Patrick pulled a shotgun from beneath his seat and pumped a round into the chamber. He leaned it against his leg, then passed a small revolver to Jodi. “Keep the safety on until I say, okay?”
She nodded, not even bothering to pull her customary face whenever she felt she was being ordered about.
He then gave Ellie a 9mm Smith & Wesson, turned back, rolled down the window and looked out.
Ellie kept her eyes on the mirror. The truck was close enough now that she could see someone sitting alongside the driver holding a rifle. There could have been one or more people in the back seat, but she couldn’t be sure.
“I don’t get where they came from,” Patrick said, pulling his head back inside. “I mean, this is a long straight road, we should have seen them miles ago.”
“Maybe they were hiding behind that last outcrop.”
Jodi was sitting on the back seat, looking nervously from side to side. “Why would they do that? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“Because they were waiting in ambush.”
“They’re not closing on us anymore,” Patrick said.
Ellie saw Jodi’s eyes shine hopefully in the mirror. “That’s good…isn’t it?”
“Probably means the road’s blocked up ahead,” Ellie said. She gestured along the road to where the ground began to slope up again on either side.
To the right of the road, a squat slab of yellow rock sat on the crest of the slope. “They could have a barricade a hundred feet ahead and we wouldn’t see it from here,” Patrick said. He looked back at the pursuing truck. “They’re keeping their distance, though I’m pretty sure they could outpace us if they wanted.”
“Yeah, Schultz wasn’t exactly generous when he chose this car for us.”
“He said he wanted us to look like genuine refugees.”
Ellie was so stressed, her derisive laugh came out like she’d swallowed helium. “Well, he got his wish. Pity we only made it a fourth of the way to LA.”
They were nearly at the crest of the road which was now cutting through the rock on the right-hand side, though to the left the terrain was flat and studded with gorse bushes that sat like rows of green mushrooms into the middle distance.
“There!”
Something moved out from behind the cuesta on their right.
Ahead of them, figures were scurrying like a panicking nest of ants, hauling rusty cars from the side of the road to block the lanes heading west.
“What do we do?” Jodi called
Patrick twisted in his seat. “Keep yourself low. Only fire if they pull alongside us. Got it?”
She nodded and he lifted his shotgun to the rolled-down window. “They’re gaining,” he called, looking along the road. So, their attackers had herded them into this gully and were using the other truck—the one heading along a dirt track at an oblique angle—to cut them off before they got to the barrier.
Ellie saw all this and, in a split second, made her decision. They wanted her to slow down and, in fact, she’d automatically touched the brakes when she’d seen the makeshift barricade being rolled into place.
They wanted her to slow down, so she put her foot on the gas.
“Ellie!” Patrick cried as he was flung back inside the car by the sudden acceleration. “What are you doing?”
“Hold on to your hat, Pat,” she said.
Jodi flung herself down as the rear windshield shattered, sending chunks of toughened glass over the back seat.
“I think they’ve noticed, dear,” Patrick said, gripping the door pillar as he reversed himself so he was facing down the car, shotgun out the window. Having jammed himself with his back to the dashboard and his feet pushing into the back of his seat, he leaned out of the window, took aim and pulled the trigger.
Then he flicked the safety and pulled again.
The truck behind swerved to the left, moving out of Patrick’s line of sight, but Jodi popped up on the back seat. “Can I take off the safety, Uncle Pat?”
“Don’t take the p—”
The car swerved as Jodi took aim, sending her across the back seat again, and the pursuing truck came into view again. Patrick shot, his shell hitting the windshield and taking one half out. The truck immediately slowed and Patrick turned to the front just in time to see the car heading for the crash barrier.
“Brace yourself!” Ellie called out as the truck hit the metal, glancing off it as the barrier got closer and closer. Ellie wrestled with the steering, cursing her own stupidity. Crash barriers, after all, were designed to handle traffic accidents.
