by Louise Dawn
He’d have to thin the herd first. He wondered if Bronco and his team were part of the hunt. That would be a challenge. And this couldn’t last for hours or days. Muscles cramped, and he ignored the pain. Antonio was dehydrated, and unless he found a water source, he’d soon crash.
Spotting an outcropping surrounded by thick brush, Antonio switched direction and launched himself upwards. He edged further into the shade and settled down to rest and wait. His thoughts turned to his last moments with Pearl and he gritted his teeth against the pain. Plastic sheeting… used to contain bodily fluids. What were they doing to her? Was he already too late? Shuddering with grief, Antonio shifted into a crouch and clenched his shaking hands.
A light rain shower cooled the air as the afternoon wore on. The almost 360-degree view from his vantage point offered a slight advantage, and he listened carefully to the forest sounds.
“What the hell was that?” A voice drifted on the breeze, and Antonio perked up.
“Just a little critter. Keep your voice low, boy. This agent is apparently well trained and doesn’t fuck around.”
“We should stick with the others—back in that town. That’s where he’d be—he’ll try and head towards the holding facility.”
Antonio spotted a flash of khaki, and he edged around a boulder for a better angle.
“No. That’s where you’d be. I should have sent you to the damn Marines, but at least you’re a good shot. Now, follow me and shut your trap.”
The targets paused below Antonio. It was about a fifteen-foot drop, and Antonio prepared himself for a smooth assault. The blabbermouth looked to be in his late twenties. He’d take out the older man first, who showed evidence of military training.
A couple more steps and Antonio dropped from the ledge like a stone…
“Oof.” The large man stumbled under the falling weight. As they fell, Antonio secured an arm around the man’s neck and twisted. Rolling away after impact, he sprung to his feet, now holding the asshole’s shotgun.
The younger man stumbled back and raised his rifle. Moving quickly, Antonio sidestepped and slammed the butt of his weapon in the guy’s face. As he fell, Antonio struck out again, aiming for his collarbone. The rifle dropped from nerveless fingers, and Antonio shoved it away with his foot. Not a shot had been fired, and that meant that his location wasn’t compromised.
“My… my dad.” The target mumbled as he writhed in pain.
“You mean that piece of garbage? Who paid a fuck-ton of money to hunt humans? Sorry. He’s dead.”
“You asshole…”
“Stop moving around. You have a broken collar bone.” Antonio searched the old man and found what he was looking for—a canteen filled with water. The hunting knife would also serve him well, and he retrieved the clip-on sheath.
“Killed my dad….”
“Ah, shit.” Antonio spotted the hand clutching a pistol just as the son shifted it from beside his waist. A swift blow to the throat ended the stand-off, and Antonio removed the third weapon. Lingering in the open wasn’t wise, and he slid back into the trees. This time he was on the offensive. The hunters were now the prey.
“Switch to camera five.” Bronco leaned in and studied the terrain. The control room was awash with activity as they searched for movement indicating Agent Torres’s location. He was a damn ghost, and Bronco knew they shouldn’t have used him as the prey.
The man was a legend and a machine in the field and could move silently and quickly. Joining the hunt would be the wisest move as these rich fucks had zero experience. There were a lot of them, and Bronco knew it was only a matter of time before one of them winged Snax and drove him to the ground.
“I have twenty-five cameras set up in the reserve!” Harland leaned on his knuckles, his nose to a screen. “Cyrus, could he have scaled the perimeter fence?”
“Hell, no,” Bronco firmly replied. “That would draw attention, and I know him well. He won’t leave without searching for that bitch and her kid.”
“He’ll fail.” Chortling in amusement, Harland straightened. “If he miraculously finds his way back to the holding cell, you know what to do. We can build another one.”
The perks of partnering with a tycoon who used his cash to blow shit up. Bronco enjoyed working for a maniacal nutcase and was never bored.
