by Hunt, Jack
As they passed by a food distribution center and another church, they could see a long line of homeless outside looking for handouts, bottles of water, food, anything they could use. It amazed him how the focus was on eating and drinking rather than getting to safety but the truth was no one taught people about EMPs, or how to respond in a disaster. It was often left to families, survivalist workshops and individuals to educate and prepare themselves. The same people relying on handouts would be the first to succumb to die unless they wised up.
“You okay?” Colby asked.
Alicia nodded, breathing hard.
They were making progress and for a brief moment Colby figured they were in the clear — that was until he saw a guy across the street tap the shoulder of a friend and point their way. The other reached into his jacket pocket and pulled a handgun from a holster. “Oh shit.”
And just like that they were back in the thick of it.
They raced forward, pushing their way through the crowd. Except this time their pursuers weren’t firing. They knew better. There were too many people who’d get caught in the crossfire. It would lead to people turning on them. “Move. Move!” he bellowed as people got in the way. They ran another three blocks, his thighs burning.
Colby darted into an apartment block on the corner of Norton and Wilshire. Instead of going up the stairwell they dashed through the corridor and out a side exit, taking them across Bronson Avenue and between two houses.
The men were relentless.
Off the main stretch, they now felt comfortable to open fire.
A round speared a tree trunk ahead of them, causing them to search for cover. Both of them returned fire but moving at such a clip made accuracy nothing but a dream.
A crazy chase ensued.
From one yard to the next, they jumped over waist-high bushes and darted through gates, until they reached a luxury home with a large swimming pool and a pool house. Colby had Alicia get inside while he and Kane pulled back behind a wall, waiting for their pursuers.
They heard the footfalls, boots pounding the ground, then saw them rush ahead. Colby gave the command to attack and Kane launched forward as did he, startling them from behind. He unloaded a round into the first one, dropping him, while Kane took down the other guy. A gun flew out of his hand, landing on the lawn. Colby made his way over and kicked it, then instead of killing him like the last one, he placed a knee on his chest and the gun to his head and told Kane to release him.
“Who do you work for?”
“Screw you.”
“You don’t look Russian to me. Who do you work for?”
The guy snarled at him so Colby pistol whipped him. “Answer me!”
He spat blood. “You’ll never make it out of the city.”
“Who do you work for? I won’t ask you again,” he said, pressing the barrel hard against his head.
“Go ahead. Shoot me. I don’t care.”
“Really?” Colby gave the command for Kane to attack him again. That soon changed his tune as Kane tore up his leg. He screamed for him to get the dog off. He wouldn’t give the command to release until he told him.
“Andrei Tishkov.”
He remembered one of the men calling out that name back at the church. He noted the tattoo of a 13 on the guy. “But you’re a Sureño.”
“No shit.”
Colby slapped him again. “Were you told to bring us in?”
“Bring you in? Kill you. Everyone is looking for her. Bratva wants her dead,” he said, looking over at Alicia as she came out of the pool house. “And she will be,” he said in his thick Latino accent.
“Maybe, but not by you.” Colby rose and fired a round into his head. They didn’t hesitate to leave but not before collecting the mans gun. He stuffed it into his backpack. As they trudged on, staying parallel to Wilshire but continuing to cut through alleys and walkways between homes, Colby stopped on some fancy tennis court surrounded by trees.
“All right. Tell me. Why does Bratva want you? I get you might have pissed them off, a lot of people do, but I’ve seen the way gangs work, and no one gets other gangs involved and goes to all this trouble — especially under these conditions — unless you have done something really bad or have something they want. Now which one is it?”
“We don’t have time for this.”
He grabbed her by the arm. “Alicia.”
She stopped and glanced down the alley, nervous, then met his gaze.
“My boyfriend worked for them. He was involved in importing and exporting. It’s a long story.” She looked sheepish. “Look, I’ll tell you everything but not out here, not like this. It won’t change anything. That’s why I told you to let me go. I’m better off by myself. Your friends Daisy and Manny would still be alive.”
