by Sam Sisavath
Bullets shredded the Bronco’s front windshield, the loud clatter of gunfire like a never-ending supply of firecrackers. Keo was already leaping out of the Bronco and running backward, sliding on the ground as he careened toward then around to the back bumper, which was now facing the trail. Norris appeared next to him, having circled back from the other side. The ex-cop gasped for breath, the expression on his face halfway between terror and exhilaration.
Two loud popping sounds overcame their senses just long enough to tell Keo that the front tires had just been shot out. That noise was quickly drowned out by the ping-ping-ping! of bullets piercing the sides and front hood of the vehicle. As far as Keo could tell, based almost purely on a few seconds of what he could see as soon as he burst out of the trail and into the clearing, the shooters were gathered on the other side of the yard.
“You bleeding?” Keo asked.
“Nah,” Norris said. His chest heaved erratically, and he was blinking sweat out of his eyes. “You?”
“Not this time.”
“Your luck’s changing.”
“Tell those guys that.”
Keo glanced over at the house, and the first thing he saw were the thick blocks of wood on the other side of the windows. They were pockmarked from the barrage, but that was the good news, because the barricades were down, which meant someone had made it into the house.
After he made sure they weren’t being outflanked, Keo leaned around the Bronco and looked toward the front of the house. He saw a body just a few meters from the door. He knew it was a woman right away by the curves and shape of her still form, but it took him a few extra seconds to see the side profile of her face.
Jill.
She had been shot in the forehead, wet blood still pooling under her. There was an odd expression on her face, almost a look of shock. Her eyes were wide open and staring up at the bright sun.
The front door of the house was closed, and like the barricades over the windows, it too was pockmarked with tiny craters. Keo was wondering how many rounds the reinforced door could take when bullets shattered the truck’s remaining windows and falling glass fell around him. Norris grunted out another curse, and Keo brushed the small shards out of his hair and off his shoulders.
Running for the front door was out of the question. He wouldn’t make it halfway before they picked him off. At the moment, the Bronco was his best option. For now, anyway.
He slipped out from behind the car and moved along the side, staying low. The shooters were gathered in front of the house, which meant they were to his right, with the front of the house to his left. The sound of gunfire was so close that he was sure they were either hiding where the other vehicles were parked across the yard or close by. He couldn’t tell how many there were by the shooting, or where they were firing from exactly. The fact that they hadn’t shot him dead yet was an indicator they didn’t have a solid bead on him.
There was a sudden burst of gunfire—Norris’s M4—from behind him. Keo fell to his knees and looked back and saw the barrel of Norris’s rifle pointing toward the house.
There was a body on the ground next to the side of the house that hadn’t been there earlier. The man lay motionless on his stomach, his face buried in the grass on its side. He had on black clothes—black pants and a black assault vest over an equally dark shirt. His face was covered in green and black paint.
Who the hell are these guys?
Norris leaned over and gave Keo the thumbs up.
Keo grinned back, then continued on his way. He was halfway to the front of the Bronco when he caught movement from the corner of his eye and looked over, seeing a pair of eyes peering out from the peephole in the window directly to his left. He recognized the color green and smiled.
His radio squawked almost at the same time that the shooting mercifully ceased. Either the assaulters were reloading or they had realized they didn’t have the angle to take him and Norris out. He didn’t really care, because it allowed him to hear Gillian’s voice coming through fine (and alive, thank God).
“Keo, what are you doing?” she said, almost screaming through the radio. He hoped the bad guys hadn’t heard that.
“I’m trying to save you, sweetheart,” he said.
She laughed. “You’re insane. But what else is new?”
“You okay?”
“In one piece, but Jordan’s been shot. And Jill…”
“I see her,” Keo said, looking across the yard at Jill’s prone form. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. They came out of nowhere and shot Jordan and Jill. The rest of us were in the house. We locked the doors and put the barricades down.”
“Good, that’s good.”
“What do we do now, Keo?”
“I don’t know. Give me a sec—”
Another round of bullets slammed into the other side of the Bronco, the ping-ping-ping! cutting Keo off. He stayed where he was and kept his eyes forward in case they tried to rush him head-on. There was no point shooting back. He couldn’t even see anyone, and standing up to get a look would probably get his head shot off.
So he crouched where he was and let them go at it for a while, until finally the shooting stopped again and the last gunshot faded into the woods around them.
Gillian was watching him the entire time through the peephole. Bullets pecked the wall around the window, some embedding pointlessly against the thick wooden plate.
He held up his hand to get her attention. “Can you see them?” he said into the radio.
“There’s too many of them,” Gillian said. “I can see five. I think there were six before.”
“Where exactly are they?”
“They’re almost right in front of you. Two are hiding behind the trucks and one’s crouched behind the ATV, and I think there are more in the woods. Be careful, Keo; they might try to get behind you.”
“Norris is keeping an eye out. Where did they come from? Did you see?”
“I don’t know. I think from the woods.”