Then with a percussive thump, something bounced off the hood and took out the sideview mirror. The second vehicle was coming in from the right, so Patrick pushed his shotgun out of the window and returned fire as Jodi climbed back up from the footwell and took aim.
Ellie imagined the air full of rounds fizzing past them. One, it seemed to her, passed through Patrick’s open window and out through hers.
Then bang. The second vehicle veered off, its tire ripping to shreds. “Good shot, Jodi!”
So, that left only those bandits at the makeshift barricade. It was now only fifty feet away, and as she’d shown no signs of slowing down, the bandits were now taking cover.
She yanked on the wheel and the truck lurched right, passing along the front of the barrier, within only a few feet as the tires squealed, their noise mixing with the yells of Jodi and Patrick. They would have been sitting ducks if the bandits hadn’t been running for their lives.
Then, with a final metallic thunk, the back corner of the truck caught the last car in the rusting barricade and they were out and onto the shrubby gray and yellow soil, heading in a wide arc as, after a few seconds, shots rang out behind them. Ellie’s bones felt as though they would shake out of her body until, finally, she brought the truck back to the road and wove from side to side until they were out of range.
Finally, the echoes of the last of the pot shots disappeared in the wind and Ellie wound up her window, took her foot off the gas and steadied the car.
“You okay?” Patrick asked.
Ellie nodded, and he swung around to look in the back seat. “Jode?”
There was no response and Ellie was about to pull the truck onto the side of the road, when finally the girl spoke.
“Yeah. I…I guess so.”
Patrick leaned over his seat and put one arm around her. “You’re bleeding,”
“Only a bit. Only a bit,” she said, as she began clearing shattered glass from the back seat before collapsing into a corner.
Patrick sat down and put his hand on Ellie’s arm. “You’re shaking. Why don’t you pull over?”
“Not yet. A few miles farther. Don’t want them following us.”
Patrick smiled. “I reckon they’ll wait for easier prey. Well done, love. Well done.”
#
“That’s a big butte,” Patrick said, as they leaned against the truck eating the peanut butter sandwiches he’d made that morning before they’d set off.
Jodi burst out with adrenaline-fueled laughter.
“You’re so funny,” Ellie said as she looked at the sandwich shaking in her hand. “But it’s pronounced ‘bute. ’”
They’d pulled onto the side of a long straight stretch of the highway that gave them good views in all directions. A few miles to the south was the butte Patrick had pointed out, its flat top coated in what was either unseasonal snow or an equally unseasonal deep frost.
Ellie felt Patrick wrap warm hands around hers. “It’s just the excitement making its way out of your body. Completely normal.”
“Yeah, because everything’s been perfectly normal, hasn’t it?” she snapped. Then thought better of it. “Sorry.”
“You know what these sandwiches need?” Jodi asked.
“Don’t say it.”
“Jelly.”
“You Americans are Philistines. And it’s jam. Jelly is a wobbly dessert.”
Jodi sniggered as she finished her meal
and reached over for the flask. “Anyone else want some coffee?”
“Not me,” Ellie said. “Maybe when I get an adrenaline rebound. But what do we do now?”
“Well, we can’t stop here,” Patrick said.
Ellie could see he was trying to divine her meaning, but she wasn’t about to let him off the hook. “Idiot! I mean what do we do to stay safe? There are plenty of places we could be ambushed along the way. We might not get lucky next time.”
“We could take the back roads.”
Jodi handed Patrick a plastic mug of steaming coffee. “Wouldn’t there be more places to ambush people on smaller roads?”
“Yeah, but less chance that anyone would try it. Much better to set up on the highway where there’s more traffic,” Ellie said.
Patrick nodded. “It’s a case of swings and roundabouts. But, given that we’ve already been ambushed on the highway, we’d be pretty stupid to carry on. I vote the back roads. It’ll take us much longer to get there, but at least we will get there. Probably.”
Ten minutes later, Patrick was behind the wheel and Ellie next to him. They’d cleared out the glass, but they had nothing to cover the window with, so they had all put their warmest clothes on. Ellie could tell that Patrick’s vanity was causing him stress as he pulled on a hunter’s hat, trying not to look in the rearview mirror.
