“Cell phone. Something. Just hand it over and we’re out of your hair,” Jean jacket said.
Now that he and Bradley were close, Bradley got a whiff of the guy. He must have been living on the streets because he smelled like a dumpster.
The guy in the hoodie held the cash out. Jean Jacket moved on him and reached for the cash with his left hand, his right still brandishing the long blade.
Hoodie moved like a whip. His other hand shot out and grabbed Jean Jacket’s wrist. He twisted it to the left, and then down. Jean Jacket didn’t have time to react. He let out a sharp scream as bones snapped, then he was on his back. Hoodie snapped his foot out and trapped the knife holding hand against the floor. Then he ground it hard until the guy released the knife. The large man leaned over and took the blade.
Ball cap’s eyes went wide, so Bradley punched him right in the nose. He straightened his wrist and forearm just before the blow struck. Knuckles crunched into the man’s face and flesh compacted. Something snapped, and the guy fell back. He reached for his face as blood started to flow.
Bradley didn’t put much thought into the finishing move. He simply kicked the assailant in the balls.
The clerk must have had enough. He dashed into a back room and locked the door.
The guy in the hoodie picked up the knife and looked down at the guy on the floor. He flipped the blade into an overhand grip. Then he looked up and met Bradley’s eyes. He glanced between the father and the two kids. Then he squatted next to the man with the broken wrist.
“You need to go back to whatever shit hole you crawled out of and never try something like that again. You got me?” he said.
Jean Jacket nodded but didn’t try to move. “Yeah. I got it. I’m gone, man.”
The man in the hoodie showed the guy the blade. “Don’t make me put this through your neck.”
Then he rose and approached Bradley.
Bradley wasn’t sure what to expect. Was the guy going to go psycho on him as well? He reached to his waist and pushed the side of the jacket open.
“Easy,” the man said. “Name’s Chris. What do you say we get out of here?”
“Sounds good to me,” Bradley said.
But he waited until Chris made the first move and headed for the door. He didn’t want to turn his back on him.
Before he left the building, Bradley stopped at the chip rack and found a bag of Cheetos. He placed one in his jacket pocket, and dug out a couple of bucks. He left the money on the counter.
When Chris exited the building, he tossed the blade, and then waited in the parking lot for Bradley to catch up.
“Dad, holy crap. That was crazy!” Junior exclaimed.
“Yeah, Mr. Adams. You hit that guy right in the nose. He’s still rolling around in pain. Loser.” Kirk grinned.
“Suggest we get out of here,” Chris said.
“I’m probably not going the same way as you. Thanks for getting us out of trouble back there,” Bradley said.
He didn’t know Chris from Adam, but the man had tried to deescalate the situation, even if it meant taking the knife wielding assailant to the ground. Bradley would have been happy just leaving the subway without any drama. Jesus. Two attacks in two days. The world was truly nuts.
“Can I make a suggestion?” Chris said. “Why don’t we stick together for a little bit. I know you’re packing, and so am I. This is just the beginning, and we don’t know what else we may run into.”
“We don’t need any help, but thanks just the same,” Bradley said, wondering how the man knew he had a gun. Maybe he worked at the psychic hotline on the weekends.
“I didn’t mean to listen in, but I overheard you tell your son that you parked a couple of miles from here. I’ll go that way with you, and then we can part as friends. Strength in numbers and all that. Sound good?”
Bradley chewed on that for a second. The military appeared to be closing in on this area and they had little time to get out of town in case martial law was indeed declared. Maybe he should let the man tag along.
“Fine, just don’t do anything funny,” Bradley said.
“What, like a song and dance? We’re just temporary companions,” Chris said. “What are you carrying? I saw it when your jacket parted in there. Looked like a Kimber.”
“You know your guns,” Bradley said.
He started walking, and Junior and Kirk followed. Chris kept pace beside Bradley.
“Fine weapon. I’m a little light today. Beretta Nano,” Chris said.
“That’s also a good gun. I read that it’s a near perfect piece for C and C.”
