Empty Is the Grave

by Candle Sutton

  The smell of sulfur permeated the air.

  The heavenly warrior stood alone. No demons remained.

  Whether the warrior had destroyed all of them or some had retreated, Josiah wasn’t certain.

  All he knew was that God had sent His angel to destroy the spiritual threat facing them at that moment.

  Thank you, Father.

  Now, only the physical threat remained.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Cortez shouted something at about the same time that his gun went off.

  Rafe started, even though he’d expected gunfire. The sound reverberated in his head.

  The man in the doorway fell.

  Outside, the gunfire continued.

  Cortez scrambled toward the door. “Help me move him!”

  Josiah joined Cortez, grabbing the man’s shoulders and helping to shove the body out the door. After grabbing the discarded assault rifle lying on the ground, Cortez slammed the door shut, the sound reverberating in the sudden silence.

  Cortez lifted the rifle and tried to jam it in the brackets on the door.

  Would it work?

  Rafe felt the first glimmer of hope lodge in his chest.

  If they could block that door, they could stay here until help arrived. The stone walls would protect them from stray bullets, and the steel door should withstand any assault.

  Cortez cursed and fiddled with the rifle.

  He popped the magazine off and tried to wedge it in the brackets, but it was too short. With another curse, Cortez tossed it to the floor.

  They needed to find something to wedge into the door. It was only a matter of time before more shooters showed up, shooters that might succeed in killing some or all of them.

  The lighthouse was made out of stone. Short of producing a jackhammer, they weren’t likely to work any of the stones loose.

  But the stairs were made of wood.

  Maybe he could bust out a few boards.

  It was their only option.

  He went beneath the stairs and started pushing on boards. The third step moved a little.

  Focusing on the ends, he kicked at the boards.

  The nails made an ear-piercing screech as they stubbornly held onto the frame, but the board slowly loosened. A few more kicks send the board bouncing up.

  “Yes!” Cortez snatched the board and jammed it into the brackets.

  One board wasn’t gonna cut it.

  Rafe checked a few more steps. One of the boards on the fifth step felt a little loose.

  It took a few more kicks to dislodge that one, but it finally gave. Cortez wedged it into the brackets beside the first board.

  A small laugh bubbled in Rafe’s chest. It was a weird response at a time like this, but a few loose boards might’ve just saved their lives.

  With the door barricaded, they should be able to wait out the battle in here.

  The battle raged on outside, with shots echoing from above and around. The noises blended together in a horrific symphony, making it impossible to tell where most of the shots were coming from.

  He jerked as something pounded against the door.

  The knob turned and the door rattled. Would their homemade locking system hold?

  More pounding.

  Then silence.

  What was going on? Were the people on the outside still trying to get in?

  A distant thwap-thwap-thwap sound filled the space, growing closer and louder until the ground practically shook with the force.

  A helicopter?

  He could only hope.

  Cortez froze, cupping one hand over his ear.

  What was he doing?

  His earpiece. Someone must be saying something. Was it Rush, asking how they were doing? Or telling them what was going on outside?

  Or maybe it was whoever was outside, telling them to open up. Yeah, maybe their backup had arrived, taken out the attackers, and was here to take them back to the safety of the prison.

  He never thought he’d see the day when he wanted to return to his cell.

  “We’re pinned down, too. Take shelter and we’ll connect later.” Cortez spoke into his microphone.

  So not the cavalry. Dang. “Who was that?”

  Cortez glanced at him. “Another prisoner. Claims everyone else is dead and that he needs help, but we can’t do nothin’ about that right now.”

  Footsteps pounded down the stairs.

  Rush appeared a minute later. Switch followed a few steps behind, sweaty and panting. “I don’t think that was one of ours. You catch the accent?”

  Cortez shook his head. “Too busy fending off the attack.”

  “Sounded Russian. We didn’t bring anyone with that kind of background with us.”

  Cortez stared at him. “You think they got one of our devices?”

  Rush shrugged. “Possible. I retrieved the one off Underwood, but he may not be the only casualty.”

  “I haven’t heard from any of our crew.” Cortez swallowed hard. “You think they’re all dead?”

  A heavy sigh burst from Rush. “That might be the one true thing from that communication.”

  “You see what’s goin’ down out there?” Rafe focused on Rush.

  “I think there are two groups of hostiles on the island. Two groups fighting each other.”

  And they were caught in the middle.

  Rush didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. It was obvious.

  “They booked it when the chopper flew overhead.”

  Cortez whipped his head around. “DOC chopper?”

  A single nod.

  Department of Corrections? Help had arrived! “That’s more like it! We all gonna fit on there?”

  Rafe had no idea how many people a chopper could hold, but surely it could hold six passengers, right?

  “Negative.” Rush crossed his arms. “It was a recon mission. Probably to find out why we weren’t checking in as scheduled. Good news is that they saw the armed dudes. They’ll be back with reinforcements.”