“Let’s go, Elmer,” she said, unable to resist. “Head past the big butte.”
Chapter 11
Warren
“You have wife?”
Bobby woke up with a snort and splutter. “What?”
“You have wife?” Yuri sat beside him in the front of the Humvee. “Is okay, your big boy’s gun is still there.”
Bobby reflexively grabbed the pistol which he’d balanced behind the steering wheel.
“I could have taken it, but how would that help? I would still be Ruski in Yankee country.”
“Thanks. This isn’t Yankee country. And I must have fallen asleep.”
“Ha! You sure did. Now, you have wife or not?”
Shaking his head, Bobby slid the M9 into its holster. “No.”
“Girlfriend?”
“What’s this got to do with anything?”
Yuri smiled. “So, you have girlfriend. Is she pretty?”
“Yes,” Bobby said, seeing Eve’s lovely face, blue eyes and golden hair in his mind’s eye.
“She does not mind snoring, then?”
“What? Oh. I was snoring?”
Yuri nodded gravely. “Like bear.”
“Sorry. Have you slept?”
“No. One of us had to stay awake and my hand hurts too much.”
Bobby leaned over onto the back seat and lifted a canvas pack. “Sorry, I should have given you some more morphine.”
“Niet. I can bear it, and I think we may need to move soon.”
“Why?”
“Your friend, Sergeant Duarte, he would be back now. If he was coming back.”
Bobby squinted out the front window. “Jeez, what time is it?” he asked as he looked at his watch.
“Sun is coming up. He is not coming back. We should go.”
“No,” Bobby said, pushing the door open and stepping out. “Good grief, it’s cold!”
He stood in the silence, feeling the dry desert air kissing his cheek where he’d been lying against the window. What sort of a soldier was he? The sort who falls asleep with a pistol in easy reach of the man he’s supposed to be guarding. To be fair to himself, he’d had next to no military training since going to work for Earl in the machine shop, but if you wear the uniform, you should act as though it fits. He was pretty sure his father had said that once.
What now? Duarte’s instructions had been clear enough. He should be getting onto the highway and heading north by now. Yuri’s intelligence was more important than anything—even Warren Duarte.
But Bobby couldn’t leave him.
He walked around to the other door of the Humvee and opened it. “You go after him.” Yuri said. It was a statement, not a question.
“Yeah.”
“I am sorry. I cannot come. My legs.”
Bobby slapped him on the shoulder. “I know. You okay here?”
The Russian smiled. “Da. I promise not to drive off.”
Shutting the door again, Bobby trotted into the pre-dawn darkness, wondering whether he’d just made a huge mistake.
#
Bobby winced as his boots crunched on the gritty, compacted soil in front of the gate to the solar farm. He crouched as low as his back would allow and tried to reconstruct the route Duarte took in the Humvee. It took only moments to realize that he would quickly become hopelessly lost, so he got down on his knees and tried to discern the lay of the land from the silhouettes of the solar panels against the first traces of light on the horizon.
There. The faintest hint of smoke rising from where he’d guessed the capsule was. He jogged along, pistol in hand, ears straining for any noise above the regular thump of his feet. Where would Carl have been when he betrayed the others? No, that wasn’t his mission. He was here for Duarte.
He jogged from one block of solar panels to the next, waiting and listening between each.
In the end, he almost ran into them. As he crossed between two blocks, he caught movement to one side, but as he turned his head, his boot fell into a small hole and he plunged forward just as two dark figures walked by, rifles slung across their shoulders.
One of the guards looked his way, eyes passing through the dark air just above where Bobby lay. His own clumsiness had saved him, for the time being, and as soon as they passed, he got onto his hands and knees and crept beneath one of the upturned panels. He listened as the footsteps of the guards moved away, then crawled from panel to panel, ears straining for any sign of others.
