The Black Storm (Book 1): Black Storm

by Gillespie, Mark

  “Damn it,” he said. He punched the steering wheel like he was trying to hammer something into it.

  “Rachel,” he said. “You listening?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Look we’re going to have to face off with these guys again,” Cody said. “You hear me kid? Just like last time. It’s the only way to get rid of them for sure.”

  “No!” Rachel yelled from her hiding place. “What if they kill you?”

  “They won’t,” Cody said. He didn’t sound convincing. “But we can’t go to the airport like this – with these people on our backs. You understand? We have to shake them off and we can’t lose them on the highway.”

  “What about me?”

  “You’re going in the trunk. No arguments.”

  “No way,” Rachel said.

  “Yes way,” Cody said. “I said no arguments. Now listen to me. Here’s the plan - we open up a little gap between the two cars like last time. Remember? Now when I stop you’re going to get out and jump in the trunk as fast as you can. You gotta run Rachel because we won’t have much time to get ready. I’m going to reload the gun and then I’m going send these assholes back to Hicksville. Got it?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Alright,” Cody said. “Here we go, ready or not.”

  He put his foot down on the gas, slamming the pedal to the floor. The Dodge accelerated down the dark highway, moving quickly up to ninety, then a hundred miles per hour and even faster. The world went past in a shadowy blur, as did the scores of northbound refugees walking along the grassy center.

  Some of the travelers stopped to look, their jaws hanging open at the sight of the vintage car racing down the highway. Some of them pointed at the Dodge, like they were standing wide-eyed on the sidelines of the Indy 500, trying to keep up with the leading car.

  The Chevrolet slipped further behind. Cody kept his eyes on the road ahead, trying to judge the right time to stop.

  The headlights in the rearview mirror got smaller. It was tempting to keep going however, because another shootout was the last thing Cody wanted. But standing up to the masks was the only way to shake them off his tail. He had to show them that he wasn’t the prey animal here. And after the Bulverde Road encounter, he’d grown in confidence with the realization that these people weren’t exactly the greatest shots in the world.

  He could do it. With any luck he’d discourage them permanently this time.

  “You ready?” Cody said. “We’re about to do this.”

  “Ready.”

  He swung the car to the right. The tires screeched until the Dodge went full circle and skidded to a halt with its headlights facing the oncoming Chevrolet.

  “Now,” Cody yelled. “Into the trunk.”

  He turned off the engine and grabbed the Glock off his lap. Then he reached for the door handle.

  Rachel leapt out of the back seat as quickly as she could. Cody led his daughter to the trunk and opened it up. As he did so, he glanced further down the gloomy highway. The Chevrolet was coming at them fast. He could hear ecstatic pig-like squeals coming from the cargo bed.

  Cody grabbed his backpack and pulled the front zip open. Keeping his hands steady, he pulled out a box of spare ammo and the speed loader too, which attached to the magazine and made reloading the Glock easier and faster.

  He released the magazine. Then he attached the speed loader to the top of it, clicked down and slid the rounds in as fast he could.

  “Hurry up Dad,” Rachel said. She was pointing to the monster truck hurling itself down the highway. “They’re coming.”

  “I know,” Cody said, not looking up.

  He inserted the magazine back into the gun. Then he looked at Rachel, whose chest was heaving up and down at an incredible speed. She was trying to be brave but he could see that she was petrified. He knew exactly how she felt.

  “Okay,” he said, gesturing inside the trunk. “Ready?”

  She nodded.

  “Go,” he said.

  He helped her climb into the trunk and watched as she curled up into a tight ball next to the food supplies. She clung onto Bootsy, burying her face in the teddy bear’s tattered fur.

  “I’ll leave the door ajar,” he said. ‘If anything happens to me you can get out by yourself. Just push the lid up and run. I’ll try and signal if things go bad. Listen honey, there are lots of other people traveling north on the highway. Find the good ones and stay with them. Okay?”

