When sorrows come, they come not single spies but in battalions.
Dan knew he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to find out just how many men foolishly allowed Baxter to lead them to their death.
One of the plastic boxes began to trill sharply and a red LED flashed on, this was followed by a second, and then in rapid succession three more lights lit up.
Dan smiled.
He picked up the other box and extended a small antenna; this box had three switches.
Dan looked out at the wooded ridgeline, the smile still on his face.
Dan flicked the first switch.
Even from nearly five miles away the thundering boom of an explosion rolled over Dan. He saw the ridge turn to red, red like the very depths of Hell, as powerful C4 charges that Dan had meticulously set ignited.
Dan had spent months drilling holes in to hundreds of trees, each hole was the circumference of a silver dollar coin. Each drilled hole was packed with C4 explosive, a charger had then been inserted in to the putty-like substance, he had then spent hours smearing dirt and leaves over each hole to obscure the explosive.
Now, as the C4 went off, Dan could only imagine the devastation and carnage caused when a hundred trees were blown to smithereens, sending wooden shards of shrapnel through the air at incredible rates of velocity.
Dan chuckled, he counted to five and hit the second switch and a blast, this one farther away, boomed across the landscape. In his mind’s eye he could see the effects of thick tree trunks exploding outwards.
Dan wished he could be up there to see shards of splintered wood tearing through tender meat, ripping men to pieces.
Dan smiled as he imagined the confusion up on the ridge, cut off from both the front and behind, survivors would be trapped. Dan continued to chuckle and he flicked the third switch.
The concussive blast was felt even from this far away and Dan couldn’t help but laugh. He was caught up in the madness of war, for that was how he saw this, a war and there would be only one survivor.
He’d once promised Chloe that he would see the world burn to dust before he would allow any harm to come to her. He looked towards the burning ridgeline and the flames burning through the dry grassy slopes and he smiled.
Dan doubted that anyone had survived the detonations on the ridge, but if by some miracle someone had survived the devastation caused by three hundred trees ripping apart, he was confident that they would see the wiser path, and would get the fuck out of Montana.
At no point during the last two minutes as he had set off each wave of destruction had he considered that an innocent had been out for an early morning stroll. There was no hunting within twenty miles of his ranch and the trails favoured by hikers were farther to the west.
Dan knew that if he was being truthful it wouldn’t have mattered one way or the other. When it really got down to it, all Dan cared about was Chloe and as of earlier today the child that she now carried. Dan could theorise and philosophise for hours but deep down, beneath the man that Chloe had made him, he knew that he was not so different from his brother Terry and killing people that you didn’t know or cared about was as easy as swatting a fly.
The first plastic box began to beep and Dan glanced down at it, now the LEDs were flashing green, informing him that there was movement out on the highway. Tiny cameras that he had installed out on the highway had picked up passing vehicles and had sent an alert back to the ranch.
Dan picked up the rifle and took up a position near the corner of the porch where he would have a perfect view down the track that led out to the highway.
He moved on to his front and lay down, he flicked the powerful scope to life. Dan looked through the scope and the pre-dawn darkness turned green as the scope’s powerful night vision kicked in and within moments he was zeroed in on the entrance to his land. If any vehicles turned in from the highway he would have the perfect visual.
After the excitement of the explosions Dan took several long, deep breaths and he waited patiently for the next stage to unfold.
*****
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
At the same time that Dan was getting in to a shooting position Tile was helping Chloe to climb up in to the cab of his pick-up, as the door’s rusting hinges squealed painfully Chloe asked if the truck would actually get them out to the ranch.
‘Don’t worry about the ole girl; she’s got it where it counts.’
Tile managed to not actually look at Chloe’s ass for whole seconds at a time. He breathed a sigh of relief when she finally scooted in to the cab and settled back in to the worn leather seat with a groan of pain.
Tile closed the door and walked around the back of the truck, he opened the driver’s side door and his vision was filled with the twin barrels of the sawn-off shotgun.
Chloe had managed to slide across in to the driver’s seat.
‘What the hell Chloe!’ Tile said.
‘Sorry Tile, but I’ll take it from here, give me the keys.’
‘Look Chloe, I told Dan that...’
The cocking of the sawn-off’s twin hammers silenced Tile.
‘Keys.’
Tile handed up the ignition keys. ‘You’re in no fit state to be driving.’
‘Cartridges?’
‘What?’
‘Cartridges for the gun?’
Tile chuckled; he couldn’t believe this young woman’s tenacity. ‘There’s a box in the glove-box.’
Chloe slammed the door and wound the window down. ‘I’m sorry Tile but there’s gonna be a lot of killing. I’d rather not have a witness to any of the shit that needs doing.’
‘It’s not my first rodeo Chloe, I can keep my mouth shut, let me help you.’
Chloe twisted the ignition key and the engine roared to life, she dropped the stick in to reverse and tugged the handbrake off.
‘See you Tile.’
Tile jumped back as the pick-up reversed in a spray of gravel. He watched Chloe reversing back across the vacant lot, in a squeal of brakes she spun the pick-up in a tight circle. Tile heard the grinding of gears and then the pick-up shot forwards on to the main road and headed in the direction of the ranch.
