by L. T. Ryan
Would she see her father again? Was he in that pile of bodies, or had he managed to escape?
“Pick up the pace, Barbara,” she said.
“What’s gotten into you?” Barbara said.
Emma shrugged. She wasn’t sure. It felt natural, though. She’d always been the type to take charge in a group or during an argument among friends. It felt natural for her to lead. She’d figured that trait had come from her father.
They neared the exit. Emma stopped and turned around. “Are you ready for this?”
Barbara said nothing. She aimed her hollow stare in Emma’s direction. Marley sat down and glanced up at Barbara. He whimpered a few times.
“Barbara, please, I need you. I can’t do this without you. If you’re not ready, tell me and we’ll rest for a few minutes.”
Barbara looked past Emma. “I’m ready, Em. Let’s do this.”
Emma took a deep breath. She’d avoided preparing for the moment during their walk. Now it had to be done. There was no avoiding it.
“Have you ever been through here?” Emma asked.
“No.”
“Okay, when we go through, we’ll end up in a small room. It might be dark. There’s a hatch that’s hidden in the barn. We’ll have to go through that. Got it?”
“Dark room. Hatch. Got it.”
Emma searched the wall until she found the panel, removed it, and entered the code. The door unlocked with a hiss and a click. She opened it. At once, she felt that something was wrong. It seemed lighter in there than it had in the past. She had no idea if her father had been through, though. Perhaps he had left a light down there.
“Come on,” Emma said, reaching behind her and gesturing Barbara forward. She cleared the doorway and looked back. Barbara passed through right after. Marley followed. Glancing upward, she saw that the hatch wasn’t closed all the way. A small crack let in a sliver of light.
“How do we get up?” Barbara asked.
Emma pointed. “Ladder attached to the wall there. Hard to see, but it’s there. Follow me.”
She lowered her bag, took out a bottle of water and took two gulps. She slung the bag over one shoulder, and then crossed the narrow room. Halfway up the ladder, her backpack slid off her shoulder. She bent her arm ninety degrees and stopped it before it went past her elbow. It made climbing more difficult, but the weight of the bag prevented her from slinging it back into place.
Emma reached the top of the ladder. A cool draft pushed through the cracked hatch and past her face. Dust filled her nose. She scrunched her face to prevent a sneeze. The sensation passed. Emma tucked her chin to her chest and pushed the back of her head and upper back into the hatch. Straining, she managed to lift it a few inches. She raised her gaze and scanned the dust-covered floor. It looked as expected.
“Everything okay?” Barbara asked.
“Fine, just checking,” Emma whispered. She took a deep breath, brushing aside her annoyance at Barbara for speaking.
She slid her left hand through, then her right. The floor felt gritty. She took three more steps up the ladder, pushing the hatch further open. The breeze faded. Must have been some kind of draft, she figured. Now it felt stale and warm. Emma pushed hard with her left hand and threw the hatch all the way open.
And came face to face with two men she had never seen before.
“Well, what do we have here?” the taller of the two said. He had a thick beard. No hair stuck out from the edges of his camouflaged hat.
Emma said nothing.
Neither did the second man. He stepped closer, though, aiming his rifle at Emma’s head. He gestured to the side with it.
Emma continued to climb the ladder. Her bag got caught on something. She looked down, but couldn’t see what. The bag had food, clothing, and her weapon. She jerked on it in an attempt to free it.
“Leave it,” the second man said, taking another step and placing the barrel of his rifle inches from her head. “Keep moving.”
She clenched her teeth and let her arm go limp. The bag slid free. It dangled from a spike, inches from the floorboards.
“You, below, drop the fucking gun and wait for her to get up here,” the guy shouted at Barbara.
Emma heard a thump from below. Barbara began to cry. Marley started to bark. Emma felt bad for bringing them along. She should have come alone to scout the area. Emma could have dropped and retreated into the passage had the woman not been there.
The man directed Emma to the rear wall.
“Come on up,” the guy said to Barbara.
“What about my dog?” she asked.
“You first,” the guy replied.
She climbed up. He sent Barbara to the side wall, taking her bag. He dug through it. Her clothes were tossed on the floor and left there. He dropped the bag and took a few steps back.
The bearded man stepped forward. “We good?”
The other man nodded.
“All right,” the bearded man said. “Let’s get moving. The lady first, then the girl. Any stupid moves, the girl gets shot. Got it?”
Barbara’s face twisted. She let out a loud, choking sob. “What about my dog?”
“Oh, right.” The guy stepped forward, pulled a pistol out of his bag and fired a shot.
Marley whimpered and then went silent.
“Come on now,” the guy said. “As long as you don’t do nothing stupid, that won’t happen to you. We’re taking you somewhere safe.”
Barbara fell to her knees. Emma leaned over her and wrapped her arms around the woman’s neck.
The men pulled them apart. Emma walked. One of the men had to drag Barb out.
Emma didn’t trust the guys. No one who aimed a gun at two women could have good intentions. She had no choice but to go along. She knew that. So when the guy told her to walk, she did, falling in line a few feet behind Barbara.
