by Angela White
Against her single protest, Adrian had put her in the rear of his semi with half a dozen resentful sentries and it was the first time she had spoken.
“Less than a minute,” she stated worriedly. “Tell them to get under cover!”
Neil hesitated, torn. That was Adrian down there, should he–?
“Do something!” she hissed.
When he still didn’t move, Angela shoved him aside, grabbing the Maglite from his belt. She slapped it into Jeremy’s hands, unsure of the code. “Get them under cover and do it now!”
Jeremy was also reluctant to disturb the cutting team, but her tone of command was impossible to ignore and he sent the message with a worried heart. Adrian would be pissed if she were wrong.
There was no response, but all of them were relieved to see the cutting team truck immediately pull onto a crowded side-road near the bridge and steer the front of the semi so that it appeared nearly jackknifed. Parked next to several buildings, once the slavers went by, the men could abandon the truck and escape.
“There’s the tank!”
“Everyone hit the deck!” Neil ordered, realizing they might be discovered at the first swing of headlights.
There was a scramble to get down as the sounds of engines came to them through the heavy rain. Inside the vulnerable semi, Eagles also ducked out of sight.
“When the bridge goes, they’ll be trapped down there,” Angela realized, wishing she’d spoken up sooner.
“Adrian isn’t trapped anywhere,” Jeremy soothed. “And he’ll bring all of them home.”
Grateful she had warned them, he gave her a nod of respect. “It’s the way he trains us and that’s the way we’ll train you.”
All around her, men stiffened in surprise at Jeremy’s acceptance. He was Neil’s XO, highly respected, and he’d just given his support.
A second later, Angela got a rainy view of the terror stalking her and was suddenly glad Marc had left Dog with Charlie. The wolf would be one last defense if these evil men succeeded tonight.
The trailer carrying the tank rolled over the rain-slicked pavement with a single jeep in front of it and a cluster behind. More than fifty clearly armed men travelled toward the bridge, already on the same street as Adrian’s semi.
Everyone held their breath as the slavers began to roll by that truck, hoping the Eagles inside were well hidden.
The group went very slowly, it seemed to those watching, and each shadowy pistol and rifle was a reminder of how close they were to the boss.
“Someone’s coming fast,” Angela warned them again. “Up here.”
Instead of the tension she expected, relief filled the truck. The men were positive it was Adrian.
Coming through the muddy woods, Adrian and Kenn were first, with Marc right behind them, and Angela couldn’t stop the small smile of welcome when their eyes met.
Marc sighed, anger fading. Why am I always so lost with her?
Kenn also felt emotions at her response, but with Adrian so close, he was forced to swallow it.
After verifying everyone (Angela) was accounted for, Adrian made hand motions to push the remaining truck over the hill in neutral until they were far enough to avoid being heard.
Those inside made room for all but a few of the returning team, while Kenn went to tell the driver. Those leaving would take shifts pushing, while those staying would follow on foot.
Able to feel Neil’s longing to stay (it matched her own), Angela carefully slid from the truck and joined Adrian. Two men jumped down behind her and she moved faster to avoid another argument with Marc. She didn’t have to ask him. He wasn’t in charge.
Her gaze kept being pulled from the muddy ground to the line of jeeps and one transport truck now approaching the bridge. They had a clear view from up here.
Adrian only stared at her for a long moment and then continued observing the enemy. The tank would go down with the bridge and that meant the forty-odd men trapped on this side with them would have to be handled.
“What’s that sound?”
They stilled at her question, able to feel it under their feet, even so far above the town. It echoed hungrily, bearing down on Howes like a missile.
“What is it?”
No one answered. They couldn’t, astonished by the sight of death rushing toward the unsuspecting group of killers.
The transport truck was the next to cross, one jeep already waiting on the opposite bank, and none of the Mexicans detected the louder roar or the extra echoes under their tires. Down in the town, the storm was raging.
The wall of debris-laden water swept downstream, wider than the bank as it slammed into the first bridge pillar with no mercy. The jeep on the opposite bank vanished under the flood and didn’t surface.
The bridge trembled, swaying as the sabotaged beams gave way, and the transport carrier tilted precariously over the new abyss.
The wall of water snagged the front bumper, ripping it free of the dock, and the entire load of truck, tank, and bridge fell into the violently churning waves.
Behind it, the slavers tried to reverse, but most were too slow to avoid being swept away. The only ones to get clear were the two rear jeeps and as if sensing survivors, the torrent of water spilt between the dock and street, roaring through the narrow road in pursuit.
Adrian’s semi was pulled out by the waves, and the slower of the two jeeps swerved sharply to the right to miss crashing into it. The taillights flashed as the driver tried to stop, but it was too late and they went over the side of the dock. A huge spray rose in their wake.
The second jeep was gaining ground on the water, staying ahead, and Adrian grabbed the rifle.
“Follow my lead.” He got set, and Kenn and Marc did the same on either side of him.
Neil was almost whining with frustration from not being in on the action, but he knew better than to shirk his unspoken duty to protect Angela right now and he stayed with her.