“Camera twenty.” Bronco waggled a finger at the screen, and a guard tapped away. An abandoned gas station came into focus. “Harland, your guests are still lurking near the town. Are they planning a shitting barbecue? Seriously, where did you find these lazy pricks?”
“There are some inept idiots in the mix. But we also have some top marksmen and ex-military, so it will be interesting to see who survives a run-in with the agent.”
Bronco still didn’t like the odds.
“Aren’t you supposed to be with Rajin? At the big house?” Harland asked. “Antonio Torres is no longer your concern.”
“I’m watching out for you.”
“Didn’t know you cared. I’m surrounded by an army. Go and have some fun, and if I need you, I’ll call.”
“I only care about my fat paycheck.” Bronco grinned as he sauntered towards the door. “Keep me updated.”
His neck itched, and Bronco resisted the urge to turn back. He shouldn’t care about Snax’s gruesome demise. They actually planned to take his head—like a trophy. Usually, Bronco would be first in line, but his old friend had saved his ass so many times. Images flashed of fighting extremists in the Afghan mountains. Of camping under the stars and laughing at lewd jokes. Of lying prone beside each other for hours as they watched a village.
“Snax” had indeed earned his nickname due to his perfect disposition. He was the hero that every man wanted to be. Antonio always made the right call under fire, and when they were off duty, women always flocked to his side. Like a true leader, he’d ignored them and focused on his team.
An alluring snack that was kept out of reach. Bronco hadn’t said no to the ladies. He’d been with countless “frog hogs.” Chicks who wanted to bag a Navy Seal. He wasn’t any prize, and some of them had learned hard lessons.
Bronco exited the building and walked down the path. The road split. One direction led to Rajin’s guest house. The other led to an active hunt. Thunder rumbled, and Bronco considered his choices. Save an army buddy or walk away.
When he spotted the camera mounted to a tree, Antonio paused. He’d been crawling forward in the wet dirt, slowly closing in on the large solitary male. The tango stood directly under the camera and scratched at his neck as he scanned a nearby thicket. The light rain provided excellent cover, and Antonio waited patiently for the man to move. This would be the fifth kill. The last three targets had fallen quietly like dominos.
Antonio liked knives. Silent work drew zero attention, and he preferred to keep it that way for as long as possible. This target was cautious and capable. The tattoo on his arm of a compass and aviation wings indicated service in the Air Force. Minutes passed by as Antonio waited. Stalking prey was part of his extensive SF training, and he ignored the water dripping onto his back and the centipede crawling over his wrist. He held the knife easily in an “edge out” reverse grip.
When the large man finally stepped into the brush and away from surveillance, Antonio made his move. With his parkour skills, he used a tree trunk as leverage and took the enemy by surprise. Before he’d realized what happened, his throat was slit, and the target slid to his knees. Without pause, Antonio slid back into the shadows and zeroed in on the derelict town.
He wanted to howl out his agony. How many hours had passed since he’d last seen Pearl? Were they still torturing her? Had they taken her life? Or was Bronco just playing with his head—driving Antonio over the edge of sanity? Here he was, stuck in some dark video game, still helpless to save her.
To find her, he had to survive, but her time was too precious, and he’d need to speed up the hunt. It was time to change up the game and declare war on the remaining participa
nts.
Backtracking, he returned to where he’d hidden the shotgun and a rifle. He’d also retrieved the ammo for both weapons.
Keeping alert, he circled quickly to the church. He crawled to a wall and laid the shotgun beside him, using the building as cover before aiming the hunting rifle. As he’d expected, movement registered down the street. Two men in full camouflage stepped into view. What a bunch of tools. They’d dressed in a U.S. Woodland camo pattern which was fine for hiding out in the woods but not so great for urban warfare.
Unaware that they’d painted a massive target on their backs, they trundled his way. Both men looked unfit. Knowing he’d already blown his position via surveillance cameras, Antonio pulled the trigger. He aimed for their knees. An impossible shot for many to make, but he succeeded. Once. Twice.