  He didn’t say how long that would take.

  While Rafe noticed the omission, pointing it out would help no one.

  “Did you get the signal working?” Chloe’s breathless question was directed at Switch.

  “Stupid thing is ancient. I couldn’t get nowhere on that.” Disgust was evident in Switch’s tone.

  “We don’t need it anyway. The chopper proves that they know we’re in trouble. They’ll be here in no time.”

  The confidence in Rush’s words might’ve fooled Chloe and Switch, but Rafe knew better. If he had to guess, he’d say it’d be at least an hour by the time they mobilized SWAT or the National Guard. Maybe longer.

  They might all be dead by then.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  What had a Department of Corrections chopper been doing flying over the island?

  Hugh scanned the sky for the dozenth time.

  No sign of it.

  That didn’t make him feel any better.

  It’d been about five minutes since the chopper had moved toward the mainland. Five minutes of hiding in the trees, watching the sky for its return.

  The chopper had been too low, its movements too methodical, to simply be passing by. No, they’d been looking for something.

  Or someone.

  Well, he could be pretty confident they hadn’t been after him and his crew. If they had been, it would’ve been the FBI or ATF, not DOC.

  Still, DOC could alert one of the law enforcement agencies, and then it’d all be over.

  Law enforcement would swarm this island. It’d only be a matter of time before their stash was discovered.

  The curses streaming through his head didn’t leave his lips.

  This was bad. Losing this island would make Bruce kill him for sure.

  All he could do was make sure they recovered all their merchandise. Maybe it’d be enough to save his life.

  Time to pack up shop. Before someone else did it for them.

  When law enforcement ar
rived, all they would find would be the bodies of those foolish enough to think they could steal what belonged to Bruce Lewis.

  He pushed the button on his radio. “Everyone down to the merchandise. We’re packing up.”

  Telling them to kill anyone who got in their way was unnecessary. They all knew what to do.

  He looked at the five men around him. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait.” Bruce held up a hand. “We’re headed back to the lighthouse. I want to interrogate whoever was hiding inside.”

  What the…? Was he insane?

  “You saw that chopper. I think the feds could be here any time.”

  “All the more reason to find out who else is here. We need to know who we’re up against and how heavily armed they are.”

  Bruce’s tone left no room for discussion.

  An ache started in Hugh’s jaw from his teeth clenching so tightly. Fine. Bruce wanted to waste their time talking to people, let him.

  He just hoped Bruce remembered that this bad call was his own.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Their location was compromised.

  Rush looked at the ragtag group around him. The full weight of their safety rested on him.

  Should they stay here? Or try to find a new hiding place?

  Sure, the chopper had sent the men running, but they’d be back. He was certain of it.

  The big question was whether or not those men could penetrate the defenses of this tower.

  Unless they were packing explosives, the stone walls would be impossible to break through. The steel door was no slouch, either. And Cortez had done a good job jamming the boards in to hold the door, although enough force could bust those out.

  The only windows were pretty high up. The lowest one, at about ten feet off the ground, could be a liability, but he’d be able to shoot anyone who crossed into the space.

  Before that person could get a shot off, if they were lucky.

  On the other hand, there was really only one way out of this place and he didn’t like being trapped.

  But where would they go? They likely wouldn’t find another building this fortified.

  With the boat gone, the only way off the island would be to swim. He tried to picture Cortez and himself swimming with a convict, two kids, and a preacher.

  Sounded like the punchline to a bad joke.

  Except no one was laughing.

  No, swimming wasn’t an option either. The distance, currents, and the cold waters of the bay would make even an experienced swimmer refuse to jump in.

  As much as inaction grated on him, staying put was their best option.

  Besides, with that bum ankle, the girl would really slow them down.

  “Is anyone there?”

  The same voice from before came though his earpiece. Yep, definitely detected some kind of Eastern European accent.

  Just like he had when a woman had spoken over the dead guy’s com earlier. She’d been speaking in a foreign language, so he hadn’t understood a thing, but the accent sounded similar.

  “Are you there?” The voice came again, a hint of panic lacing the words.

  “Who’s this?”

  A brief pause. “I’m one of the prisoners.”

  Not good enough. “Yeah, well I’m one of the guards and I don’t recognize your voice.”

  A rustling noise, like someone covering the mic, sounded in his ear. “Bad connection.”

  Now that was just insulting. “Sounded fine a second ago. Now. Who. Is. This.”

  The man rattled off a prisoner number.

  All that proved was that he could read the numbers off a jump suit. “You could’ve gotten that off a uniform. Your name.”

  “I don’t have much time! I can hear them in the hallway!” The man pulled in a ragged breath. “Everyone else is dead! I need your help!”

  “Then give me your name.”

  Silence dragged. Finally, a low chuckle came across the line. “You got me. Surrender now and we’ll let you live.”

  “Funny. I was going to say the same thing to you.”