Then he heard it. People. He was now at the end of a row, looking out at an intersection formed where four blocks came together. A group of perhaps half a dozen figures sat with their backs to the panels, rifles propped casually beside them, talking quietly. And then, with a stabbing shock, Bobby saw the shape slumped beside them.
Duarte.
He was alive, but in the gloom, Bobby could make out the dark marks of blood and bruises across his face as he lay unconscious, his arms bound in front of him.
Bobby cursed at his own stupidity. If he’d done as he was told, he’d be on the road heading north with Yuri. He’d have wondered what had happened to Duarte—he’d have felt guilty—but he wouldn’t have been faced with deciding what to do. Did he risk his own discovery and, by extension, Yuri’s in a rescue attempt that was almost certain to fail? No, that would be illogical and futile. And yet his friend needed him.
Then he heard the squawk of a radio and the legs of a man he hadn’t even noticed walked between him and Duarte, blocking his view. The man was clearly listening on a handset because Bobby could only hear his replies.
“Alpha-one Romeo, receiving.”
Bobby held his breath as he waited.
“Acknowledged. ETA 15. Landing coordinates confirmed.”
Another long pause.
“Negative. Package acquired, but contents not yet located. Intelligence is proving non-cooperative.”
In that moment, the speaker’s legs parted and Bobby caught a glimpse of Duarte looking up with a grim smile on his face. They’d tried to beat Yuri’s location out of him, and failed. Then Duarte’s gaze drifted down and he saw Bobby. His face twisted in shock and terror, but then he controlled himself before the radio operator noticed. He made the tiniest movement of his head and Bobby understood instantly.
Duarte kicked out at the man holding the radio who yelled in pain. The others jumped onto the sergeant as he disappeared under an avalanche of blows.
This was Bobby’s chance. He reversed through the tangle of struts and wires until he was out the other side of the block of solar panels. Then he got to his feet and ran for it as Duarte finally let out a yell of agony.
Bob
by ran, keeping as low as possible, toward the entrance. Light was creeping across the desert and he knew he had only minutes to get away in the Humvee. A helicopter was coming in to take away the capsule and, if found, its occupant. He couldn’t expect Duarte to hold out forever, so the merciful thing to do was to escape as quickly as possible.
He broke from cover and, to his horror, a cry went up from behind him. He could hear many boots in the distance as he abandoned all attempts at concealment and ran for the entrance.
They were gaining on him and he expected, at any moment, to hear the percussive punch of weapons-fire, but he guessed they didn’t dare shoot in case he was the capsule’s occupant. A moment’s thought would have rejected that notion, given that no astronaut could run this fast after six months in space, but fortunately his pursuers weren’t thinking. But they were running. Fast.
He wouldn’t make it to the Humvee! Even if he somehow managed to keep ahead of them, he couldn’t get it started and away before he and Yuri were caught.
His legs were lead by the time he tore through the gate and out onto the road leading to the highway.
“Stop or I fire!” a voice called out. A voice so close it could have been feet away.
He almost collapsed as his lungs felt as though they were incapable of pulling in enough oxygen to keep him alive. And then a dark rectangular shape roared toward him, pivoted, and a smaller, darker shape appeared.
A voice with a Russian accent yelled, “Get in!”
Bobby allowed his momentum to take him inside and threw himself across the passenger seat as Yuri slammed his foot to the floor, and the Humvee lurched away, the door slamming open and shut behind him. Shots rang out, but they went wide in the deep gray of the dawn.
“Onto the highway!” Bobby called out as he twisted around then pulled the door shut. He grabbed to the hand-strap as Yuri wrestled with the steering wheel, then cut across a small strip of scrubland that separated the service road from the interstate. There was barely enough light to see where they were heading, but they didn’t dare switch on the headlights for fear of making a target of themselves.
Almost as soon as they swerved onto the smooth asphalt of I-15, Yuri pulled over. “You…take over,” he said, panting.
Deluge | Book 4 | Ice Page 9