Empty Is the Grave

by Candle Sutton

  Silence screamed for a second, before one of the SWAT guys stepped closer. “All of you on your stomachs. Spread your hands and legs and don’t move. Do it now!”

  One by one, the men on the ground complied with the instructions.

  The group surged forward. The Coasties collected weapons while Zander joined the other police officers. Using the zip ties SWAT had provided, they lashed the men’s hands behind their backs.

  That had been easy.

  Almost too easy.

  He looked at the group.

  In fact, shouldn’t there be more people?

  An uneasiness settled over him like mist off the bay. Something wasn’t right, and in a situation like this, that could cost lives.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  “These are restricted waters. Identify yourself!” The captain’s terse words drew Josiah’s attention to the boat’s wheelhouse.

  Stress levels were running high.

  And no wonder. The amount of gunfire that had gone around this island would put anyone on edge, even the most seasoned of police officers.

  “US Marshals. We’ve come for the prisoners.”

  “Affirmative.” The captain hung up the radio’s mic and turned toward the open waters.

  Josiah followed his gaze.

  A boat, about the same size as some of the larger tourist boats that frequented this island, chugged toward them. Several minutes later, it docked at the end of the pier.

  A dozen deputies in navy jackets exited the craft.

  Reinforcements had arrived! A smile worked at his lips.

  Even though the fiercest battle raged overhead, unseen by the humans around him, the battle between flesh and blood was very real. Very deadly.

  He was glad Zander would have even more help to bring the human threats under control.

  The captain met them at the gangplank and inspected badges before offering a few communication devices. “Sorry, this is all that’s left.”

  One man, a big guy who moved like a stampeding rhinoceros, accepted the proffered device and immediately spoke over the communicator. “Deputy Patton, US Marshals. Advise on your location.”

  A few seconds later, he gave his team a clipped nod. “They’re waiting for us on the other side of the island. Just busted up a big gang, I guess.”

  Turning back to the captain, Patton assessed Rafe and the group on the boat. “You have this situation under control?”

  The captain nodded. “Had it under control long before you got here.”

  “Then we’ll go where we’re needed.” Patton waved his arm over his head and the group of deputies – ten men and two women – fell into step behind him.

  After a brief stop by the other boat, probably to make sure that the captain there had control of the four prisoners, the group hurried up the paved path before disappearing around the buildings.

  Josiah turned his attention to the battle looming above.

  Already the darkness had lifted.

  As he watched, an angel delivered a devastating blow that looked like lightning, vanquishing a particularly large demon in a puff of gray smoke.

  One down, still a great number to go.

  While there were plenty of creatures up there, the army of God was prevailing.

  As he’d known it would.

  He added his prayers.

  The Lord would overcome, He always did. But how many casualties would the enemy claim before that victory was assured?

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Chloe stared at Josiah. She couldn’t help it.

  If he looked at her and caught her staring, she’d probably light up like the Golden Gate after dark, but he exuded peace, something she desperately needed.

  Without question, he was one of the weirdest guys she’d ever met and yet, totally likeable.

  In fact, she couldn’t imagine anyone not liking this guy.

  Right now though, he seemed burdened. Which was weird, with the number of cops and Coasties and US Marshals on the scene.

  Even stranger was that he wasn’t looking at the island.

  Or the boats.

  He was watching the sky.

  Like he expected a missile to drop on them or something?

  It hadn’t been that long since they’d heard a series of explosions on the island. She’d assumed that it had been the cops trying to take down the bad guys, but what if she was wrong?

  Her stomach dropped.

  Maybe the bad guys had gotten their hands on some rockets or grenades or something. Maybe they had overcome the police and were going to attack the boats next.

  Could that happen?

  Anything could happen. The last twelve hours had proven that.

  Twenty-four hours ago she’d have said that a group of freaks taking over Alcatraz was impossible, yet it had happened. And she’d been caught smack dab in the center of it all.

  Were they gonna die now, when it all seemed like things would be okay?

  As if sensing her anxious thoughts, Josiah dropped his gaze and met her eyes.

  Heat touched her ears, but she didn’t look away.

  Whoa! His eyes looked purple in this light!

  Which was totally ridiculous. No one had purple eyes, especially not people with his coloring.

  Still, his magnetism made it impossible to look away. She was drawn to him in a way that was weirdly comforting.

  Not in an attraction sort of way. More like an older brother who you knew would always have your back.

  She’d always wanted one of those.

  “God wants you to have peace, Chloe.”

  His words made her blink.

  Peace? Had she ever really known peace?

  “How… what do you mean?”

  “Your anxious thoughts about all this,” he swept his hand toward the island, “will leave you scared and dissatisfied. God alone can bring the stability and security you desire.”

  “What do you know about her desires?” Switch’s voice held a note of defensiveness. “You don’t know us. Either of us.”

  Josiah’s smile never faltered. “I know you both want a place to feel safe. A place where you can really be accepted for who you are. Deep inside, that’s what everyone wants.”

