The red car pushed hard against the Rover, the driver of which swerved the wheel away from the collision and towards the edge of the road, then over-corrected in an effort to regain control. The red car shot ahead as the Rover turned too sharply toward the center of the road. The Rover’s tires caught on the pavement and flipped, slamming its side into the asphalt before continuing its mad roll. The lead Rover swerved to avoid the wreckage, but was too late—the front end smashed into the underside of the rolling Rover. The two vehicles crunched together, their metal frames twisting and writhing, spurring debris and shattered glass. The momentum of the second Rover carried both off the side of the road in a heap of wreckage, the truck swerving to avoid pieces of the cars still left in the road. For two sickening seconds, the abrupt swerve caused the wheels on the right side lift into the air. It hung like that, tires screaming and smoking, then slammed back onto the road, continuing forward.
The sudden attack, coming after three of the four cars had passed without incident, took Dr. Whaler and the rest of the team by surprise. Seconds ticked by as they reeled with the understanding of what they’d just seen. The doctor stared at the monitors, unable to believe what had happened. A single car had taken out two of the military escorts as if they were minor inconveniences.
“Should we stop?” the technician asked, motioning to the smoking wreckage on the screens, growing smaller the further away they drove.
“No!” Dr. Whaler screamed, spittle flying and near hysterics rising in his voice. “You keep this truck moving, no matter what! You don’t stop this thing! And you get the others ready to defend this convoy, whatever it takes.”
“Yes, sir.” The technician relayed orders through the radio and nodded at Dr. Whaler.
“Weapons hot, sir.”
He turned to another monitor, this one showing the road in front of the trucks. He looked for the tail lights of the cars but saw none. The road stretched out as far as he could see, but there was no sign of the four cars.
“Where did they go?” Dr. Whaler asked, fighting desperately to keep his voice calm and collected despite the insane ravings he felt inside. He wanted to pound the sides of the truck and scream. Where was Morales? This was HIS job!
“Unclear, sir.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Whooeee, Brooke!” Patrick shouted. “That there was some sexy maneuvering!”
“Nice job,” Ryan echoed. He pulled ahead of the pack and gunned the engine, speeding forward. The others followed suit.
“Thank you, boys. Had to show you how it’s done.” Brooke’s voice was sultry over the speakers, and Ryan had to laugh. He looked over at Adam, who seemed frozen in place, his face pale and his hands gripping his armrest tightly.
“You okay?” Ryan asked.
“Did Brooke just kill those people, back there?”
“That isn’t up to us. Luck mostly, but probably they didn’t die,” Ryan said. “Besides, given the opportunity, they would have killed us. You saw how it was when they attacked my house to take Mae. They burned it down, left me for dead. You too, if I remember right.”
Adam didn’t say anything more, just turned and looked straight ahead.
“Go dark everyone, and let them pass.” Ryan killed the lights and pulled over to the side of the road as they rounded a curve. He checked the mirror, waiting for the convoy to pass. He was sure they wouldn’t stop. For whatever reason, they were protecting Mae and wouldn’t risk the heightened exposure of stopping.
No, the convoy would continue on, passing Ryan and the others hopefully without detecting their presence. They would come up behind them again, this time without lights, without the element of surprise. Ryan was sure that they would be ready for them this time. He ran through several scenarios in his mind before making a decision. They couldn’t risk trying to flip the truck, as that would put Mae’s life at risk. Likewise, given the size of the truck, they wouldn’t be able to force them to stop. Even if they barricaded the road, the truck would just plow through the parked cars. It would either continue on or the truck would wreck, again risking Mae’s life.
“I need you to drive,” Ryan said and unclipped his seatbelt.
“Why?”
“I need to get on the truck while it’s moving. It’s going to be the only way to stop them without putting Mae at risk.”
Adam slid over to the driver’s seat while Ryan got out of the car and hurried around to the passenger seat. They buckled, and Ryan spoke into his phone to the others.
“Okay, when they pass, we give them thirty seconds before following again,” Ryan said. “I would imagine they’ll have guns. They’re military, or at least have military training, so expect a good fight.”
“You see, having guns about now would have been good,” Sam said.
“We’re not here to fight anyone, because we’d probably lose. We get Mae and run, and we’ll outrun them.”
“So, you’re a flight kind of guy,” Sam said.
“Sam, shut up!” Dani said. She sounded nervous, and not a little annoyed at her husband.
“They’re coming up now,” Patrick said. A second later, the convoy rounded the curve, the truck followed by the remaining two Range Rovers and the police cars, this time with their lights flashing.
“Okay, get ready,” Ryan said, his heart beating loudly. Adam revved the engine and the car rumbled and roared.
b crfl of M Dngrsaaa
Ryan thought about Heather’s text, wondering what she could have meant. Guess we’ll just have to see if we can’t save Mae and find out.
Ryan ticked off the seconds in his mind, watching the lights grow smaller as they drove further into the distance.
“Brooke and Todd,” Ryan said, “you take the Rover on the left. Patrick and John, the one on the right. Sam and Dani, you handle the squad cars. We work as a team, back each other up, and get them off the road. We need the truck separated from the pack. Keep your lights off. With any luck, we’ll catch them by surprise again.”