“They might not have known everything but they knew the risks associated with collecting a bond. You’re not the first to bring trouble our way.” He pointed at her. “But before this night is over, you’re going to tell me everything.”
He jerked his head and they continued, weaving through the maze of homes, staying off the main stretch and avoiding gangland territory, especially since the journey through Beverly Hills would take them close to West Hollywood, the heart of the Russian community.
There was more smoke on the west side of town. It was to be expected. The wealthy neighborhoods would be hit hard by those knowing cops weren’t coming to help.
They kept up a strong pace, jogging from one house to the next, stopping each time they saw large crowds. The trouble was there was no telling how many knew or how long they’d had her mugshot. On foot they were open game. If that Sureño was telling the truth, any number of gang members could be out looking. That kind of sway had to mean big money was behind whatever she’d gotten caught up in. Colby glanced at her. Daisy was right, Alicia reminded him of Skye. It wasn’t just her looks but the way she carried herself.
Don’t become attached. Get her out of the city and move on.
At some point they crossed Wilshire again, remaining on the south side to avoid getting close to West Hollywood as the road veered north. It was here they witnessed the worst. The two-mile stretch known as Rodeo Drive, that attracted the wealthiest of society, had been turned into an inferno.
It was unrecognizable. Whether the destruction was caused by a plane, looters or protesters, the famous area was ablaze, sizzling into nothing but rubble. Ash fell like snow as smoke billowed over the buildings and turned the black sky into bright orange.
It was the first time they’d seen police since the airport.
A handful of cops in SWAT gear were trying to keep the crowd calm and stop looters from entering buildings that were still intact, but it was an insane task.
Shots erupted. People screamed.
EMS were on hand with stretchers, a heroic attempt to cart out the injured using older model trucks that wouldn’t have been affected by the EMP.
They turned onto North Canon Drive, two streets over from Rodeo, to escape the desperate, except it was hard to find any street that wasn’t crammed with people going one way or another.
From there they made their way into the iconic neighborhood known as The Flats, where the streets were lined with tall palm trees and luxury homes that most would associate with the extravagance of Beverly Hills. It’s where many of the who’s who of celebrities lived, movie stars, film directors and music producers.
Colby was alert, scanning the terrain, the gated homes, the faces of pedestrians and those loitering. Everyone was a threat. The street was crowded. Many clambered over iron fences, taking advantage of the power failure to enter premises no longer armed with an alarm system.
Some looked ecstatic as they ran off with pockets full of jewelry. The only upside to traveling through that neighborhood was that no one cared about others, only what they could loot.
Suddenly, Colby grabbed Alicia and yanked her into a driveway. “What’s the matter?” She asked.
He pointed to the corner
of a home farther up the street. Colby had recognized one of the men, a guy from back at the church.
“Quickly, hop over,” he said as he bent down and interlocked his fingers to give her a boost to the top of the wrought-iron gate. It was one of the few homes along that street that no one appeared to have entered. Alicia supported herself by placing a hand on his back and a moment later was on the other side. Colby lifted Kane. “Dude, you need to lose a pound or two.”
He followed immediately after and they made their way up a huge driveway to a massive two-story Mediterranean style residence that sat on a double lot, with green vines creeping all over it. The garages could have easily held up to six cars.
They made their way around the side, expecting to face hostility, guard dogs, maybe even security but there was none. As Colby circled the house, the first thing that caught his eye was a huge pool for doing laps. It was narrow but covered the full width of the backyard.
“What you can do with money,” he said.
Out of breath, Alicia placed her hands on her knees. “I need to stop,” Alicia said. “Just for a while.”
Colby glanced at his watch. It was close to midnight.
They still had hours ahead of them. Hunger, thirst, and tiredness ate away. With thirty more miles before them, maybe now was the time to take a break.