They fell, screaming, as he grabbed his weaponry, and launched himself over a wall, and aimed for a side lane. A bullet bit into the pavement beside him, and another slammed into a stop sign as he ducked and dove. A third hidden assailant, who was a great shot, kept firing as Antonio barreled into a side street and took cover behind a battered truck.
Whoever had fired upon him was positioned on a second story, and Antonio risked a glance. A bullet ate through the side window, and he crouched behind the wheel.
“There he is!” Someone shouted, and he rolled under the truck as footsteps approached. Two sets of feet. Keeping his finger on the trigger, Antonio aimed low, and they both tumbled like bowling pins. Sliding backward, he popped out the rear and took off.
He’d purposely left the rifle behind after running out of ammo. The shotgun held 12 balls of lead, although Antonio knew that he still faced a sniper who narrowly missed him as he leaped over a railing. He ran full-out using buildings as cover, rewinding to where he guessed the shots were coming from.
His lungs burned as he used his parkour skills to scale the side of the two-story bank. His target had stopped shooting, and Antonio knew that the sniper now looked for an escape. Spotting movement through a window, he dropped down and entered through a side door.
As the asshole descended the stairs, Antonio fired a shot.
“Goddammit!” A deep voice cursed, and he knew that he’d hit flesh.
Still striking at the threat, Antonio launched himself upwards, landing and rushing the startled sniper. A blast from his shotgun had the tango staggering back. Antonio had aimed for the dominant arm, and the sniper rifle dropped to the floor. He slammed the butt of his gun in the man’s stomach before reaching for the new weapon.
“I’ll take that.”
The writhing man cursed a blue streak, and Antonio lifted him by the front of his shirt. “How many men am I facing?”
“Fuck you.”
“This is the bridge you want to die under? Protecting a bunch of sick dickheads?” Antonio searched the man’s pockets and found a wad of zip ties.
“You won’t let me live.”
“A few will survive—I haven’t killed everyone. Like those two clowns on Main Street. How many?”
Silence.
“They have my girlfriend and her small child. What do you think I’ll do to you to find my answers?” Antonio dragged the man up the stairs and back towards the roof.
“Okay. Okay. Stop!”
When Antonio let go, the man’s head hit the floor with a thud.
“There are eleven of us… excluding Harland and his men.”
“Eleven hunters?”
“Yes, sir.”
Antonio did the math. “I’m missing one man. Who else is in the town? Besides the men that I’ve shot. I’ve taken out five men in the forest.” Antonio described the fallen hunters.
“Jesus. You took them all out? Who are you?”
“Who am I missing?”
“Kevin Johnson. The last time… last time I saw him… was in the grocery store. Lurking in the aisles.”
“How long ago?”
“An hour ago. He said it was nice and cool in there… keeping watch through the window.”
“Thanks for your cooperation. I guess you get to live.” Antonio made quick work of securing the bastard to the stair railing before exiting the building.
Night had fallen, and the street lay quiet. Harland’s men would come for him, and he expected them any second. Deciding to leave the last player at his post, Antonio took off in the opposite direction. As long as Kevin Johnson left Antonio alone, he wouldn’t bother tracking him down. His priority had always been to rescue Pearl, and now that he’d thinned the herd, he could possibly get to her without first being shot in the head.
If anyone crossed his path—and they would—he was now armed and ready to fight.
“Kill the bastard.” Harland threw out the order after slamming his fist to the table. “How dare he make a mockery of my friends—and of me. And look at them! Littering the damn street and whining like girls. What am I supposed to do if I get sued? They signed a contract and that consent form.” Harland pointed at the attorney hiding at the back of the room. “You told them that he was unpredictable. Right?”
“Yes… yes, sir.”
“And where is he going now?”
One of the guards looked up. “He seems to be heading our way. I can send out a team.”
“Do that.”
The door slammed open, and his chief security rushed to Harland’s side. “We have a problem.”
“I can see that. I have dead friends.” Harland pointed at the screen.