  Switch snapped his mouth shut. Probably wanted to argue it, but couldn’t.

  Because Josiah was right.

  “Where is that place? You know, the one where you’re accepted.”

  Josiah rested a hand over his chest. “It’s in here. When you have the Spirit of God living in you, you carry His peace, His unconditional love and acceptance, around with you. No matter the storm raging outside, you always have the option of choosing His peace.”

  If that was true, she wanted it.

  “Yeah, then why doesn’t my stepdad have the peace about him?” Switch glowered at Josiah. “He’s a Bible thumper, too.”

  And, if what Josiah had said earlier was true, a Switch beater.

  “That peace is available to all who believe, but you have to choose it.” Josiah gentled his tone and looked at Switch with something that resembled affection. “I can’t answer why your stepfather hasn’t chosen the path of peace. But I can tell you that your real Father, Almighty God who is always watching over you, loves you more than you can understand.”

  Switch huffed, but his face lacked conviction.

  Maybe because Josiah was so darn convincing. He really believed this stuff. Lived it, too.

  What if it was all real?

  The grave is empty.

  His words from earlier echoed through her mind.

  Something told her the meaning behind those words was deeper than she knew.

  Because from where she stood, the grave’s voracious appetite consumed. Those who entered never left.

  Yet Josiah claimed that the grave lacked power.

  She wanted him to be right. In spite of the number of police on the island, they weren’t in the clear yet.

  In case the grave came after her, she wanted there to be something mor
e.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Zander slid the clasp on another zip tie and looked up to find a cluster of US Marshals approaching.

  Way to arrive late to the party, boys.

  He caught sight of a ponytail.

  And girls.

  The Marshal leading the group approached one of the SWAT guys. “We’re here to take charge of the prisoners.”

  The SWAT guy waved his hand. “Go for it. You’re gonna need help, though.”

  “Holy…!” Cuss words blasted through Zander’s earpiece.

  What was going on?

  “We need backup! Now!” He recognized the voice as belonging to Sampson. “They’re coming up the stairs like ants! There’s dozens of ‘em! Armed!”

  The SWAT guy turned to the Marshal. “You got these guys?”

  The Marshal, who clearly had an earpiece of his own, waved them off. “Go. We’ve got this.”

  Waving his arm, the SWAT guy motioned for Zander, the other officers, and the Coasties to all follow him. “Let’s move!”

  Zander fell into step with the group.

  He had no idea where they were going, but the SWAT guys seemed to know.

  Heck, they’d probably memorized maps on the way here. Likely knew the island better than the tour guides.

  They scurried over the rocks, climbing toward higher ground. Twice Zander’s foot slipped on the unsteady ground, but he managed to keep from going down.

  Reaching the paved path above, they followed it to the left.

  A long, run-down building loomed to their right. On their left, a chain-link fence separated them from a steep drop to the ocean.

  His gaze strayed repeatedly to the building as they passed. It’d be prime location for more snipers, if the guys they were after felt so inclined.

  Yet no bullets flew at them.

  So maybe the bad guys hadn’t seen this raid coming.

  “Alpha team, hold your positions.” Sampson’s voice came through his earpiece as they reached the corner of the building. “Beta, Charlie, Delta, let us know when you arrive.”

  “ETA thirty seconds.” A male voice, that sounded like the dude leading team Delta, responded.

  “Enemy is heading for the exit. I count about thirty hostiles. All armed.” Sampson’s words were muted to avoid drawing attention.

  Up ahead, the building beside them ended. In front of him another building, this one in even worse repair, rose like a silent gray monster.

  The group ahead of him slowed, then stopped.

  “In position.” Delta leader’s voice hissed through the earpiece. “Looks like they’re heading up the hill.”

  “Go in hot. On three, two…”

  At one, a series of explosions rocked the area.

  The group surged forward. Shouted commands echoed off the buildings around them.

  A machine gun went off in front of them, followed by two more.

  Several loud cracks rose above the rat-a-tat-tat of machine gun fire. The automatic weapons went silent.

  Smoke and dust created a dangerous haze in the area, one that prevented Zander from having a clear visual of what was going down.

  The building rose from the cloud. With its windows busted out and the door gone, it looked like an apparition watching the scene with soulless eyes, mouth open to consume all who got too close.

  A shudder raced down his body.

  “Hostiles retreating!” Sampson’s voice told him what he couldn’t yet clearly see. “Team Alpha, box them in!”

  Cries of “Get down!” and “Drop it!” filled the air.

  The wind drove the smoke away and Zander saw several figures lift their hands and slowly lower themselves to the ground.

  A few more gunshots sounded.

  More of the smoke cleared, revealing dozens of men in camo. Most were in the process of lowering themselves to the ground. Several were already face down in the dust, fingers interlaced behind their heads.

  “Stop right there!” The command echoed off the building.

  Rapid succession gunfire responded, followed by two loud cracks from the SWAT snipers on the roof.

  Zander saw a man in camo collapse.