“All right. But just for a while.” He glanced at the house, considering breaking in. It was like most along that street, dark, assumingly void of people. The rich owners had probably taken off, traveled to a second or third home as soon as the shit hit the fan. Still, that didn’t mean no one was home. Strangers showing up in the middle of the night at a time like this was cause for any homeowner to shoot first and ask questions later. He made his way up to the rear door, knocked on the glass, then backed away, hiding his gun. He turned on a flashlight, hoping that if there was someone inside, they might demand they leave or at least it would give him some indication that no one was home.
He checked the doors but they were locked. Then he moved along to the windows and found one that was closed but unlocked. He shimmied it up and called out into the blackness of the house. “Hello! Anyone home!?” He glanced back at Alicia who was holding Kane by the leash. There was no damn way he was entering without being sure.
Any homeowner with a lick of sense would have shouted or confronted them by now. He waited another five minutes, calling out to those inside before considering entering.
Fortunately he didn’t need to.
Someone made their way around to the window. Colby couldn’t see the person as he was blinded by a bright beam from a flashlight. “Who the fuck are you!?”
TWENTY-TWO
LUKE
Garberville
Luke touched the snubby .38 revolver against Alby’s bulbous nose. The lighting in the bedroom was dim. It was illuminated only by one hand-cranked lantern perched on a side table in the corner. With the creaking floorboards, he was surprised Alby didn’t register his approach. They’d waited until he’d gotten comfortable and was snoring up a storm before entering.
Laid out on a top sheet, wearing nothing but a pair of white Y-fronts, the slob looked like a beached walrus. The whole room stank to high heaven of body odor and dirty ashtrays. It was vile. Luke’s disgust changed into an expression of glee as Alby’s eyes snapped open.
“Good evening,” Luke said.
Alby went to get up but was quickly thrust down. “I expect you’re wondering how I managed to slip by your shitty traps, right?” Alby sneered and Luke pressed the barrel against his skin. “Well, let me tell you. It was the same way we got around them to damage those crops back in the summer. You Rikers really are stupid.”
Through gritted teeth, Alby spoke. “You mother—”
Luke pistol-whipped his face then got close. “What? What was that you were about to say?” He paused. “Get him up,” he barked. Edgar and Jared hauled him out.
“Damn, Alby, you smell like shit. No wonder your only companion is a dog. You ever thought of taking a bath?” Edgar said. They shoved him out of his room and he stumbled, landing on his belly in the corridor. Jared laughed.
“Lenny?” Alby called out. “You better not have touched my dog.”
“We might dislike you Rikers but we draw the line at animals. What do you think we are, monsters?”
“Assholes,” Alby shot back.
Jared kicked him in the nuts and he gasped, curling over.
“That’s enough,” Luke said. “We’re not here for that. At least not yet.”
Hoisted up, he was brought into the kitchen, his feet dragging behind him. Edgar set the lantern in the middle of the table. Its warm glow spread.
Luke took one of the chairs and spun it around and took a seat in front of Alby. He took out of his top pocket a box of cigarettes and tapped one out, bringing the pack and the end of the cigarette to his lips. He took his time, cracking open his Zippo lighter and scorching the end before blowing a plume of smoke in Alby’s face.
“Don’t look so worried, Alby. I just want a conversation.”
“Like you did with Bruce?” he shot back.
Luke snorted and glanced at Jared who took a can of beer out of the fridge and cracked it open. “Bruce got what was coming to him. He knew it. We knew it. Even a dumbass like you knew it. Even if Ryland hadn’t chewed on a bullet, your brother would have.” Luke folded his arms on the backrest of the chair as he leaned forward, inserting the cigarette into the corner of his mouth and taking small puffs. “My cousin Nina was here tonight. How about you start by telling me why?”
“Blow me.”
“C’mon, Alby.”
“Ask her yourself.”
