Amid the Shadows

by Michael C. Grumley

  They merged onto a larger two-lane road and joined a steady line of traffic. Both men scanned the thick, tree lined highway and watched as much of the sky as they were able to see from the front seats.

  Christine leaned forward. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re vulnerable and can’t hide under trees forever,” Rand said, still scanning. “They know where we were, so they’re likely trying to find us from overhead satellite or aircraft.” He looked up again through his side window. “Our best option is to hide somewhere they can’t easily track us.”

  “Where is that?”

  “In plain sight.”

  Christine had just sat back and put her arm around Sarah’s shoulders when she heard a loud chime. She lifted her hips, reached into her pocket and was startled when she pulled her cell phone out.

  “Oh my god!” she cried. “My phone is on again!” She looked back and forth between Rand and Avery. “I didn’t turn it on this time, I swear!”

  Rand’s eyes stared at her in the rearview mirror. “Your phone has been compromised. Get rid of it!”

  Christine looked around. “Now?”

  “NOW!” they both said in unison.

  Christine immediately grabbed the metal handle on her door and cranked it counter-clockwise, rolling down her window. The loud, cold air rushed in as she took one last look at her phone, and threw it out.

  Rand accelerated and passed the car in front of them. He wished the trees were not cut so far back away from the road. They could use some cover.

  They rode silently for several miles. Sarah, now sat on the driver’s side behind Rand with her legs on top of the large bag. She watched quietly as the cars and signs went by. After a few minutes, she slid back over to Christine and whispered in her ear, “Do you know how to play I-spy?”

  The traffic became increasingly dense as they merged onto highway 206, but when a string of brake lights could be seen ahead, Rand and Avery grew concerned.

  Soon the cars slowed to a crawl as some kind of obstruction could be seen ahead in the distance. It was a road block with three police cars creating a barrier across both lanes, letting just one car through at a time. Several state troopers took turns surrounding the cars as they came to a stop.

  Trooper Williams watched the other team let a car through before he sighed and waved the next car in his lane ahead, up to where he was standing. As the car stopped next to him, the driver lowered her window and he leaned in.

  “Hello, ma’am,” he said, looking through her car. “You traveling alone today?”

  The elderly woman nodded. “Yes. What’s wrong, are you looking for someone?”

  “Yes ma’am.” Williams smiled. “Sorry for the inconvenience.” He straightened up and waved her forward between the parked police cars, to the open highway beyond.

  Williams glanced again at the other officers while he waved a copper colored Dodge forward. The driver, an older man, wore sunglasses and looked up at the officer as he brought the car to a stop.

  “Morning, sir,” Williams said. He looked into the car and glanced at the passenger, a younger woman with long, dark red hair. She was wearing large sunglasses, but something looked familiar about her. He looked over the top of the car at his partner who looked back with a raised eyebrow.

  “Where are you headed, sir?” Williams asked the driver.

  “Into town,” Avery replied. “Why, what’s going on?”

  “Just a routine stop,” the trooper said. He looked at the girl again. “And who are you traveling with?”

  “This is my granddaughter,” Avery responded. “This isn’t a routine stop. I come through here all the time.”

  “Well, we’re just looking for someone who may have stolen a car.” Williams straightened and nonchalantly took a piece of paper out of his back pocket. He held it above the roof of the car and quietly unfolded it to reveal pictures of Christine and Sarah.

  “Why would you stop everyone if you’re looking for a specific car?” asked Avery.

  Williams didn’t hear him. Instead, he was showing the picture to his partner over their heads. His partner, on the other side of the car, slowly motioned downward to the back seat. Williams glanced through the back window and saw a large bag on the seat and what looked like a lump on the floor covered by a blanket.

  “What’s in the bag, sir?”

  Avery remained calm. “Just some odds and ends.”

  “What kind of odds and ends?” asked Williams.

  “Some car parts that I need to have repaired. I’m a collector.”