So they walked here. Which meant what, exactly?
He had no idea and he didn’t particularly care, either, at the moment.
“What do we do, Keo?” Gillian asked. He could hear the urgency in her voice, along with the fear, even though she did her best to hide it.
“Stay put,” he said.
Keo glanced back at Norris behind the back bumper. The ex-cop had heard the conversation through his own radio, and Keo liked to think Norris was thinking the same thing he was.
Five men with assault rifles. Probably more.
Those were some bad odds right there. And the assaulters had come fully loaded, based on the large volume of fire they had unleashed so far. They had gone silent now, probably because they couldn’t get a clear shot. That, or they were already trying to outflank them.
“I think there are more in the woods,” Gillian had said.
She had only seen five, but there could easily be more.
Who the hell are these people?
He took a chance and stood up quickly, peering through the broken driver side window. He figured he had a second, maybe two, before they saw him. In that brief second or two, he glimpsed three figures—all wearing similar black assault rigs—biding their time behind vehicles parked across the yard. One was behind the Nissan Frontier, another at the large hood of the Ford F-150. Two more black-clad figures appeared in the corner of his eye, moving through the woods at the far end of the yard. They were heading toward the trail.
“Be careful, Keo; they might try to get behind you.”
The assaulter behind the Ford saw Keo, and for a split-second they stared at each other across the wide space.
Keo wished he was surprised to see the familiar face looking back at him, but a part of him wasn’t. Not that it made it any easier to stomach, but maybe he always knew, deep down, that he had made the wrong decision that day.
Sonofabitch.
It was Joe. He was back and wearing the same rig as t
he others. Even through the face paint, Keo knew instantly who it was. He recognized the fire (hatred) in the kid’s eyes.
Joe took aim and opened fire with his assault rifle, and Keo ducked back behind the Bronco as bullets punched into the other side.
“In the woods!” Keo shouted back at Norris. “They’re trying to outflank us!”
“I see them!” Norris said, and his M4 unleashed a half dozen rounds.
There was a moment of peace as Norris’s last shots faded.
“Norris!” Keo shouted.
“They’re moving farther back into the woods,” Norris said. “I don’t think I hit any of them, but it definitely got them running. What did you see?”
Joe. I saw fucking Joe.
“We’re in trouble,” Keo said. “I don’t think they’re going to leave until we’re dead.”
“You’re full of good news today, kid.”
“Sorry.”
“Well, they’re gonna get around us eventually. I just chased them off, but that just means they’ll run farther back into the woods to stay out of my line of fire. We probably got five minutes tops before they’re completely around us. You got something in mind, you better get to it soon before we’re dead.”
Keo sighed. He had made a mistake, and it was now coming back to bite them. Letting the kid go had seemed like a good idea at a time. A concession to the “new” man he had become.
You screwed up. Now everyone’s going to pay the price for it.
Fucking Joe. He had given Keo a nice song and dance. It was believable, too. The kid would have won an Oscar with that performance.
And Keo had swallowed it. Hook, line, and sinker.
Fuck you, Joe.
“Well?” Norris said behind him. “Four minutes and counting, kid.”
“You’re not going to like it,” Keo said.
“Does it involve us not dying?”
“Fifty-fifty chance of that.”
“Well, shit. What about the girls?”
“I think we can save them.”
“Then do it,” Norris said without hesitation.
Keo took a moment to think about what he would say before pressing the radio’s transmit lever. “Gillian…”
She answered quickly. “What took you so long?”
“Is there anyone at the back of the house?”
“I’ll ask Mark; he’s back there.” He waited a few seconds, then she was quickly back. “Mark says someone was back there, but he’s gone now. He doesn’t know where he went.”
Keo glanced over at the man Norris had shot, still on his stomach on the ground next to the house.
“And Mark’s fine?” he asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“What about Jordan?”
Keo saw another pair of eyes—soft brown this time—appear at the peephole next to Gillian’s green eyes.
“I’m here,” Jordan said through the radio.
“You hit?” he asked.
“Yeah, in the left arm, but it doesn’t look fatal.”
“Can you shoot?”
“Yes. I can’t say how well, but I can shoot.”
He paused.
“Keo,” Jordan said. “How are we gonna do this?”
He remembered the talk he had with her back when she had first shown up. There was a reason he had chosen her instead of Mark. Because she was the obvious leader of the three friends. Jordan had kept them alive all these months.
“Jordan, I need you to get everyone out of there,” he said into the radio.
“I don’t understand. We’re safe here in the house, aren’t we?”
“For now. Once they finish us off, they’re going to come for you.”
“We have all the doors and windows covered,” she started to say, but he cut her off.
“Jordan, look at them. Really look at them. These are the guys I told you about. The ones at the gas station. They didn’t come here to shoot up the house. They came here to take down the house. Once they have the place surrounded, they’ll bring everything they have and take it. Do you understand? That place can withstand bloodsuckers, but it’s not going to last long against a bunch of well-armed paramilitary assholes.”