  Rachel’s eyes were glistening but the tears didn’t come. There were no tantrums or protests. She’d accepted this terrible new way of life. It was both admirable and heartbreaking to see such hardness forming in the eyes of one so young.

  “Okay,” she said, laying her head down.

  Cody tried to smile as he closed the trunk over. All he could manage was a grimace.

  “I love you,” he said. “See you soon.”

  “I love you too.”

  He pulled the lid down and made sure that it wasn’t locked. Then Cody dropped into a crouch and crept around to the side of the car.

  The Chevrolet came to a sudden halt nearby.

  Cody peered round the side of the Dodge, watching as five men jumped out of the cargo bed of the pickup. Four of them had shotguns pointed at the white Challenger. Cody saw three other people sitting in the cab up front. Two of them jumped out of the passenger side door. The driver stayed where he was. The two men coming out of the passenger side were wielding iron bars in their hands.

  Eight people.

  The masks didn’t take cover behind the pickup, not this time. They weren’t here to settle in for a long gunfight, not with such superior numbers. Cody didn’t know whether that was impatience, drunkenness or strategy on their part. What he did know was that they were walking straight over to the Dodge, their shotguns primed and ready to turn Cody into a piece of human roadkill.

  Cody’s heart was racing – what were they thinking? Were they really just going to walk him down and annihilate him? It sure looked that way.

  All four shotguns exploded at once. It was as if the masks were responding to some unseen cue on the sidelines telling them to shoot.

  Crack-crack-crack!

  This was followed by a high-pitched, rapid click clacking as the masks readied their weapons for another assault.

  There was a loud shattering noise. It came from the front of the Dodge. The masks had taken out one of the headlights, not far from where Cody’s head was positioned. He winced as if he’d taken a shot to the gut.

  They were coming fast and hard, leaving little window of opportunity for Cody to get a round of return fire in.

  But he had to – he’d have to take risk it.

  “Fuck it.”

  Cody leapt to his feet, pointed the Glock at the huddle of masks and fired. He tried to stay as calm and make his shots count. There were plenty of bodies coming his way. As long as he held his nerve, he was going to hit something.

  He aimed at those with the shotguns first.

  Bang! The man at the front – a middle-aged, leathery faced son of a bitch dropped like a lead balloon. So did his gun, which spilled out of his dying grasp and landed on the road.

  Bang! Cody missed with the second shot.

  Bang! Another one went down. This time it was a younger man – a rake-thin twenty-something who’d been barreling forward with hatred in his eyes. The shotgun was locked in his grip as he fell onto the road. As he lay there, a bloody hand reached towards Cody, clawing for a revenge that would never come.

  The other masks weren’t deterred by these setbacks. They hurried forwards in a shambling run. The two men wielding the iron bars stopped to pick up the shotguns of the deceased.

  They fired at Cody, who ducked behind the car.

  Cody wondered if the shotguns were being used as a distraction. Maybe they didn’t want to shoot him – maybe they wanted to get close enough to get their hands on him. After that, they’d do something much worse than just put a hole in him.r />
  What sort of torture were these rednecks capable of conjuring up?

  And what about Rachel?

  Cody leapt out from behind the car and fired again. He hit nothing. He tried and missed many times over. The red mist had taken over and he was shooting angry now.

  “Damn it,” he said.

  He extended his arm, took aim and was about to fire again.

  Something stopped him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blinking light in the sky. Red and green lights. But whatever it was, he couldn’t afford to investigate. Not now.

  Cody stood there, pointing the pistol at the masks, his trigger finger paralyzed with fear. They were too close. There were too many of them.

  “We’ve got you now you son of a whore,” one of them said. “Hey where’s your pretty little girl at Mr Hollywood? Oh boy! I can’t wait to get my hands on that little piece of celebrity meat.”

  “Fuck you,” Cody hissed.

  He squeezed the trigger. When he heard the clicking noise that told him the gun was empty, his heart sank.