  “Hmm,” said the trooper. “And what’s that lump on the floor?”

  “More car parts.”

  “I see.” Williams turned his body to block the view of his hand reaching back and unclipping the safety strap on his holster. “Sir, would you mind stepping out of the car?”

  Avery frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid it’s difficult for me to stand up easily.”

  “Well, I’m sure-” Williams began but stopped abruptly. He peered curiously back over the roof of the car. He couldn’t see his partner. “Rog?” Williams got no response, so he leaned down and looked through the car to the other side. Still nothing.

  Williams’ heart started to beat faster. He stepped back and ran into something. He never found out what it was, as his body stiffened and a painful jolt of 500,000 volts ran through his system. Before he could scream, Rand grabbed him from the side and smashed his fist into the trooper’s lower jaw, triggering the cranial nerve and instantly knocking him out. At the same moment that Williams’ knees gave out, Avery thrust his left arm out the window at a 90 degree angle and grabbed the front of his uniform. He pushed him up and then pulled him against the car to keep his body upright.

  The car horn behind them began blaring when the driver witnessed Rand’s attack on the trooper, which caused the troopers in the other lane to turn their attention to the honking car. The driver inside was waving at something. It was all the distraction Rand needed.

  By the time the other three troopers had turned away from the honking car and back to Williams, who appeared to be leaning on the car, Rand had already covered the distance. He quickly pushed the stun gun into the stomach of the first trooper, an older, overweight man who screamed and fell onto his knees. As the trooper collapsed to his knees, Rand yanked the trooper’s yellow Taser gun from its holster and fired over the top of the car, hitting a taller officer and sinking both electrodes into his neck and shoulder. The second trooper’s lips immediately curled down, exposing his teeth, and his body jerked backwards, already beginning to convulse on the way to the ground.

  The third trooper watched wide-eyed in a moment of shock as the other two fell , but he was young and reacted much faster than the others. He reached for his gun and already had it out of the holster when Rand’s boot found its mark. His eyes instantly rolled into his head, and he fell forward into his older partner, taking them both to the ground. With a single strike, Rand knocked the larger man out and spun with the momentum, launching himself over the hood. The tall and lanky trooper was still shaking violently. The image of Rand standing over him was the last thing he would remember when he woke up again.

  Rand returned to the Dodge and withdrew his pistol, shooting out two tires on each patrol car. Avery lowered trooper Williams’ body down to the pavement. They both turned and looked at the line of cars behind them. Not a single vehicle made a sound; instead, the shocked drivers simply stared at them with open mouths.

  Rand knelt down and examined the gun in Williams’ holster. Satisfied, he pulled the magazine out and took two more from the trooper’s belt. It was not the same model of magazine, but it was the same caliber bullet. He stood up and pushed them into his back pocket.

  Rand looked inside the car. “Everyone okay?”

  Avery smiled, looking over his shoulder at Christine and the small lump on the floor behind her. He opened his mouth to reply when they heard an ominous sound, the distant, thumping blades of
a helicopter. They turned and saw the shape of an Apache AH-64D attack helicopter approaching in the distance. The roadblock was not intended to stop them; it was merely meant to slow them down.

  Rand immediately reached behind Avery and pulled the large bag closer. He reached in and retrieved an AR-10 and several magazines, two of which had thick bands of red tape around them. He stuffed the magazines into his remaining pockets and wrapped the rifle’s sling around his shoulder. He then ran around the back of the car and stopped at Christine’s window. “You’d better get in back and stay down.”

  Christine was instantly out of her seat, scrambling over the top and into the back. She settled down onto the floor and lay on top of Sarah.

  “Are you okay, honey?” she whispered.

  Sarah peered out from under the thick fabric. “Yes!”

  Rand stepped forward and planted himself on the edge of the hood. “Go!”