Making fast adjustments, Adrian braced as the jeep charged up the hill they were on.
“Now!” Adrian saw it go perfectly in his mind, and then fired.
The shot punched into the windshield, instantly spraying the inside with scarlet gore, and the jeep veered violently to the left. The two men inside scrambling for the wheel jerked simultaneously as two more shots tore into the vehicle.
Out of control, the jeep rammed onto a downed tree, and lifted off the ground. It slammed to the earth in a loud, metal-spraying crash, landing on its top.
The flattened vehicle rolled once, this time ending up in the mud-slickened grass and it began to flip down the hill, scattering debris. The Eagles watched in shock as it hit the flooded main street and sank into the merciless waves still thundering through the town.
Overhead, the storm abated.
Adrian forced himself to dismiss the death, refusing to shoulder it yet. There would be more of that. “Next time, we’ll take them all.”
He slapped Kenn and Marc on the shoulder and moved toward Angela, shouldering his weapon as the two Marines did the same. “Let’s get home. Mission accomplished.”
Angela fell in between him and Marc at Kenn’s wave, and tried to prepare herself for a short, miserably happy walk to catch up with the others. They were safe again for a little while.
And next time? the Witch asked curiously. What then?
Next time, I’ll do my part and no one will hold me back.
5
Doug had done a good job of covering for their absence. By the time the team arrived, the big Irishman had the camp set up in the basement of a steel distributer. Happily exploring the undamaged factory, most of the people thought Adrian was helping with outside patrols until the men with car trouble could catch up.
When Adrian finally slipped inside, soaked and red eyed, no one questioned. It was the same for the Eagles, and the camp slept easier knowing how many high level men had been watching out for them. Even Angela’s absence was covered with a few words about being on duty.
Rick decided he would have to make contact as soon as Adrian lifted the blackout. He knew something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t verify it unless he found a sentry with a loose tongue. Knowing if he was now on his own, was a valuable piece of information to have.
Things had worked out even better than Adrian had hoped. They could relax for a few days once they made it to the Stateline for the pickups he had chosen from the mental map Angela gave him. Out of the three places he’d tried so far, two had held people willing to come along without much convincing. The third, they’d made stubborn contact with once and tried to tell of the danger coming, but without any luck. They would try once more before dropping down into Nebraska, but they didn’t have to run for their lives now.
Unlike the slavers, he and his army knew how to use the tools of the government, and one of their trucks held a pontoon setup. They would double back and avoid the badlands meeting that Cesar was sure to be hoping for. It would put weeks of distance between the two groups, and if the slavers went far enough north, the radiation zones might even take care of the problem for them.
6
“Why have we stopped?”
Dean was shouting to be heard over the wind and the angry Mexicans around him scowled, but didn’t interfere. The black man had lost track of Safe Haven in the storm and wanted to keep following, even though there was no longer a bridge to cross. He didn’t care that the tank team still wasn’t answering their calls or that it appeared a destructive battle had happened at this crossing recently. All he cared about was revenge.
“Hey!”
José stepped in front of Dean before he could grab Cesar’s arm. “Stop shouting!”
Dean gave the scarred man a hard shove. “Move!”
Not expecting it, José toppled backward into the mud and the men laughed in cruel amusement.
Dean stomped toward Cesar again and José picked himself up with cold fury, drenched in the brown muck.
The remaining twin heard him coming and spun around, swinging from the hip.
José hit the ground again with a wet slap and the laughter increased.
“Stay down, Josey!” Dean snarled, stomping toward the Mexican leader who had finally rotated to discern what was causing the laughter.
Humiliated, José’s hand went for his pistol and the laughter stopped.
Just as he fired, Dean lunged for the muddy ground and the slug pinged harmlessly off Cesar’s hood.
Up in a moment, Dean stalked to the younger man with no signs he feared the weapon still aimed at him.
José panicked, pulling the trigger again, and men ducked as the shot went wild.
Dean hit the mud again for the next bullet, rolling to avoid another, and then he was on his feet and coming in at a fast run.
José screamed in rage and fear, firing again. A wild slug hit the furious devil flying his way, but it didn’t stop him!
Dean half spun as the bullet tore through his upper arm and he rolled as José fired a last time. That Mexican would die now!
He dove at the ugly fighter, twisting to miss the knife, and then he hit José.
Cesar reluctantly saved his cousin’s life. He had no doubts José was after command, but he wasn’t through with the youngster yet. When he was, the real lesson would be taught and it wouldn’t come from this angry soldier.
Cesar stepped over to Dean with a fast lunge that his men both admired and feared, and wrapped Dean up tightly.
“His life is mine. So is yours!”
Dean struggled against the blade for only a minute, the words sinking in.
Cesar tossed him roughly away and the men surrounding them had their weapons pointed at Dean before he gained his feet.
Some of Dean’s anger was eased by the sight of the blood José was spitting at his boots. There would be more of that.
“We stop when I say, go when I say.”