Tile rubbed his hands across his face, the three day stubble grating against the coarseness of his palms.
‘Well shit,’ he said to the vacant lot. ‘I mean well shit!’
Tile turned as he heard an engine, his hopes that it was Chloe having second thoughts were dashed when the Sheriff’s department patrol car pulled in to the lot. He watched as the deputy parked it.
Tile grunted.
‘Ah fuck it, what else have you got to do with your life?’
Tile walked across the empty lot and reached the patrol car just as the young deputy swung the door open and started to climb out.
Tile yanked the deputy to his feet and slammed his forehead in to the young deputy’s face. The deputy dropped like a lead weight and Tile quickly relieved the unconscious deputy of his service pistol and the car’s keys.
Tile got in behind the wheel and slammed the door, he started the engine, hit the gas and took off after Chloe.
*****
CHAPTER TWENTY.
Chloe felt bad about lying to Tile, when he had helped her slip by the hospital staff she had claimed to be far weaker and in more pain than she had actually been in. She had bided her time until the moment was right.
Now as she pushed the pick-up on in to the red, the pain that she had fully been expecting, hit her and she winced. She glanced down and lifted the shirt from her stomach, the thick bandaging was still white - she hadn’t torn her stitches.
Chloe steadied her breathing as she finally left the town of Rockspur. She pressed the accelerator to the floor and the pick-up gave her another ten miles an hour. She was now at the pick-up’s limit and she concentrated on the road ahead.
Chloe saw the black Mercedes pull out behind her as she rounded a long bend in the road. In the distance she could see orange and red flickering agains
t the dawning skyline and she smiled, she figured Dan had activated the first of their security measures.
The Mercedes was closing on her. Chloe reached for the sawn-off shotgun lying on the seat next to her, she checked that it was still cocked and she switched the shotgun to her left hand and kept the wheel steady with her right.
Chloe eased up slightly on the pick-up and she slowed until the Mercedes was level with her door. She glanced down at the other car and she watched as the Mercedes’ windows started to lower.
Chloe grinned and raised the sawn-off, she put her left hand out of her open window, aimed quickly at the front right tyre and pulled the trigger.
The recoil was immense and she yelped at the yanking pain in her shoulder and stomach, but she managed to hold on to the sawn-off. Chloe whooped as the front right tyre of the Mercedes shredded beneath the powerful spray of the shotgun.
The driver over-steered and the Mercedes began to swerve away from the pick-up. Chloe fired the second load in to the rear passenger window of the Mercedes, she thought she saw a spray of blood from within the car but then the Mercedes was bouncing out to the side of the road and she quickly left it behind.
Chloe emptied the shotgun and she managed to get two fresh cartridges loaded without too much hassle. She rested the shotgun across her naked thighs and once more pushed the pick-up to its limit.
Chloe came around a final bend in the road before the road straightened out for the home stretch, as she came out of the bend she had to slow the pick-up to almost a crawl.
There was debris all over the road. Lengths of shattered trees, some still burning lay all over the road and the ridge to her right was a mess.
It looked like a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie - shattered trees and burning stumps and in the light of the flickering flames she could even saw a body part or two. At the bottom of the ridge near the road were two trucks, small delivery types, and both were wrecked from falling debris.
Chloe cleared the last of the obstacles in the road and floored it.
Chloe yelped as the front of the pick-up slammed in to a black-clad man that had staggered out in to the path of the vehicle. The man was quickly lost beneath the truck. Chloe smiled when she felt the truck bouncing over him and she hoped that the tyres had connected with his head.
‘They fucking shot our horses!’
Chloe spotted another man about fifty yards ahead on the right, he was clutching the remains of his left arm to his chest. Chloe altered her trajectory and the pick-up’s front grill smashed in to the man, pulverising his chest, sending shattered ribs back in to his lungs and heart, he was dead before the pick-up bounced over him.
Chloe steered back out in to the middle of the road and continued on towards the ranch.
‘Three miles,’ she said to the empty cabin, she just hoped that she wasn’t too late.
*****
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.
After the desolation of the ridge Dan had anticipated a full on assault and as he tracked four vehicles swing in on to the dirt track his assumption was proved correct.
Dan looked at the plastic box with the three switches, having used the switches to set off the multitude of explosives up on the ridge the trio of small switches had a second purpose.
Dan pushed all three switches, simultaneously setting them back in to their original positions, and the early morning was once again torn apart as explosives rigged in to the dirt track all went off at once.
Dan missed the first vehicle being blown in half but he did see what happened to the remaining three vehicles - the scope’s capabilities showed the carnage in exacting detail.
The first one hundred yards of dirt track were rigged with remote-activated landmines. The vehicles were met with concussive blasts from beneath, metal and human meat was shredded, and as the dust finally settled, and the explosive concussions faded Dan watched as twisting sculptures of torn metal rained down.
Two vehicles, both small delivery vans were nothing more than twisted heaps and one of the two Mercedes that had turned in from the highway was almost split in two.