  Less than a mile away, the helicopter slowed to a hover, just forty feet above the empty highway. Behind it, Rand could see a second chopper; it was a Blackhawk. Six ropes trailed to the ground, and dark clad soldiers quickly descended. They reached the ground and squatted low, assessing their position before fanning out. The Blackhawk quickly turned and retreated while the Apache continued hovering in place.

  Avery zigzagged the Dodge through the police barricade and stopped, facing the empty road ahead. The attack helicopter tilted forward and began accelerating in their direction.

  Avery revved the engine and looked at Rand through the windshield. “This car can’t take anything that thing has!” he yelled. He floored it, and the Dodge Charger instantly leapt forward.

  They both accelerated towards each other, quickly covering the distance. Inside the cockpit, the pilot’s integrated helmet display slaved the 30mm gun to his line of sight. As they grew closer, the pilot’s display zeroed in on the car, and the giant barrel located just beneath the aircraft’s nose, adjusted accordingly.

  At the same time, Rand peered through his high-powered, red dot scope and tried to adjust for the shaking of the car.

  The pilot targeted the car and wrapped his index finger around the stick’s trigger. Suddenly, three bullets hit the cockpit glass in front of his face. They didn’t penetrate, but it startled the pilot enough to disengage and dive for cover. The aircraft dropped close to the ground, and the pilot pulled up just as the Dodge sped under him.

  The pilot’s mouth tightened in anger as he continued further away and swung around in a wide arc. The large cracks in the window were now too large to use the 30mm Chain Gun accurately, but the Hellfire’s could target by themselves. He just needed enough room.

  Avery slowed the car less than a thousand feet from the soldiers running toward them. Unless they were carrying something really big, the extra thick steel and glass on the car could take whatever they had. He turned the car and stopped in a broadside position. Rand jumped down from the hood and ran forward towards the Apache which was finishing its turn. As the helicopter straightened its approach, he replaced his magazine, inserting one with red tape. Inside it was armor piercing rounds.

  He quickly lay down on the gravel and pressed the stock of the rifle securely into his shoulder. The large distance the pilot took to circle back meant he was preparing to fire an air-to-ground missile, and that meant a Hellfire. And if the aircraft were fully loaded, it would be fired from the pilot’s right side rails and arm itself within the first fifteen feet of flight.

  Christine suddenly screamed, as bullets began pelting the side of the Dodge. Dents appeared on the inside, and two rounds hit the window and froze inside the special laminated glass, cracking it.

  Avery looked at the dents and yelled out the other window to Rand. “We’re okay!”

  Rand’s heart slowed. He closed one eye and watched carefully for the one sign he would have when the missile fired. Then he saw it. For only a split second, the fire and smoke from behind the missile could be seen igniting. At the same instant, Rand began shooting, and kept shooting, pulling the trigger as quickly as he could.

  The Hellfire armed itself but traveled only thirty-six feet before it was struck head on by a hot loaded, armor piercing bullet, then was hit again at forty-four feet. It detonated immediately, and the helicopter was too close to avoid the explosion. All of the armaments were ripped from the sub-wing pylons, with one of the rails tearing a hole through the right wing. Two large chunks of metal shrapnel punched larger holes in the aircraft’s side body armor, severing one of the main hydraulic lines, and a third piece of shrapnel removed almost two feet of rotor blade.

  The pilot felt the loss of control immediately, as the helicopter began a horizontal wobble of which he was rapidly losing control. Within a few seconds, the secondary hydraulic line took over for the primary. Control was restored, but the wobble from the now unbalanced blade was increasing and had the potential to shake the helicopter apart. The pilot had to beat it to the ground before that happened, which meant a very hard landing.

  Rand was back on his feet as several more slugs hit the far side of the Charger. He reached the passenger door where Avery had both hands on the steering wheel and the engine running.

  Rand peeked around the curve of the front windshield, looking for the soldiers who had dropped from the Blackhawk, but quickly ducked back when a bullet ricocheted off the hood.