  “Situation contained. Move in.” Sampson’s words registered in his brain.

  Contained.

  They’d won.

  This battle, anyway. No telling how many more battles they had yet to face.

  As much as he wanted to claim victory, something told him the war wasn’t over.

  Sixteen

  It was all falling apart!

  Taking down the few men Bruce had placed in the tunnel had been easy. She’d thought they were in the clear.

  Until she heard the flash grenades and police ordering her men to surrender.

  Oksana raced back down the tunnel, glad that she’d stopped to give final instructions to the four men she’d left in the storeroom. If she hadn’t been delayed, she would’ve been with the rest of her crew and would now be in custody.

  Or dead. With the amount of gunfire she’d heard above, it was unlikely all her men had survived.

  She pushed through the steel door and bolted it closed behind her. It surely wouldn’t stop the SWAT team that was likely descending into the tunnel, but it would slow them down. A little, at least.

  How had it come to this? After all her careful planning, how could things go so badly?

  She’d been sloppy.

  That had to be it. She hadn’t planned for every contingency and now she was paying the price.

  But how was she to know that a prison work detail would be here today?

  She looked at the crates as she hurried by them.

  So much merchandise. Lost forever.

  The amount of money she could’ve gotten from all this was not something she wanted to contemplate.

  The only silver lining was that she was pretty sure Bruce and his team had been arrested.

  But so had her crew. Including Viktor.

  The thought soured her stomach.

  She hadn’t just failed her crew, she’d failed family.

  If she could escape, she might be able to figure out a way to get Viktor out of prison.

  But first she had to get away.

  A bang sounded from the door behind her.

  She bit back a curse.

  It had to be the cops. They’d gotten down that tunnel a lot faster than she’d expected.

  There was no time to come up with a plan. She’d have to wing it.

  Could she convince those men outside that she was a victim here? Maybe she could pretend to be one of those taggers Viktor had led onto the island.

  It was her only chance.

  She ripped out her earwig and tossed it on top of the crates as she hurried past.

  Her men and the inmates all looked at her as she burst out from behind the crates and she worked up the self-assuredness they’d expect from her. “If that’s not our crew, take them down. I’m going to check on the tunnel.”

  She strode for the tunnel. As soon as she was out of her men’s line of site, she tossed her gun in a dark corner.

  The bend in the tunnel was ahead. If her men had followed her instructions, two of them would be posted there, ready to take down anyone who entered.

  They glanced her way as she approached.

  “Hold your positions. I’m going to take a closer look outside.”

  Neither questioned her.

  Naturally. If there was one thing her crew knew not to do, it was question her commands. Such a move never ended well for the one asking the questions.

  The ocean wind whipped her clothing as she rounded the corner.

  Ripping the hair bands out of her hair, she let her shoulder length hair fall out of the bun, then raked her fingers through it to tousle it.

  She pulled her knife out of the sheath and sliced her arm.

  Tears pricked her eyes at the pain and she let them come. They’d make her more believable.

  Next, she removed the sheath from her th
igh, hiked up her pant leg, and strapped it to her calf.

  The blood from the cut on her arm dripped to the rocky ground beneath her. She smeared some of the blood across her cheek and down her neck.

  There. Now she should look sufficiently victimized.

  Hopefully enough to fool men who would see her pretty face and not know about the steel running through her veins.

  At least she’d worn black, rather than camo like most of her men. The camo would have been a dead giveaway.

  Of course, if Bruce and his men were out there, they’d surely give her up, but she had little other choice. Staying in here would guarantee her arrest.

  She ran for the entrance, exaggerating her breathing to sound like she’d been crying.

  The sunlight blinded her as she broke free from the cave.

  “Hands up! Don’t move!”

  The command, issued in a deep male voice, came from her left.

  She threw her hands in the air and turned toward it.

  “Don’t shoot!” She worked up a sob. “Please! I didn’t do anything! I was here with friends and these men came with guns…!”

  Her eyes adjusted to the light and she two men, both wearing blue US Marshals’ jackets, watching her.

  Her breath hitched. “I just want to go home!”

  Neither Marshal flinched. “Why were you and your friends here?”

  “We-we were just messing around. Honest! We didn’t mean any trouble.” She blinked rapidly, sending tears streaking down her cheeks. “We’re artists. Not criminals.”

  The older Marshal, who seemed to be in charge, lowered his weapon a few inches. “Your friends are on one of our boats. Deputy Mason will escort you.”

  The other man, who outweighed her by a good hundred pounds, stepped forward. “This way.”

  She moved on ahead of him as indicated, sniffling and wiping at her eyes to keep up the charade.

  Not ideal. She’d really hoped they’d wave her on so she could find a place to lay low.

  Well, she could take this guy.

  Once no one else was around, she’d put him down.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Man, this was a major bust.

  Zander slipped another zip-tie handcuff onto yet another man in camo and wiped his forehead.

  To think he and Morgan had just been coming out here to look for evidence. Now, they were part of a huge inter-agency takedown.