They exited the barn. The bright sunlight felt like knives, jabbing into Emma’s eyes. She hadn’t been outside in over a week.
Had it really been that long?
In one sense, she felt freer. The breeze hit her from behind, and the air was clean and sweet. She felt oppressed at the same time. The air was humid and heavy. Smoke rose in the distance. Soon the stench of burning bodies would overpower her.
The bunker had been climate controlled. She figured no place in the world had such perfect conditions all day long, day after day. That didn’t stop her from trying to imagine one.
Emma angled her path to the left for a few steps to get a clear view beyond the woman in front of her. A pack of pickup trucks stood in her driveway and to the side of it. There were men hanging out in front of them. A fire burned to the left of the house. Black smoke rose toward the sky. She wondered if her mother’s bones would turn to ash.
“Back in line,” the guy behind her said.
Which one was it? She couldn’t tell by the voice, and she hadn’t looked back before they had started walking. She resisted the urge to do so now.
She took in all the faces at the other end of the yard before sliding back into line. None of the men were her father. She inched her head to the left and right, letting her eyes scan the property. She didn’t see him. She considered that both good and bad. She figured if he was there, that meant he’d been caught. However, if she’d spotted him, it meant he could rescue her and Barbara.
Against that many men, though?
Emma knew her father had extensive Special Forces training. He also had a prosthetic leg. And, while he never let it interfere with his life, she felt it did limit him at times. This would be one of those times. How would he maneuver well enough to take out a dozen or so men?
“Stop,” one of the men said.
Barbara halted. Emma took another step, nearly careening into the older woman. She thought about continuing. What would they do? Shoot her? They might, and so she stopped.
The bearded man walked around her and Barbara. He took off his hat. The top of his head was pale. It stood out like the full moon aga
inst his red neck. He made an odd call, kind of like a whoop, and waved his hands over his head. His hat made a flopping sound.
A breeze pushed past them from their right. Emma caught a hint of lavender from her mother’s herb garden. She wondered how long they’d continue to grow with no one there to pull the weeds.
An engine roared to life. The truck made a loud thump and then started rolling forward. The tall grass bent under the chrome bumper. It was the only thing that looked new about the pickup.
“On your knees,” the bearded man said.
“No,” Barbara said weakly.
The guy turned toward her. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes looked square. “On your knees or I shoot the girl.”
Barbara began to cry again.
“Shut up!” the man shouted.
Barbara choked back her sobs and fell limply to the ground.
“Straighten up,” the guy said.
Emma threaded her arm through Barbara’s and helped her lift her upper body.
“Easy,” Emma whispered. “If they were going to hurt us, they would have done it back there.”
Barbara nodded and used the back of her free hand to wipe her eyes and nose. She sniffled a few times, took a deep breath, and exhaled, shuddering as she did so.
The truck stopped about ten feet away. The doors opened. Two sets of brown leather hiking boot clad feet hit the ground. They left the doors open, and walked around the front of the truck. There was nothing distinguishing about the men. Emma might have seen them at the grocery store a time or two. They looked like a lot of the men who lived out here. A little overweight, some facial hair, or at least a week’s growth, unkempt hair, and a distant stare. The stare was new, but everyone seemed to have that now, from the people she saw on television, to her father and Barbara, to these men.
“Who’re they?” the man that got out of the driver’s side asked. He wore red and black flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off. His upper arms were tattooed. One of them looked similar to her father’s.
“Found them in the barn,” the bearded man said. “They were in some kinda underground room or something.”
“They sick?”
“Don’t appear to be so.”
The guy looked them over. “You guys go down there and check the room out?”
The bearded guy shook his head. “I glanced down. Looked like there was a tunnel or something.”
“You two feel comfortable staying back and checking it out? Everything’s squared away here. Scooter kinda freaked and went overboard. We were expecting a damn horde of those things. Found one already dead. Couple guys thought they saw someone in the field, but it all checked out. Anyway, I need to get everyone back to camp. We can spare you two for a few hours.”
“Sounds good.” The bearded man set his cap back on his bald head, patted the other guy’s chest, and both of them headed off.
“All right, get up,” Cutoff Flannel said. He reached behind his back and retrieved two bandannas, both black with white stenciling. He held them out in front of Emma and Barbara. “You each take one. Cover your eyes. Don’t try to be tricky if you want to keep ‘em.”
Emma folded the bandanna over and wrapped it around her head until she’d blocked the light out. She hoped Barbara did the same. One of the men grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away. She stumbled, but kept her balance. The guy made her stop. A door opened.
“Step up,” the guy said.
She reached out, felt a cloth seat and lifted her leg, using the frame as a guide. She settled onto the seat, and whispered, “Barbara?”
“I’m here, Em,” Barbara replied.
“Both of you shut up.” It sounded like Cutoff Flannel.
Emma let herself fall to her left until her shoulder collided with Barbara’s. She felt the woman’s hair settle onto her skin, and caught a hint of her perfume. That was better than the musty odor of the truck.