  “Oh shit,” he said, looking at the pistol.

  “Looks like you shot your load boy,” one of the masks said, laughing.

  They all laughed.

  Cody was beaten. He’d come into this second gunfight too confident after his victory over the masks in Bulverde. He was so sure that he’d dispatch them again that he hadn’t even pulled any extra ammo from the trunk. Now the Glock was empty and he’d only dropped two of the eight masks.

  Why hadn’t he tried to outrun them in the Dodge? What the hell was he thinking playing at cowboys in the middle of the goddamn road?

  The masks lowered their weapons as they walked towards him. They didn’t seem in the slightest bit bothered about their dead companions lying on the road. It was party time.

  Cody held his hands up in surrender.

  “C’mon guys,” he said. “ Let’s work something…”

  A roaring sound in the distance cut him off. It sounded like a giant, angry wasp in the sky. Cody listened closely – it was the sound of an engine in trouble or something like that. Instinctively, he looked up and saw a small plane making a rapid descent towards the highway. The blinking red and green lights that had caught Cody’s eye were on its wings. With each second, the lights were getting bigger. The buzzing noise got louder.

  There was no doubt that it was coming down. The plane didn’t appear to be in any obvious trouble – there was no smoke or visible signs of damage trailing off the aircraft.

  If it wasn’t in trouble, it was coming down deliberately.

  But the masks weren’t looking at the plane. They were circling the Dodge Challenger, cutting off all of Cody’s escape routes.

  “Rachel,” Cody said, backing off. He wanted to yell at her – to tell her to get out of the trunk and run as fast as she could. But he was hypnotized, both by the presence of the encircling masks and the strange commotion unfolding in the sky. There was also a chorus of high-pitched screams in the distance. Further down the highway, scattered groups of refugees were standing on both sides of the road, as well as on the median strip in between. They could see what Cody saw up there. The plane was coming towards them and they didn’t know which way to run.

  Cody’s heart nearly stopped.

  “Oh shit,” he said. He pointed towards the blinking lights in the sky.

  “That’s a plane coming down fellas,” he said. “Will you look behind you for Christ’s sake?”

  “Bullshit,” a stocky-shouldered, bald-headed man said. There was a murderous glint in his eyes. He was leading the slow charge coming after Cody.

  “He’s aiming for the road I think,” Cody said. “That plane’s going to go through those people like a bowling ball. And we’re not exactly standing in a safe zone here.”

  The sound of the roaring engine in the sky got louder. Finally one of the masks turned around to check it out.

  “Holy shit!” the man squealed. “It is coming down Hank. Coming straight out of the sky like this highway was a runway.”

  The bald man turned around and his jaw dropped.

  “Oh Lord Jesus!” he said. “Not another one.”

  The five masks turned around and watched as the small plane descended towards the 281. For a moment, they were hypnotized just like the refugees were further up the road. It was as if no one could believe what they were seeing. They’d all heard about planes coming down elsewhere, but to see one – it was both mesmerizing and horrific.

  Sensing his chance, Cody crept backwards towards the trunk. The plane’s engine drowned out the sound of his footsteps.

  The bald man called over to the driver sitting in the pickup. “Randall! Look at that! You see it?”

  The fat, white-haired man in the cab was leaning out of the Chevrolet, watching the plane speeding towards the highway.

  “See it? You think I’m blind?”

  “What do we do?”

  “Get back here!” Randall yelled, ducking his head back into the pickup. His voice was shrill with fear. “We’ve got to get off the road. Now! That’s another kamikaze and it’s coming straight towards us.”

  Cody reached the trunk and pulled it open quietly. When Rachel, still lying curled up in a ball, saw him standing there her eyes lit up. She was about to say something but Cody quickly pressed a finger to his lips and she did the same, letting him know that she understood.

  Reaching inside the trunk, Cody grabbed a handful of ammo and the speed loader. He went to work fast and in a matter of seconds, the Glock was fully loaded.