“I plan to but I’m asking you.”
“No idea. I didn’t even know she was here.”
Luke chuckled and took another drag, then got up and made his way over to the fridge to get a beer. “Blue Ribbon? That’s all you’ve got?” He shook his head as he cracked it open and returned. “Alby. Listen to me. We can go down the whole torturing you for information but that’s so clichéd. Okay? We’re adults. We can talk about this. Nina showed up. We saw her. We saw you. We saw Jessie. Now I’m going to ask you again. Why was she here?”
He shrugged.
“You really aren’t making this easy. Would it help if I shot your dog?”
That got a reaction out of him. Alby tried to lunge at Luke but he was too heavy, too slow. Luke cracked him on the nose with a sharp jab, sending him reeling back into his seat. If it hadn’t been for Edgar standing behind him, he might have toppled over. “See what you made me do now? C’mon, Alby, I wouldn’t shoot your dog. I mean I despise you but even I have limits. Heck, that poor furry bastard didn’t choose to be associated with you low-lives. Now just tell me and we can be on our way.”
Alby placed a finger to one nostril and snorted blood to the side of him, some of it went down his shirt. “She was here to see Jessie. How the hell should I know what was said? The conversation was private.”
Luke’s features twisted. “Uh-huh. Okay, we’ll swing back to that in a moment. Let’s move on. The stolen groceries and medicine. Where are they now?”
“How the hell should I know?”
Luke smiled at Edgar. He tutted. “Alby, Alby… My friend, I thought we were getting somewhere. Making… real progress. Come on. If the goods are not here, does it matter if you tell me where they were taken? I’ll eventually find out. And look, I know Jessie took them as we were there. So… let’s not do the dance.”
“They’re gone. I don’t know where. There you go. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Okay. Bad news, but hey, at least you’ve been forthright.” He stabbed his finger at him. “I appreciate that. I really do. Don’t we, guys?” Luke glanced at his grinning brothers. He was toying with Alby. He enjoyed it as much as he did getting laid. There was something exquisite, almost erotic about looking a person in the eye who knew they were up shit creek without a paddle.
&nbs
p; “I don’t understand why you care. With an uncle in office, I figured you morons would have free rein.”
Luke refused to answer that. He didn’t want him to know what they had or didn’t have. The truth was Dan was of no use to them, at least at this time. That would change.
“Let’s try this another way. Tell me what Jessie said to you after his little spat with Nina.”
“I told you. I don’t know.”
“I wish I could believe that. I really do but… I don’t. So let’s try this again.” Luke rolled his hands around in front of him. “What did he say?”
“You’re wasting your time. I don’t know.”
Luke dropped his cigarette and crushed it beneath his boot.
“Is this when you torture me now?” Alby said, chuckling.
Luke stared back at him.
“I told you. I don’t do that kind of thing, but Edgar here — he’s a different beast. I’m going to step out for a bit. Have another cigarette. Leave you with my brothers. See what they can come up with.” Luke got up and strolled out the back door, taking out his cigarettes.
“You pussy!” Alby shouted.
Luke laughed, looking back in. As he dipped his head and brought a cupped hand over the cigarette to block the wind, he felt something hard press against the back of his skull. “Don’t say a word.”
A second later, Luke was shoved back into the house, now under the watchful eye of Jessie. The table was lined with knives and Edgar had rolled up his sleeves, ready to get busy.
Jessie had a firm grip on Luke’s jacket and a handgun pressed to the back of his head. Jared’s eyes bulged and he jerked his head toward the door. Edgar turned. At which point, Jessie shifted the gun and shot Luke’s ear off aiming at Edgar. The round hit Edgar square between the eyes, knocking him over. It killed him instantly. Jared turned to flee but two rounds entered his back and he collapsed halfway down the corridor.
Luke was in agony, screaming, holding a hand over his ear as Jessie thrust him to the floor. “You okay, Alby?”