“And you, my good man?” Sam asked.
“We’re taking the truck.”
“Well, alright then.”
Ryan ticked off the last few seconds in his mind. It was time.
“Go!” he shouted. “Go as fast as you can!”
Adam slammed the accelerator, and their wheels spun in the dirt and ice on the side of the road for several seconds before catching. They shot forward, the inertia slamming them back. He rode the accelerator hard, pushing the engine to 7,000 revolutions per minute before shifting up. Ryan turned and saw the rest of his team keeping pace. On the phone’s screen, Ryan watched the four colored dots establish a kind of formation, Team Blue and Red on either side of the highway, two car lengths between them, team Orange shooting up the middle.
“We’re taking the lead,” Sam said. This time, there was no levity in his voice, only raw determination. Sam flew down the road, and the others following at breakneck speeds, catching up to the convoy in less than a minute. The two squad cars were in the rear, driving side by side, their lights flashing.
“Get ready for it,” Ryan muttered, and he held his breath, waiting for the first impact.
Chapter Forty
“You see them coming?” Dr. Whaler asked, and the technician nodded. After losing visual sight of the cars a few moments before, they had turned to the satellite imagery. It had taken a few moments, but they were able to locate the four cars, lights turned off and pulled over onto the side of the road. It had been the technician who’d figured out their strategy, suggesting that the cars were waiting to be passed, and would come up from behind again, to take the convoy by surprise a second time, if possible.
There would be no surprise this time. They had passed the cars without incident, and they’d watch the monitors, waiting for the cars to make their move.
But they’re not just cars, Dr. Whaler repeated to himself. There are drivers in those cars, and they meant to attack. Which means they knew about the convoy to begin with.
Who were these people, and how had they learned about this? Or, were these a bunch of teenagers hopped up on bath salts, out for a joy ride and to wreck havoc on the first traffic they came to?
These questions and a million more flashed in his mind as he waited for the attackers to make their move. His heart was racing again, and he found it difficult to breathe. While waiting, he peeked into the room holding the stasis tank and was glad to see it still intact. The IV stand and some of the equipment had tipped during the driver’s precarious maneuvering to avoid crashing with the Rovers, but the tank was still intact, the subject still safely tucked away where she could do no damage.
“They’re on the move,” the technician said, and they watched on the monitors as the cars sped down the road toward them, their speed leaving no questions in Dr. Whaler’s mind. These cars meant to continue their attack, doing what they did with the Rovers.
“Weapons ready,” the technician said. The cars were within fifty meters and closing. They were driving in crude diamond formation, one car in the lead, two cars on either side, and the fourth car bringing up the rear. The first car was headed straight for the squad cars.
Twenty meters.
Ten.
“Open fire,” Dr. Whaler said, and all hell broke loose.
Chapter Forty-One
The two squad cars parted suddenly, leaving the path wide open to the Rovers. The move disoriented Ryan for a split second as he watched Sam shoot up the middle, right between the squad cars. He had time to register the thought—
—they knew we were coming—
—before gunfire exploded from the Rovers. Muzzles flashed, and the reports from firing weapons were like rolling thunderclaps.
From his position at the rear of the group, Ryan watched Sam’s car swerve to the right and then the left.
Sam had not been expecting this.
None of them had.
Later, maybe, but not now. Sparks danced across the hood and roof of Sam’s car as bullets struck the metal. The car swerved a final time, and then careened into one of the squad cars, colliding head on into the side of the car, pushing it off the road.
“Sam!” Ryan shouted, but knew his friend could not hear and would not be listening. They sped past the wreckage, and Ryan thought he heard Sam or Dani screaming.
“Do we stop?” Patrick shouted, his voice crackling through the speakers.
“No! Keep going!” Ryan yelled. He watched the orange dot on the screen of his phone flicker and blink out. Ryan's breath stopped, but he realized that the disappearance of the orange dot meant nothing other than the phone had stopped working or shut down. Sam and Dani might still be okay.
"We've got to take out the squad car," Ryan said. He looked into the back seat and found a hooked steering wheel club in a case on the floor.
"They've got guns, man!" Adam was nearly hysterical. "What do you plan on doing with that thing?"
"When I say, you drop into third gear and get my side of the car as close to the police car as possible."
Ryan disengaged the lock on the club and extended the pieces as far as they would go.
"I'm pretty sure you're not going to take out the car—"
"Now!" Ryan shouted, and Adam dropped the gear and jammed the gas. The engine screamed and the car exploded forward. The gunshots stopped for only a second before raining hellfire down on Adam and Ryan as they came parallel to the squad car.
"Closer!" Ryan lowered the window.
"Are you crazy?"
"Get me closer!"
Adam jerked the wheel and they sideswiped the squad car. In that instant, Ryan swung the steering wheel club against the windshield. The hooked end punched a hole in the glass and a thick web of cracks spiraled out, obscuring the windshield.
"Pull away!" Ryan said, and as soon as they were a few meters from the car, the bullets started flying again. The squad car swerved drunkenly, drifted toward the center of the road, and then jerked to the shoulder. It skidded to a stop, and the convoy continued past.