She didn’t answer right away.
Come on, Jordan. You know I’m right. You’re too smart not to see it.
Finally, she said, “What’s your plan?”
“This is it. That emergency option we discussed. Get everyone into the boat and tell Mark to get the hell downriver as fast as he can and keep going. We stashed those emergency provisions for a reason. It’s time to put them to use.”
Gillian took over the radio. “Keo, are you crazy? We’re not leaving you and Norris behind!”
“Five is too many,” Keo said.
Five? More like six. Maybe seven. And those are just the ones here. How many do they have out there?
“How many more of you are out there?” he had asked the guy.
“A lot,” the guy had said.
“Keo, what are you saying?” Gillian said.
“You need to go with Jordan and Mark. Take Rachel and Christine and get the hell out of there. Make your way to the boat through the back door. Use the outboard motor and get downriver as fast as you can and keep going.”
There was a pause, and he imagined Gillian struggling with everything inside the house. He couldn’t see her eyes anymore, and the browns of Jordan’s had disappeared, too.
“Jordan,” Keo said.
“Yes,” Jordan answered. She sounded calm, which was good.
“You understand?” Keo said.
“Yes,” Jordan said without hesitation.
“We’ll provide you with covering fire just in case they try to send someone else back there.”
“All right. When?”
“Grab as many supplies as you can, but only what you can carry and still run. Food and water only. Some ammo, if you have room. You’ll have to rely on the emergency provisions for the rest.”
“Then what? Where are we going?”
“Downriver.”
“But where, Keo?”
He didn’t even have to think about it. The name came tumbling out of his mouth naturally, as if it had always been on the tip of his tongue. “Santa Marie Island. Norris and I will find a boat and meet you there as soon as we can. Okay?”
“You’ll follow us down there.”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” she said, though she didn’t sound as if she believed a single word he had just said.
Smart girl.
“Keo,” Gillian said. “You promise me. You’ll follow us to Santa Marie Island.”
“Yes,” Keo said. “I promise.” Then, before she could say anything else, “Reserve a spot on the beach for me. I also wouldn’t mind if you were wearing a bikini when I get there.”
She laughed. “I’ll wait for you. Just hurry.”
“I will,” he said. Then, “Jordan.”
“Yeah,” Jordan said.
“You have five minutes to get ready. Starting now.”
CHAPTER 32
“See the world. Kill some people. Make some money.”
It had been a simple life plan, and it had been going splendidly for the last ten years. Then, the world decided to stop making sense and everything went out the window. He found himself leading a bunch of people he didn’t know, kinda/maybe falling in major like with a girl, and now hoping against hope to keep them alive at the cost of…what? His own life?
Daebak. You’ve certainly come a long way.
What a sucker.
Keo lowered the radio and glanced at the back bumper.
Norris was staring back at him with a slightly crooked grin. “We’re going to follow them downriver to Santa Marie Island, huh? I almost believed you there for a second.”
Keo grinned back at him. “Keep an eye on our six, old timer. I’ll make sure no one tries to sneak back behind the house from this side while they’re getting ready.”
“They’d have to t
hink you were crazy to make the girls abandon the house and run to the river for them to send someone else back there.”
“Yeah, well, it’s better they’re not trapped in the house when we get killed.”
“That house is pretty strong. It can withstand a lot.”
“You know how I got Gillian out of the hospital in Bentley?”
“No.”
“I ran a truck through a wall. That wall was just as strong as the house’s.”
“You really are insane,” Norris said. “I should have—”
Norris was interrupted by a long string of gunfire from the back bumper—all of it from Norris’s own M4. Keo waited patiently for Norris to stop shooting, the clink-clink-clink of bullet casings pelting the ground around the ex-cop’s feet.
Then the sound of reloading, and Norris, sounding more agitated than a few seconds ago: “They’re almost behind us, kid. You better tell them it’s now or never.”
Keo looked forward to make sure no one was making a run for the other side of the house. He didn’t think they would. Why would they? There was no point because they had the house surrounded, and no one would be crazy enough to make a run for the boat in the back. Why trade the safety of a house with walls for something that floats on the water?
Maybe they’re all right. Maybe I am a little bit crazy.
He pressed the radio’s transmit lever. “Are you ready?”
Jordan was out of breath when she answered. “Almost ready.”
“It has to be now.”
“What’s happening?”
“We’re running out of time. They’ve almost outflanked us.”
“Okay, okay…”
“Go, Jordan, get them out of there. Now.”
“Okay, okay,” she said again. “In twenty, okay? In twenty.”
“Twenty,” Keo repeated.
He put the radio away and got into position behind the driver side door, then began counting down. The windows of the Bronco were all shot out, and he couldn’t move more than a few inches without crunching glass on the ground. That made for a lot of noise and he cringed each time, thinking the assaulters had heard his every step. The only good news was that the tires were all blown, and that was preventing someone from shooting his feet out from under him. So there was that.