“It is,” Chris nodded.
Bradley didn’t have to check his navigation app this time. He knew the general direction and set a quick pace. Kirk and Junior chattered behind him about what they had seen. Then made it sound like they were in an action movie. Bradley didn’t see it like that. He hated to resort to violence, but some people genuinely deserved to be on the receiving end.
“You from around here?” Chris asked Bradley.
“Vicksburg. Got stuck in traffic and had to hoof it to retrieve my son.”
“Oh, I’m from that area, too. My car got stolen about an hour ago. I was waiting for the police but they didn’t show up. Then I saw the National Guard and realized they probably weren’t going to ever make it.”
“Stole your car?”
“Yeah. It’s a mad house in some parts of the city. Guy took my keys at gunpoint, and then roared off in my Toyota. I hope I get that car back, I love it.”
“What is wrong with this place today?” Bradley said. “I mean, besides the shooting. It’s like everyone has gone nuts. Is this all it takes?”
“In some places, it takes less than this. I’ve been overseas. You?” Chris asked Bradley.
“Yeah. Army, you?”
“I did some contract work for the government. You know the kind,” Chris said.
Bradley had a feeling he did know the kind. Since the wars in the Middle East had broken out, a lot of men with certain skills had found employment. He was more pleased by the minute that he’d run into Chris. He knew how to handle himself. If he had military experience, that would be a bonus.
Still, having a backup wasn’t a bad idea for now. But he would have to part ways with Chris as soon as they got in sight of the Bronco.
Bradley was about to ask Chris what kind of work, but his words died on his lips as a tremendous explosion sounded in the distance. He turned to see what had happened and found a huge cloud rising over the Chicago skyline a few miles to the northwest.
“That was unexpected,” Chris said. He shielded the sun with his hand and stared at the expanding mushroom cloud.
“Oh, my god. Was that a nuke?” Junior yelled.
“No. It was a big explosion, though,” Chris said.
“What do you mean it was unexpected?” Bradley asked. He couldn’t seem to look away from the rising cloud.
“I just mean that this is a coordinated attack, I guess. If I’m not mistaken, that’s the location where the shootings happened,” Chris said.
“Shootings. Bombs. The country has lost its damn mind,” Bradley said.
“That it has,” Chris nodded.
Bradley picked up the pace until they were practically speed walking. Chris kept up with Bradley, but Kirk and Junior lagged behind. Bradley slowed until they had caught up. He couldn’t stop scanning everyone on the street for threats. Bradley was worried there could be more attacks at any moment.
People scrambled off the streets around them. Couples ran, hand in hand. Parents dragged their kids. Someone’s dog was loose, a big yellow half-lab, half-mutt that barked at the sky and dashed around a house after nearly getting plowed into by a big 4X4 lifted Ford truck that tore ass across an intersection on the way out of town.
Bradley dug out his phone and pressed Monica’s name but, after fifteen seconds of walking, while holding the handset to his head, and scanning their path ahead, the call didn’t pick up. He hung up and tri
ed again. After the second call failed, he messaged her.
Got Junior and Kirk. On my way home.
“Dad. You’re walking really fast,” Kirk said.
“Because we need to get out of here before this city is under martial law,” Bradley said.
“Dad,” Junior said. “Is martial law as bad as it sounds?”
“You didn’t study that in school?” Bradley asked.
“Not really. Kinda,” Junior said.
“They don’t exactly teach stuff like that these days,” Kirk said in a worldly way that didn’t impress Bradley one bit.
“It’s when the government takes control in an emergency. Civil rights are revoked, and the military takes control of a region. They can search and seize anyone and anything,” Bradley said, trying to summarize what he knew.
He didn’t mention that the military would have the right to take away guns and could shoot looters. He also didn’t mention that freedom of movement could be blocked. There would be a curfew, and lord help anyone out during that time.
They rounded a corner and ran into what was becoming a military blockade. Bradley kept on going, assuming they would be able to walk on by them. The men and women looked out of place on the public street, holding guns and scanning everyone in the vicinity.