"Whoa! We did it!" Adam laughed. A line of bullets struck their windshield, tiny holes appearing along the top, the bullets striking the roof. Frigid wind whistled through the holes and Adam stared, dumbstruck.
"Keep moving," Ryan said. "They were aiming for you."
Adam began to jerk across the road, doing his best to avoid the flying bullets. His tires squealed, the sound mixing with the roaring engine and the booming gunshots into a cacophony of noise.
“Get behind me,” Patrick shouted, his car coming up from behind, “I’ll clear the path!"
The blue car pulled into the lead, swerving across the road to make it more difficult for the shooters. Adam drove behind Patrick, keeping close. A barrage of bullets peppered the blue car, mostly ricocheting off the metal, but some punching holes through the body and windshield.
"Lots of shooters, man!" Adam screamed, weaving across the asphalt with jerky swerves.
"On your left!" Brooke shouted, and both Adam and Patrick jerked their cars to the right. The red car, already battered from its first collision, barreled past, slamming into one of the Rovers. The Rover seemed to lose control upon impact, smashing its front end into the rear of the truck, but regaining control seconds later.
Muzzles flashed and the sound of gunshots was deafening and constant.
"Switch it up!" Patrick yelled. He and Brooke both accelerated and swerved across the entire roadway, each smashing into the side of the Rover opposite their original position. The Rovers maintained control, but were momentarily pushed far enough out of the way to clear a path for Adam to shoot past. Bullets punched the side of the car, punching out the rear passenger window. The barrage of bullets stopped as they passed the car, out of sight of the Rovers, but Adam didn't slow down. He was running on adrenaline, not thinking as the engine redlined as he accelerated around the side of the truck, pushing the car as fast as it would go without shifting to a higher gear.
"Careful," Ryan said.
"I'm driving, so just shut up!" Adam yelled.
"Okay," Ryan said. He studied the truck as they passed—a nondescript thing that looked like any other semi truck on the road, though maybe a little wider than usual. The sides were a dirty white and smooth. He'd hoped to see a door or some other opening on the front, but there was none. The rear of the truck would of course be covered by the Rovers. If he attempted to enter there, he would be shot immediately.
So maybe the cab? Stop the truck?
But that raised the issue of the soldiers in the Rovers. Right now, at least a portion of their collective focus was on driving and not wrecking their cars, and only a few had guns and were shooting. If they stopped the convoy, they would be on a level playing field, but the other side would have guns and would all be shooting.
No, he had to get in while they were still moving. If he could get Mae out of the truck without it stopping, that would be ideal.
They passed the cab, and Ryan saw a chrome ladder between the cab and the trailer, leading up to the roof, which meant there might be a hatch or other opening up there.
"I need to lose the door," Ryan said.
"What do you mean?"
Ryan had already opened the door, pushing it as far out as he could. Adam saw what he was doing, pulled to the front of the truck and then tapped his brakes. The truck sped past, ripping the door from its hinges. The door crashed to the road and was gone in a burst of twisted metal and sparks.
“You’re going to jump?” Adam asked.
“Get me close to that open area behind the cab,” Ryan said. The driver of the truck must have realized their plan, and he began to swerve across the road, cutting toward them, then away.
“You’re insane.”
“We’ve got to get Mae,” Ryan shrugged. “Let’s do it.”
“Be careful, man.”
“Stay on this side of the truck. If I can get Mae out of there, I will come back here.”
“Why not just stop the truck?”
�
�They’ll shoot us,” Ryan said, taking a deep breath and timing the jump. “I will go as fast as I can in there, but I don’t know how it’s going to go down.”
“This is crazy, dude. Too crazy,” Adam muttered while shaking his head. “You can’t do this.”
“I have to.”
The truck pulled away and then jerked sharply toward them.
“Now!” Ryan climbed out of his seat and leaned from the open doorway. Adam turned toward the careening truck and straightened out less that a meter from the cab.
Time seemed to stop as Ryan leapt from the car. The jump wasn’t far, and he held his breath as he swept through the air and struck the truck. His entire body slammed into the cab, knocking the wind from his lungs. He snatched a chrome handle on the side and dangled from the speeding truck for several seconds before pulling his feet up onto the steel running board. He leaned forward and grabbed the ladder that went up to the roof.
Ryan saw the holes punching into the side of the truck before he realized what was happening. The staccato sound of gunshots erupted behind him and he saw a Rover speeding down the length of the truck. Muzzles blazed and flashed, and lines of bullet holes appeared on the smooth white walls of the trailer.
Ryan ducked away from the Rover and the firing weapons, but he had nowhere to go. He was fully exposed, and the only thing saving him from being shot was the awkward angle. An angle that would be fixed in seconds as the Rover neared.
Chapter Forty-Two
“No!” Dr. Whaler cried. “No! Nonono!”
The doctor hefted his considerable weight and ran along the narrow corridor, suddenly unfazed at the bullets flying all around. They were shooting the truck! Shooting the truck!
The Snow Swept Trilogy Page 63