  An explosive laugh burst into his ear. “Your friends are dead. How do you think you can stop us with the few people you have left?”

  Dead. Were all his guards really dead?

  He hoped not.

  It was a problem he’d have to deal with later. “You see that chopper that flew over? That was DOC, looking for us. They saw what’s going down out here. The National Guard’s gonna come storming this place before you know it.”

  Silence.

  Good. His threat had hit its mark.

  “You’re bluffing.” The man on the other end didn’t sound convinced.

  “Call my bluff. You’ll see soon enough.” He hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt because, really, he knew that organizing a rescue mission like this would take time.

  Time that he feared they didn’t have.

  A hiss seeped over the line. “Fine. You had your chance. When I find you, I’ll fill you with lead.”

  Fill him with lead? What was this, an old gangster movie?

  There was no point in engaging the man any further.

  His gaze collided with Cortez’s, where it was impossible to miss the other man’s fear.

  He should be afraid. They all should.

  “What’s going on?” The words rushed out of the girl’s pale lips, her expression saying she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know.

  Should he tell them?

  No good could come from knowing that the others were dead.

  May be dead. He wouldn’t take the word of some wacko with a gun.

  But at the same time, all of their lives were on the line. They deserved to know the truth.

  Or at least some version of it. “They got one of our communicators. Tried to convince me we needed to surrender, but that’s not gonna happen.”

  “If-if we do, will they let us live?” Switch looked hopeful for the first time in the last hour.

  “Doubt it. Surrendering will only give them hostages when our backup arrives.”

  A scraping sound came from the door.

  What…?

  He slashed his hand downward, instantly silencing everyone.

  More noises.

  Someone was definitely out there.

  He surveyed the room.

  Cortez sat opposite the door, his back against the wall. Everyone else huddled under the stairs.

  Except Josiah, who had his face lifted toward the heavens and eyes closed in prayer.

  Well, they needed all the help they could get.

  He signaled Cortez to keep an eye on the window, then edged toward the door, positioning himself at precisely the right angle to get off a shot should the door open.

  Wham, wham!

  Someone jerked on the door. The boards held.

  But for how long?

  More jerking on the door.

  Maybe he should run to the top of the light tower, try to get a shot at whoever was at the door.

  Wait. What if this wasn’t the guy on the radio? What if it was the other group, the ones who had been attacking the first set?

  Could the enemy of his enemy be his friend?

  Should he try to reason with them?

  Before he could make a decision, a gunshot exploded behind him, the echo bouncing between the stone walls.

  He turned to find Cortez standing, gun extended toward the window. “A guy. Up there.”

  Definitely time to reason.

  He strode toward the door and plastered his back to the wall beside it. “This is Sergeant Rushworth with the California Department of Corrections. We’re here with a prison work detail and pose no threat to you or your friends.”

  “Open up!” More pounding.

  “Negative.” Man, did he hope their rigged locking system was doing okay. “We have nothing to do with what’s going on.”

  A brief silence. “Help us and we’ll help you.”

  Fat chance. “Not happening. And you send
another guy up there, we’ll shoot him, too. We’ve got no part of your fight and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  No response.

  The silence stretched from one second to five, to thirty, to a minute, then two.

  Had they left?

  Or were they mobilizing an attack?

  Only one way to find out.

  He nodded at Cortez, then hurried up the stairs to the tower.

  A wind whipped over him as he stepped onto the parapet. He pulled in a deep breath of the fresh sea air. Man, he hadn’t realized how stuffy it was inside until he came up here.

  He looked over the edge.

  No sign of anyone on this side of the lighthouse.

  Then again, the door was on the other side.

  He circled the lamp room and looked down.

  Still not anyone in his line of vision.

  Looked like talking to the men had made them go away.

  For now.

  No telling if they’d return. Or when. Or with how many reinforcements.

  Eleven

  “You think they’re telling the truth?” Hugh glanced at Bruce, who led their group away from the lighthouse and the people holed up inside.

  Bruce’s lips tightened. “It would explain the DOC chopper. If they’re telling the truth, then we really don’t have time to worry about them. There might already be a rescue team en route.”

  Aside from that, the group barricaded inside the lighthouse clearly had the advantage.

  Hugh had already lost one man trying to get inside. He couldn’t afford to lose another.

  Their team, though highly skilled, was fairly small. And they had no idea what they were up against. They needed every man they could get.

  “For now, we need to assume they were telling the truth, which means time is running out. Let’s secure my merchandise. That is more important than a group of cowards hiding in a lighthouse.”

  Hugh nodded, though he wasn’t at all comfortable with the unknown variables facing them.

  No matter. He knew the face of each of his men. If he saw anyone, anyone, who wasn’t one of his, he’d take them down.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  The sound of the waves slapping the boat’s hull created a soothing melody, one that Zander suspected was a far cry from whatever was occurring on Alcatraz Island.

  He focused the binoculars on Alcatraz, looking for any sign of movement.