Bradley looked over his shoulder again and was still able to make out the cloud of smoke that rose into the air.
One of the soldiers took out a cell phone and aimed it in the direction of the explosion. Chris had been walking behind him, but he skipped a step and moved behind Bradley.
“You camera shy?” Bradley asked.
“Just being overly cautious,” Chris said.
Bradley looked down and pretended to shade his eyes from the sun. Maybe Chris knew something he didn’t.
“Where you guys heading?” One of the Guardsmen called out. He was dressed in BDUs and wore a combat helmet. He carried an M4 on a two-point sling, but he wasn’t in a hurry to brandish it.
“Uh, left my Bronco about a mile from here. Heading that way, then going home. It’s scary out here,” Bradley said.
“You said it. Hey, stay safe,” the man said.
Bradley nodded, and their group moved on. Bradley had the desire to turn around and look. He felt like every eye was on him and maybe a gun. It was probably just paranoia.
He would remember that in the weeks to come.
Chapter Seventeen
Chris was pissed. They had said nothing about a bomb, and what had that thing been composed of? You could fill a U-Haul with fertilizer and take down a building. That blast had been three times the size of the one that took out the Alfred P. Murrah Building in Oklahoma City in 1995. He didn’t know if a boat load of Semtex could have had the same effect. An air burst, but that would have had a different effect.
The biggest insult was that they had not been informed. What if the damn thing had gone off during their operation. Not that it mattered, since his contacts had also intended to have him and the teams killed.
This guy Bradley was a real fucking Boy Scout. Saving his kid, plus someone else’s. Getting them back home to mom was his mission. The guy packed a gun and seemed to know how to handle himself, but anyone could do that with a little bit of training. Bradley was clearly ex-military. It was the way he walked that gave it away.
Chris needed to get out of town as soon as possible, and Bradley seemed like the safest bet. He could always try to get Bradley’s gun away from him, force him to hand over his keys. Chris could use his gun, but he was down to one or two rounds at the most. A misfire would be a disaster if Bradley was any good with that Kimber. Plus, Chris didn’t want to experience a .45 round to any part of his body. Unlike movies and television shows, getting shot was one of the most traumatic experiences in the world. You didn’t take a round and get up and keep fighting. Bullets were designed for pure damage, and getting shot in a limb or shoulder could blow shards of bone into muscle tissue. Not to mention the immense pain it caused.
He knew this firsthand because he’d been hit twice, and each time had been a nightmare. One had been in the leg, and he’d nearly bled to death. The second had been in the gut. They’d had to cut him open, extract the bullet and pieces of bullet, and sew up his damaged intestines, leading to a seven day stay in a hospital bed.
The best way he was going to get out of town was with Bradley. He needed to come up with something because he knew that look on Bradley’s face. He was going to give Chris the cold shoulder when they reached the man’s vehicle, or maybe a little before then.
He had mulled over ideas and finally thought of something that would appeal to Bradley’s sense of family.
Once he was out of Chicago, he was going to disappear. The longer he spent out in the open, the more likely he was going to be identified. He had to have been on at least one street camera by now. Once images were processed into the system, the feds cold troll through it with facial recognition because that shit was not confined to TV shows like 24. It was all too real.
Chris would have to work with what he had. Get out of the city of Chicago, and then alter his appearance. Hair color and some simple supplies from a makeup store would do. He could fool the cameras long enough to get him off the grid. Then he would rely on his backup plans. He had money stashed in a number of locations across the United States.
Before he did that, though, he wanted to know who had set him up and pay them a visit. He wanted a shot at Lawson, that smug son of a bitch.
Better to do that rather than be found first. They wanted him dead? Well, two could play at that game.
Chapter Eighteen
Bradley hustled the last block with Chris, Junior, and Kirk in tow. He had set a hard pace, which led to bitching from Junior. Chris kept up without comment, and Kirk seemed to just go with the flow. They passed three gas stations, all of which had lines of cars well into the streets.