José had pushed himself up, hand inching toward his spare gun, and Cesar delivered a brutal kick to his ribs that sent him rolling into the crowd, where he was stomped on when he tried to get to his feet.
“Stay down!” Cesar barked. “I will deal with you!”
The leader swiveled to discover Dean grinning and the guerilla surveyed the black man thoughtfully. “His pain makes you happy?”
“It’s second only to hers.”
Cesar’s gold tooth glinted. “I have promised you her death. Do not make me kill you before I can keep my word.”
“Don’t underestimate them, Cesar.” Dean tried to reason with the slaver, much calmer with so many guns pointed his way. “Hit them now, while they’re on the road.”
“With what?” Cesar demanded. “Our tank and team is missing and there is no bridge to cross! We will have to go around and these men desire a break.”
There were mutters of agreement that told the evil leader he’d made the right choice. Passing that town, sparing those survivors so he could get close enough to attack Safe Haven, had been a mistake, but he would fix it right now.
“We will circle to where they were hiding in the church and spend a few days teaching them our religion.”
The slaver waited for the cheers to die down. The unrest of his men had caused him to consider their wants and now that he had, Cesar liked his new plan better. “I will have them, but it does not have to be tonight señor. We have nothing but time now, si? Time while Richard throws them into chaos.”
Dean’s growl was the only protest he made and Cesar waved a hand. “You will go find them and keep me informed.”
Dean stalked off without another word and Cesar wondered if he would do it. There was a stiffness to his stride that said he wasn’t returning without a good reason. Not that it mattered. Once these men had been rested, the slaver would put them back on the trail of Safe Haven. He’d rushed them, and made a foolish choice that he couldn’t afford to repeat unless he wanted to be taking his cousin’s orders. The men didn’t like José, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t follow him if his deal were better. At some point, José would have to be eliminated.
Chapter Six
The Madness Spreads
April 11th
Luke’s cabin on Pitcairn Island
1
They need you…
The words flew through the fog, stealing Kendle’s breath.
You have to go back!
She jerked upright, startled from her nightmare by the sound of it.
Kendle shivered in the darkness, trying to make herself remember exactly who (what!) had been speaking to her from the mist.
She glanced at the dim firelight and the cabin door. Everything was in its place.
She listened for the sound of Luke’s breathing below her. It was even, calm, and Kendle forced herself to lie down.
Just a dream, she told herself, over and over until her lids began to droop and she yawned. “Just a dream.”
They need you!
Her lids flew open to discover Ethan’s leering countenance inches from hers.
You have to go home!
He lunged for her throat, infected fingers reaching out.
Kendle screamed, waking herself up.
Luke flew from the top bunk and pulled her into his arms an instant later.
Kendle clung to him, knuckles in her mouth to stifle a second scream.
Luke rocked her as best he could. When she shuddered, he gently pulled her into his big arms and proceeded to the chair, dragging her quilt along.
She melted into his lap as he settled in the recliner, a huddling ball of live nerves. He rubbed
her arm as he got them rocking. “Shhh...”
Kendle sucked in a tortured breath, keeping her hand near her mouth. Not the worst by far, it was still among her least favorite of repeat dreams and she tried to concentrate on the steady beat of Luke’s heart under her cheek.
Luke wanted to tell her she could talk about it, but didn’t, certain she wasn’t the kind to do that anymore than he was. Some things you had to suffer on your own. Her nightmares came often, though, most didn’t end with a shriek. He hated feeling helpless, but didn’t know what else he could do for her. Their garden was full of half-foot high seedlings in uneven rows that they tended daily. They were shopping with the crazy woman across the creek so they didn’t have to have fish every night. Other than that, it was just them, alone together.
Luke shifted at that thought. She hadn’t come to him yet, but the light was growing. Soon, he would make her his, and then things would get complicated. Because once she regained her self-confidence, she’d want to go home and he would never be able to let her do that alone.
Kendle felt the warm comfort of his big body and the soothing motions of the chair, but the fear had caused a desperate worry. She’d had the Ethan dream for last three nights and though Luke thought it was just her mind mixing things together, Kendle wasn’t sure. The island Playboy hadn’t even spoken to her again after telling her she should be with her own kind, but twice yesterday, she was positive she was being observed as they worked on the garden. After so much time alone, it was a feeling that was impossible to miss and she worried things weren’t over with the Kraft heir.
Speaking of Kraft heirs, she thought, picturing the Sheriff in her mind. It hadn’t occurred to her while they were there, but if Jenna was the Mayor’s daughter, then Cole was his grandson. The sheriff was also a Kraft and therefore, couldn’t be trusted. There was a lot going on here that Luke didn’t want to talk about, didn’t want her to become a part of, but Kendle feared their involvement might be mandatory.
Then, there was the stress of her new obsession. Finding a way home was something she’d begun to worry over. She hadn’t talked to Luke about it yet, but was sure he suspected why she now insisted they spend every free moment working out or running through the jungles. She was slowly getting stronger and he had to know it was coming.