Two doors closed. The truck sank to the left, then the right. Two more doors closed. The truck thumped as it was shifted into gear. They began rolling. The horn blasted. Several others went off in response. All around her, large engines roared to life. It sounded like a lion’s den at feeding time.
That’s where we’re going, Emma thought. Straight into the lion’s den.
Chapter 34
Sean stayed low, using the trees for cover. He aimed through the MP7’s sights. One pull of the trigger could take the guy down. But his training took over and he backed down.
If he fired, every man standing there would descend upon his daughter and Barbara.
There were no more rules. Kill and kill alike. Sean would kill. Not yet, though. He needed a plan because the trucks were pulling out and soon they’d be gone.
And so would Emma.
He pushed forward as far as he could go without risking being spotted. Maybe he went a little too far. He knew some of these men. They were adept at spotting that which others might miss. He stayed on the ground, memorizing everything he could about the truck that held Emma and Barbara.
With fuel supplies likely running low, the men couldn’t have traveled far. His mind raced through options, the majority of which did not end well. There was no way he could out-muscle over a dozen men in this situation. Not when they held a hostage so precious to him. He had no means of neutralizing them all.
He considered boarding the final truck. He could take out two or three men, but with them pulling up the rear, the others might notice. He figured his odds at twenty-eighty, give or take a few.
He waited while the first four trucks pulled away. Each vehicle stirred up more dirt than the last. By the time the fifth approached, the dust could have provided him with cover.
Through the haze of dust and grit, Sean noticed that one truck remained. He used his field glasses and spotted a man standing outside the barn. Why had someone stayed behind?
They must have found the tunnel.
He knelt down and hid behind a tree as the fifth truck rolled past. His odds looked better taking on one man as opposed to a dozen or so. Maybe the remaining truck had a map or GPS or some other way of locating where the rest of the group traveled. He could get the guy outside the barn to talk. That was the easy part. Getting to him before he left, or before the others returned, was what was important now. Sean couldn’t wait any longer.
He doubled back through the woods, along the road, turning right and passing the house. He continued toward the back of the property. At the rear corner, he turned right again, staying about twenty feet deep. The path led him to the barn.
The rumble of the trucks had long since passed. The air was filled with the obnoxious shrilling of the cicadas.
Sean eased forward until he reached the edge of the woods. Ten feet of open space separated him from the back of the barn. He moved quickly, turning to the left once he reached it. He slipped around the side of the barn, taking a step and stopping and listening. He halted at the final corner.
Cigarette smoke wafted past. The guy standing there cleared his throat.
Perfect. He won’t have both hands ready to respond.
Sean eased around the corner, MP7 extended and aimed at the guy’s back. He let out a short two-tone whistle.
The guy dropped his cigarette and reached for his sidearm while spinning around. Faced with Sean’s semi-automatic submachine gun, the man lowered his weapon to the ground, and lifted his hands over his head.
“What are you doing?” Sean said.
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
The guy gestured backward with his head. “My partner’s down there.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Investigating, I suppose.”
“Where’d they take the girls?”
“What girls?”
Sean felt his rage build. The man lied to him. He could see it in the guy’s eyes.
“Last chance,” Sean said.
“Fuck you,” the guy said.
“Turn around, drop to your k
nees.”
The guy did as told.
“Hands behind your head, fingers locked. Cross your legs at the ankles.”
“What’re you gonna do to me?” the guy asked, fear choking his voice.
“Just do what I say and nothing’s gonna happen to you.”
The man interlaced and locked his fingers. He lifted his right foot and let it fall over his left.
Sean leaned forward, grabbed the guy by his forearm and shook him to demonstrate the lack of balance the position afforded him. “Now, tell me what they are going to do with my daughter.”
The man said nothing. He twisted at the waist, looked back and spit.
Sean took a step back. He was getting nowhere with the guy. He pulled out his M9 and smashed it over the top of the guy’s head. The skin on the man’s head split open and blood gushed. The guy fell forward. Sean dragged him into the barn. He found a cord of yellow rope and tied the guy’s hands and ankles together. He reached under his arms and pulled him across the floor to the open hatch. The room below was empty. Sean pushed the man over the edge.
He stepped back and waited for a minute. No one called out. Footsteps didn’t echo from the tunnel. The other man wasn’t close enough to know what had just happened. Or he was smart enough to stay put. Sean figured it was the former, but he prepared for the latter.
He turned and eased himself down the ladder. Emma’s backpack hung from the ledge. He freed it and tossed it into the barn. He’d bring it along and return it to her.
At the bottom, Sean reached down and checked the man’s pulse. It was rapid and strong. The guy was still unconscious. Sean tore off a section of the man’s shirt and wrapped it around his head, gagging him. One less voice to worry about.
He stepped past the threshold and entered the dim tunnel. He heard a growl. A pair of eyes reflected light. Sean whistled. Marley limped forward, whimpering. Sean knelt down and inspected the dog. He’d been shot in his rear left leg. The wound had gone through and must not have caused too much damage. He figured whoever had done it had left the dog for dead.