“No, we’re being attacked. Multiple bogies are hitting our fence line and front gate.”
“Well, take care of it!”
“They have high numbers and—”
“Why am I paying you?” Harland bellowed. “For times like this!” Shoving past the nervous fool, Harland rushed for the door.
“Where are you going, sir? It’s safer here if—”
“I’m going to take care of problem number one first—that cocky agent. Get hold of Bronco—he’s with the client. Tell them to pull out and get to safety.”
“Sir, I need to get you out of here.”
“And I need a few of your men. We’ll meet at the helipad once I’m done.” Harland pocketed a two-way radio.
“How are you going to find one man? We have dozens more to worry about.”
“I’m gifting Agent Torres with a fireworks display. The show ain’t over until I say so.”
Antonio crouched at the edge of the clearing. His head spun from fatigue, and he swayed on his feet. Scanning the area surrounding the holding cells, he looked for the enemy. The full moon gave good visuals now that the clouds had cleared. It was too quiet. Not even the crickets chirped, and the eery silence had his hair standing on end.
The urgent need to race to her side would get them both killed, and he had to approach carefully. Just as Antonio stood, gunfire echoed through the night. Too far off to be aimed his way. He stilled. Another round rang through the hills.
Distant shouts indicated a firefight, and hope stirred. Had they been found? By Everett or the Feds? Antonio collapsed against a tree and huffed out a tired breath. Knowing he wasn’t alone, he checked the Glock he now held. Courtesy of the sniper bastard. Circling the clearing, Antonio closed in and headed for the entrance.
“Antonio!”
The whispered shout had him jerking around.
“Easy! It’s me.” Everett stepped from the shadows, along with a squad of men.
“Thank the fuck!”
“Shit, man. You look like hell! I was right about you being a grenade. Where is Pearl?”
“The last place I saw her was here.” Antonio croaked out the words. “Harland separated us earlier.” How could he tell Everett what he’d last seen in this hellhole? They’d prepped her for death.
“Your brother is also here; he’s breaching the main gate. Let’s move.”
Antonio didn’t need to be told twice. Compared to Everett, he was already closer to the cells. He took a step, and his body flew backward. The building b
lew apart as heated shrapnel slammed into the earth. The explosion seared the air. Landing hard on his side, Antonio gasped for breath through searing smoke. His ears rang, and blood poured into his eyes as he tried to raise his head.
Strong hands gripped his arms, and he was dragged away from the wild flames.
“Pearl!” He tried to shout her name and couldn’t form words. “Pearl…” Shaking off the men holding him back, Antonio crawled towards the carnage. He had to rescue her before the flames took over.
“Stop! It’s too late.” Everett’s words sounded distant. His ears still buzzed, and Antonio tried to push himself to his feet.
“Stop!”
“She’s in there!” Antonio stumbled forward.
Everett blocked his way. Tears streamed down a grimaced face. “There’s nothing left to save. It’s too late.”
Antonio sunk to his knees and stared at the demolished building. Smoke poured into the night’s sky as nearby brush began to burn. The crushing pain in his aching chest built into a roar, and he screamed out his denial.
“Incoming bogies!” A man shouted, and Everett grabbed Antonio’s arm as bullets ate into the ground.
“Move.” Both men stumbled for cover, and when an enemy popped out from behind a tree, Antonio brought up his handgun and shot the fucker in the head. Devoid of all feelings, he did the same to a second target and then a third.
Everett’s team was well trained and performed smoothly as they defended their position. Catching a glimpse of a heavier set man, Antonio zoned in on the faltering jackass. Realizing his identity, Antonio sprinted across the clearing and closed in on Harland. The bigwig scampered through the trees like a scared rabbit.
“Going somewhere?” Antonio blocked his escape, and when Harland tried to raise his rifle, Antonio shot him in the center of his bulletproof vest.
The tycoon fell like a boulder. Tears still dried on Antonio’s bloodied cheeks, and he swiped at his face before kneeling and disarming Harland.