about with their assault rifles trained at the ground. They nudged each other with their hands, then laughed.

  One of the mechanics headed our way. He wiped his hands off on the red towel he carried.

  I drifted back from the doorway, then looked to Jackal. I pointed at the inbound man.

  Jackal nodded.

  The report of gunfire from the rear of the shop stopped the mechanic cold. He spun on the heels of his work boots, searching for the source.

  The two guards near the roll up doors flinched, and the idle chatter ceased. They brought their AKs to bear, and headed toward the discord.

  “All right, let’s go.” I stood and advanced out into the shop with the Glock trained at the two guards.

  Jackal skirted the jamb of the door, and went the opposite way.

  I fired at the large men who spread out, and weaved through the cars. I nailed one in the side of the head, dropping him to the ground.

  His cohort turned my way and opened fire.

  I ducked and took cover behind a dark-red, two-door, sports car.

  The swarm of hellfire punished the body of the vehicle and the wall of the office we came out of.

  I turned toward the car and raised up, glancing over the sports car’s hood.

  The hammering of the AK subsided. I popped up from behind the car with the Glock trained in his direction.

  The big man slapped the side of his AK as he looked in my direction.

  I fired two more shots, hitting the frantic goon center mass.

  He stumbled backward and fell to the floor.

  Brawny and his men surged from the rear of the building as Jackal and I secured the front. We sandwiched the chop shop crew in a kill box, severing any sort of retreat that may have crossed their minds.

  All armed guards were neutralized. Most were killed while others groaned in agony from the floor. Any mechanics not hit by stray gunfire cowered on the cement, and didn’t move or try to escape.

  I questioned each of the mechanics as Brawny’s team swept the shop for Lawson. The frightened men muttered in Spanish, offering up nothing of use.

  Well, except one.

  “Did you get anything useful?” Jackal asked fro
m over my shoulder as he covered my back.

  I towered over one of the frightened men who shielded his head, and kept his eyes trained to the floor. “I think so. This one here said some white man and girl were here earlier. They spoke with their boss, then left with him.”

  “Lawson isn’t here,” Brawny said, shouting from across the shop.

  “He was here earlier.” I grabbed the cowering man by the scruff of his coveralls, and jerked him to his feet. I shoved him back against the car, and pressed the barrel of the Glock to his sweaty forehead.

  The man whimpered and spoke in Spanish with his hands in the air.

  “So, where’s he at now?” Brawny asked from the passenger side of the car we were standing in front of.

  “He’s too afraid to say. If he does, his boss will kill him and his family.” I removed the gun from his forehead, and trained it at the floor. I put a bullet through the top of his boot.

  The man’s leg gave out. I held him up as he wailed in pain.

  Let’s try this again. I shoved the Glock in his face, and took a step back.

  He cried and wailed, shouting through the pain as he told me what he knew.

  I squeezed the trigger.

  The Glock recoiled in my hand.

  The man’s head snapped back as the bullet punched through the back of his skull.

  The underbelly of the hood was painted with chunks of bone and brain matter.

  His lifeless body crumbled to the floor at my feet.

  “Tell me you got something?” Jackal asked as he took a step back.

  “Yeah. I know exactly where Lawson’s at. His ass is ours.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CORY

  I didn’t want to torture T-dog, but he left me no choice.

  “Last time. Tell me who hired your crew to hit Mr. Compos’s warehouse?” My voice was infused with rage and anger. I held him by the scruff of his shirt, and drew my other arm back. “You’re going to tell me what I want to know.”

  “Go to hell, cracker,” T-dog replied, spitting in my face. The thick mucus splattered against my cheek. “You and that piece of trash back there are going to get lit up when my homies arrive. You best believe that.”

  As much as I despised the man I used to be, I needed him to show up, and handle what needed to be done.

  Juan stood just outside of the office, watching the interrogation. He tromped inside. “What are you waiting for? I want to know who hired him, now. Get to it.”

  I slugged T-dog square in the face. His head snapped back. He lifted his arms from the side of the chair, but the wire wrapped around his wrists restricted his movement.

  “Tell me who hired you,” I said again.

  T-dog squinted, then scrunched his nose. A trickle of blood leaked from his nostrils. He turned his head to the side and spat. “You can tell that Spanish asshole that he can suck my–”

  I punched him before he could finish his sentence. “Wrong answer. Tell me who hired you to hit the warehouse.”

  The gang leader was resilient, taking each punishing blow I dealt to his face without giving up what he knew. Strike after strike, I hammered his face into a pulpy mess of puffy flesh and blood.

  Crack.

  T-dog’s nose busted under the weight of my fist smashing into his face. He slouched in the chair. His head dangled to the side as he fought to lift it up.

  The pain in my ribs grew with every punch. It felt as though a hot poker was jammed into my side, but I kept going.

  I took a deep breath. “Just tell me who hired you, and this will end.”

  T-dog lifted his shaking arm up as far as it would go, then flipped me the bird. “Eat–shit–cracker.”

  I grabbed his middle finger, and flicked my wrist. The bone snapped with ease.

  T-dog screamed at the top of his lungs. His legs thrashed and kicked. He howled like a wounded dog as he lunged forward. Spit and blood dribbled from his mouth as he stared at his crooked finger.

  I wrapped my hand around his index finger, holding it with a firm grip. “You’ve got more fingers for me to work with. Make no mistake, I will break each one until you tell me what I want to know.”