Dan watched as the driver’s door was nudged open. Dan tightened his finger on the rifle’s trigger and waited. He watched as the driver staggered from the car. The driver had no arms, just bloody shoulder stumps and Dan eased up on the trigger. He wasn’t going to ease the bastard’s pain.
Dan continued to watch until the driver dropped to his knees where he remained, the driver’s head dropped forwards until his chin rested on his chest, he didn’t move.
Dan surveyed the rest of the area and watched as the last Mercedes rolled to a halt on burning tyres. It was the only vehicle that had survived, flames flickered from beneath the hood but overall it was still in reasonable shape.
Dan guessed that the vehicle had been reinforced and he assumed that Baxter would be in this vehicle.
The rear doors of the Mercedes were opened and Dan could hear the sound of machine gun fire. Through the scope he could see flames exploding from the muzzles of the weapons. At a distance of almost a mile Dan knew that the shooters were just making noise, laying down suppressive fire, they had no hope of hitting him.
Dan waited and his patience paid off and he pulled the trigger.
What felt like minutes, but was only a second and a half, passed and Dan smiled as the man’s head he had been aiming at ceased to exist. Unlike in films, there was no fine crimson spray of blood, no neat little entry hole (that was all cinematic bullshit), in the real world, a bullet fired at that distance, from a rifle like the one Dan was using, the effect was overwhelming in its brutality. The round would hit with the force of a sledgehammer connecting with an egg after a full swing and the effect was the same. The man’s head was ripped in to a hundred pieces, the force of the round striking was so powerful that the man’s neck was torn away from the man’s shoulders.
Dan watched the whole thing unwind and he grinned at the final result.
Dan caught movement and saw a second man take off running, heading up the dirt track towards the highway.
Dan inhaled, he exhaled - breathing out half of the air he had inhaled.
He pulled the trigger and waited.
The bullet found its target, drilling through the man’s lower back, separating the legs from the body as the bullet’s velocity and concussive power tore through flesh and bone.
Dan scoped back on the car and he watched as it erupted in a huge fireball, the car folding at its middle.
Dan checked the dirt track looking for movement but apart from the flickering flames nothing moved.
Dan left the rifle on the porch’s decking and pushed himself up on to his knees. He put a hand on the railing and eased himself to his feet. Dan pulled one of the Glocks from his shoulder rig. He stepped down from the porch, he could see the ridge still burning and out on the highway he saw fresh headlights nearing the turn-in. He turned back to pick up the rifle.
The first three rounds caught Dan between the shoulder-blades, the vest’s armour plating stopped the rounds from killing him, but the hits still hurt and their force sent him crashing forwards on to the steps.
Dan fought to get his breath and he managed to roll on to his left side.
The fourth round went in to the exposed flesh of his side, and as he fought to breathe Dan knew that the round had pierced his lung, he cried out and fell back on to his back.
The fifth round took him high in the right shoulder and his gun fell from his hand and Dan yelled out his anger and frustration.
The sixth and seventh shots slammed in to his chest and he felt ribs breaking beneath the impacts of bullet hitting steel plate.
Dan coughed up blood and he struggled to get at his remaining Glock. He didn’t have the strength and he heard two more shots, at first he couldn’t feel where they had hit him, then the screaming in his stomach started and he knew, that just like Chloe, he had been shot in the gut.
‘Motherfucker,’ he managed softly.
He lo
wered his good arm and his hand felt the tear in his abdomen low on the right-hand side. He felt lower until his fingers felt arterial blood spurting from high on his right thigh.
Dan knew that he was done, his femoral artery was pissing out blood like a broken fire hydrant.
Dan found himself starting to chuckle.
He pushed his fingers and thumb in to the wound in his thigh, he felt the artery spewing away his life, and he pinched the artery between his thumb and forefinger.
Dan had known pain over the years but this was like nothing that he could have ever imagined and it took all of his grit and determination to hold the artery clamped shut between his finger and thumb.
Before he died he wanted to look upon the man that had killed him. Dan slowly turned his face until he saw the short balding man in a silver shark skin suit step in to his field of vision.
Despite the excruciating pain Dan couldn’t help it and he began to laugh, each bawl of laughter sent lances of pain shooting through his body.
Dan began to cough, he spat blood, and finally he said, ‘I don’t believe it, I’ve been killed by a fucking mobster cliché.’
‘Laugh it up asshole,’ Baxter said. ‘I gotta admit you sure put on a show, damn when those trees went off I swear I pissed myself, do you know how much this suit cost me?’
Baxter was six feet away and he kept his pistol aimed firmly at Dan.
‘I guess you didn’t see me coming across the field, guess you were too fucking busy blowing up my fucking cars, my fucking men!’
Dan coughed up even more blood.
Not long now.
‘No, you got me,’ Dan croaked and then he smiled up at Baxter. ‘But I still get to see you die.’
‘Is that right asshole, you’re the one lying there in a pool of blood and piss with your guts hanging out.’
‘That’s a SigSauer P226,’ Dan said after another coughing fit.
‘Yeah so?’
‘Nine round clip.’
‘What?’ Baxter said.
On Deadly Ground (Dan & Chloe Book 2) Page 12