Bradley tried to call Monica again, and the phone rang, but as soon as she answered, he lost the call again.
“Damn phones,” Bradley muttered.
“It’s the cell towers. They’re overloaded,” Chris said.
“You’re having the same issue?”
“Yeah. Same issue,” Chris said.
“Look, man. I’m gonna to be straight with you. I have a full car headed back to Vicksburg and can’t fit you in,” Bradley said.
“I understand,” Chris nodded. “I was hoping you’d offer me a ride, I can’t deny that. I’m worried about my sister. She’s outside of Vicksburg. You could drop me on the outskirts of town,” Chris said. “The cops aren't going to find my stolen car anytime soon. I'll have to file a report with my insurance in the morning.”
Bradley mulled that over.
Traffic had not gotten any better since he had abandoned his Bronco. Many cars were abandoned, and he found he was blocked in once they got in his vehicle. There was a sidewalk and sloping curve, which he might have been able to use to back up and turn into the opposite lane. But cars on the right were backed up as far as he could see.
Many sat in their vehicles, or in some cases on top of hoods. A family perched on the sidewalk, legs in the street. The mother and father leaned together and talked while the two kids sat on top of the older sedan’s roof and stared toward the explosion in town. A number of cars must have gotten sick of waiting because they were making a steady line of U-turns in the center of the road.
Bradley unlocked his door, and then leaned in and unlocked the passenger side door. This was probably stupid, but Chris had been good during the incident in Subway. Bradley would have just given the men his phone and hoped they left after robbing the place. Chris had other ideas and had acted to protect himself.
Bradley couldn’t wait to get home, lock the doors, finish securing his house, finish inventorying his supplies with Monica's help, and spending time with his family. Yesterday’s shooting at his work was still a bundle of anxiety that ate at him. He tried to push it aside, but even during their walk to the Br
onco, he’d found his mind racing. Walking like a zombie at some points, he had been in a daze because the gunshots played out over and over again. Jessica in her bloodstained shirt. Dying next to him while he tried to save her. Accountants lying in their cubes or where they had been gunned down as they had tried to run.
Maybe having some backup wasn’t such a bad idea.
“Okay, Chris. I’ll drop you off, provided we can even get out of town.” Bradley made up his mind.
“I’m very grateful, Bradley. Thank you, sincerely.”
“It’s no big deal.”
They piled into the car and Bradley started the engine. It hummed to life, and then he rolled down his window and considered how in the hell he was going to get out of here.
He put his turn signal on while he stuck his head out the window.
The car next to him, in the right lane, had an occupant in it, but the guy must not have noticed him. Bradley motioned to the guy by waving but he had his head down and glued to his phone screen. Bradley tapped his horn a couple of times. The guy looked up annoyed at the intrusion. Junior was in the seat behind him and rolled his window down as well. He also waved.
The guy looked to his right, and then looked back at Bradley. He shook his head, and then shrugged back at Bradley.
The little Hyundai backed up a few inches, all that he had between him and the large SUV behind him. The SUV must have caught on and also backed up a little bit. Then the Hyundai had enough room and returned sharply. The driver had to wait for a car to drive by in the left lane. Then his path was clear. Bradley nudged into the open space, and then had to slam on his brakes because the SUV tried to pull forward.
“Come on, man,” Bradley said in frustration.
“We got it, Dad.” Junior said.
He and Kirk jumped out of the car before Bradley could stop them. Then Junior waved his hand in the air to get the driver’s attention, and then pointed at Bradley’s Bronco. Bradley nodded and pulled out, yanking the wheel hard to the right. He made it into the space but a number of cars cut him off in the opposite lane. There was a no passing double line on the road so a U-turn was illegal here. But every cop in the city seemed to be at the site of the shooting so he highly doubted he had to worry about anyone coming to give him a ticket.
DRUMS OF WAR: A Dystopian Thriller Series (Broken Patriot Book 1) Page 11