  The hardened exterior of the gang leader cracked, leaving nothing more than a whimpering man who threw himself at my mercy. “Yo, man, please. If I tell you, I’m as good as dead.”

  I broke his index finger.

  T-dog howled. He writhed in agony, rocking the chair, and assaulting me with a slew of colorful words.

  Juan stood at my side, waiting for the stubborn man to reveal who hired him. “How much longer is this going to take? We need to get out of here before any of his crew shows up.”

  Sweat bubbled on my brow and raced down my flushed cheeks. I studied T-dog’s painful expression. “He’s close. I don’t think he’s got much more left in him.”

  Juan sighed, then shoved his piece against my chest. He pushed past me, and grabbed T-dog by his shirt. “Who hired you to hit to that warehouse? You better tell me right now, or I’m going to have him rip each of your fingernails off, one by one.”

  Juan grabbed his disjointed fingers and squeezed.

  T-dog cried out as he tried to pull his fingers from Juan’s hand. “All right. Just leave my hand alone, man.”

  “Who ordered the hit?” Juan asked, letting go of the mangled digits.

  “It was Gao.” T-dog looked at Juan through swollen eyes. “He ordered the hit on the warehouse.”

  “Gao?” I asked, confused by the answer. “Why would Gao do that? Has Andrès been having any issues with him?”

  Juan kept his fingers balled up in T-dog’s blood-stained shirt. “Bullshit. The Wu Ching Gang know better than to hit us. He’s just trying to start a war between the two larger factions in the area. He’s lying. Start taking fingernails.”

  T-dog flinched. “I’m telling you the truth. Gao ordered the hit. I swear on my life. He didn’t say why or give any other reason. He threw down a shit load of money, and told me what he wanted. I didn’t ask why, and he never said. I got the text in my phone from Gao. Look for yourself. It’s right there on the desk.”

  I scanned the top of the desk, and found the phone on top of some papers. I retrieved the device and thumbed the power button. The screen lit up, showing a half-naked woman as the background and a slew of app icon’s cluttering the screen. I thumbed the message icon, and sifted through the texts he’d received.

  “He’s got Gao’s name in here,” I said, scrolling through the many text messages. “Looks like he’s telling the truth after all. They’ve been working with each other.”

  Juan took a step back and turned to face me. He stared at T-dog for a second longer, then glanced at the phone. A scowl formed on his face–lips pursed in anger as he read through some of the texts. “That mother–”

  Loud music played from the main entrance of the building. The subtle, rich bass silenced us as we looked at one another.

  Juan ripped his piece from my hands. I dropped the phone to the floor at the sudden aggressive move. He trained the barrel at T-dog’s head. He put a bullet through the middle of his skull, then turned toward the office door.

  My jaw dropped as I pointed at the gang leader’s dead body. “Why the hell did you do that?”

  “We got what we needed. If I hadn’t, he would’ve told his crew and even Gao. That would’ve been a bigger shit storm for us. With him dead, they’ll just think it was a rival gang hit. Now, come on.” Juan hurried out of the office.

  I glanced at T-dog’s battered and broken body while backing toward the door.

  The music grew louder with every second that ticked by.

  Juan thumbed the switch to the flashlight in his hand. The dull beam flickered. He slapped the light against his palm, then shook it in frustration. “Damn light.”

  I pointed in the direction of the stairs that led to the second floor. “If we hurry, we can make it up there before they get–”

  Light from the front of the building gre
w brighter.

  Juan trained the beam at the ground. “Shit. No time. They’ll spot us before we can get up top. We’ll have to leave out of the back entrance.”

  We hurried toward the rear of the building as T-dog’s crew funneled inside.

  The light from the flashlight washed over the stacks of crates and boxes as our feet pounded the ground.

  The Young Bloods shouted, barking at one another in angry voices that carried throughout the building.

  Juan scoured the back wall for the exit. I watched our backs, listening as the footfalls of the angered men drew closer.

  “Here,” he said in a whisper.

  We entered the dark hall and followed it to the exit. Juan stopped shy of the door. He cracked it open and peered out into the alleyway.

  “Looks clear. Let’s move.” He shoved open the door and ran outside.

  I followed close behind.

  We hoofed it down the alley at full tilt, trying to put distance between us and the Young Bloods.

  The crackle of gunfire echoed down the corridor. A loud buzzing sound zipped past my head.

  I flinched and ducked while on the run.

  Christ.

  Juan stopped, spun around, and returned fire. His piece barked a harsh report as he unloaded on the threat flanking us.

  The incoming bullets missed us by mere inches. I kept low, and moved to the side toward the building.

  Juan took a hit to his right shoulder that knocked him off balance. The impact spun him around.

  The gangbanger firing at us caught a slug to the chest. He dropped to his knees, then fell back to the pavement.

  “Son of a bitch,” Juan said, palming the wound.

  The sound of squealing tires neared the entrance of the alley.

  I grabbed Juan by the arm and tugged. “If we don’t keep moving, we’re dead.”

  We ran toward the street, and vanished around the corner of the building as a car pulled into the alleyway. We double-timed it back to the Suburban as fast as we could.

  Juan dug his bloody hand into the pocket of his slacks. He fished out the keys, and tossed them at me. “Drive.”

  I bolted for the driver’s side as Juan stumbled around the rear of the SUV. We loaded up inside, and backed out into the alley.