  “What about this cocksucker?” Cody heard the bald mask say to the driver. “What do we do with him? And what about the girl?”

  “Grab them and put them in the truck,” the driver yelled back. His voice was by now hoarse with panic. “But we’ve got to go – hey! What the…? Where is he? Where is the bastard?”

  “Son of a bitch is trying to sneak off.”

  “Never mind him, let’s get back to the truck!” a frightened voice yelled. “There’s a plane coming down on the highway for Christ’s sake. Who cares about that asshole?”

  “We ain’t leaving without him. He killed my sister.”

  “He’s over there at the trunk trying to run,” Randall said. “Grab him. Grab the girl. But quick.”

  Cody was biding his time. He was standing behind the open lid of the trunk. He winked at Rachel.

  He heard footsteps rushing towards him.

  Cody took a deep breath. Then he closed the trunk and started firing.

  He shot the bald mask first. The nine-millimeter bullet ripped a dime-sized hole through the man’s skull and a gargled gasp was all he could manage before he fell. The four other men panicked when they saw that Cody was back to shooting at his best. Survival instincts kicked in. The plan to seize Cody and Rachel was abandoned and they all fled back towards the Chevrolet in a disorganized mess.

  The light coming off the plane was getting closer. The noise of the engine was louder. It felt dangerous just to be there. People on the highway were jumping off the road on either side, taking their chances in the trees and in the open spaces that lay beyond the 281. Others were racing down the highway back towards San Antonio, convinced that the plane wasn’t going to land on the road.

  They were too close to it. From where he stood, Cody was certain the plane was targeting the road.

  The masks hurried back to the pickup. Cody knew that he couldn’t let them go, not this time. There was every chance that the bastards would find him again further down the highway and try their luck. Maybe they’d find him at the airport. It would just go on and on until they killed him and took Rachel. Or until he killed them.

  He had to protect her. That was his job, no matter how grim.

  He chased after the fleeing men, dropping them one at a time like skittles. He felt nothing as he watched them go down. Meanwhile, Randall the driver saw what was happening and in a state of panic, he slammed his foot down and the red Chevrolet
began to roll down the highway.

  Cody pointed the pistol at the cab. He had a solid lock on the old man’s head and all it would take was one more shot. Squeeze the trigger and wipe them out. One big happy family, all dead and spared the horrors of Mary Jane’s ‘New America’.

  But Cody didn’t shoot. His arm fell to the side.

  It wasn’t that kind of world yet.

  The Chevrolet sped down the 281, charging towards San Antonio at high speed. Cody looked over his shoulder at the plane descending towards the highway. It might have been a Cessna. He saw the small wingspan, the twin turbofan engines – it probably held no more than five or six people inside.

  “Holy shit,” he said.

  Those poor people on the road were trying to get away. But they were caught like a flock of rabbits in the plane’s headlights. Their high-pitched screams filled the air and Cody saw the inevitability of the situation. It was a horrifying sight that was about to get worse.

  He couldn’t help them. Nobody could. He only had enough hero left inside him to save his little girl – he hoped.

  Another glance at the plane. The Black Widow – she was up there, whispering in the pilot’s ear and telling him to do it. But who else was in that plane with her and the pilot? Was it another case of someone paying an extortionate amount of money to charter a private aircraft in order to get home? Maybe they’d taken their family members aboard. Was there a child on the plane?

  “Dad?”

  Rachel’s voice pulled Cody back, reminding him of the urgency of the situation. Turning around, he hurried over to the car and stood by the trunk. The lid was slightly ajar but he couldn’t see inside.

  “It’s me,” he said, knocking on the lid. “I’m okay. The masks are all gone.”

  “I want to come out.”

  Cody looked at the plane coming towards them.

  “I want you to stay in here for a little longer,” he said.

  “Let me out!”

  “Trust me,” Cody said. And with that he slammed the trunk shut, ignoring her cries as he climbed back into the Dodge.