  “Get past them and then get the car out of sight,” he said to Avery, scanning the sky above them. He knew they could easily be seen from a number of aircraft, perhaps even a drone which could fly high enough to remain completely invisible. No matter where they went, they were undoubtedly being watched from a live video stream.

  Behind them came a terrible noise as the Apache helicopter smashed hard into the ground, breaking itself in two. Rand looked at it over his shoulder and turned back to Avery. “Find a safe place, and I’ll meet you on the other side.”

  Avery nodded but said nothing. He dropped the transmission into drive and punched the accelerator, causing the rear tires to kick up a wall of dirt before speeding away.

  Farther down the road, one of the six soldiers shooting at the car paused and raised his eye from his scope. He watched the tiny figure of a man run into the trees. He’d never seen anyone move that fast before.

  42

  “Hold on!’ Avery yelled over the roaring engine. The car bounced off-road and over the brush as he circled away from the men shooting and then rounded back in their direction. “We’re going to have to drive right through them! And we’re going to take a lot of fire. So stay down!”

  Christine settled her arms on both sides of Sarah, keeping most of her weight off her tiny frame. Nothing was going to get Sarah that didn’t go through her first.

  Downrange, the black clad men watched the Dodge turn back in their direction. They lifted their rifles up and waited. Just moments before, they had all watched the attack helicopter come smashing down to the ground. Fortunately, the fuel was contained, and there was no explosion, leaving it to be enveloped in a giant cloud of dirt and debris. How the hell did they bring that down?

  Avery was now heading in their direction at full speed. His eyes scanning the area ahead, trying to judge the best angle that would receive the minimal damage. He finally decided there was no best angle, and instead stayed on the road and kept the pedal hard against the floor, opening the engine into a thundering scream. Bullets began peppering the front windshield and gradually moved to the right-hand side door as Avery pushed quickly past their positions. Once the car was past, the soldiers halted their firing. They had to save their ammo. There was still someone in the trees.

  The soldiers moved together in a slight arc, rounding and coming in toward the area of trees where they saw Rand disappear.

  The third man in line motioned with hand signals, telling the men to move in slowly. They were Delta Force, some of the best in the military, and they had hunted plenty of human targets before. They were also extraordinarily good at it and not the least b
it rushed.

  The man they had seen was not a runner, he was a fighter. The natural human reaction was to find the first decent shelter and dig in, which meant he was likely less than a hundred yards from where he entered the forest. He was also unfamiliar with the immediate area. This increased anxiety and the sense that a person being pursued had less time than they actually did, which meant rash decisions.

  The head of the squad was a man named Fish. He was strong, methodical, and savored the act of hunting another man down. He halted the team and then motioned for the two men on the outside to spread out and widen the circle. They would enter about a hundred yards further down, then form a circle and slowly tighten the noose.

  It took several minutes, but once in position and almost like clockwork, all six members began closing in slowly and silently. As the noose continued to close, Fish could taste the slaughter.

  They were more correct than they knew; Rand had not gone far. He sat waiting to see if any of them entered the thick wall of trees behind him. After a long wait, he could finally hear one of them approaching, but what Rand didn’t know was that the other five were already in as well.

  One of Fish’s men, a short, stocky ranger with his face painted in black stripes, moved in, making almost no sound. He moved his rifle in step with his head, sweeping side to side at a 45 degree angle, occasionally stopping to listen. Hearing nothing, he continued on.

  He was now just twenty feet from Rand. They were also right about Rand’s general vicinity, but what the Delta members were not expecting was where he would be waiting for them. Rand was not twenty feet in front of the man. He was twenty feet above him.

  Almost all soldiers were trained to look up in a pursuit, but under stress very few actually did. The fact was, ascending a tree took far more time and energy than was practical, and it was a veritable trap, leaving the person very little room for movement. No one in their right mind would paint themselves in that kind of corner. Only a person who could climb effortlessly, or knew how a trained soldier thinks under pressure, would do it. Rand was both.