by Scott Blade
“Grab her by the hair. Make her cooperative.”
Without a thought, Ethans snatched Dorothy by a handful of hair and slammed her face into the back of the passenger seat.
She cried out and grabbed at her nose and face.
Nothing was broken. Nothing was bleeding, but her face hurt. She was dazed.
“Why?” she called out .
Lareno asked, “Who the hell is that?”
“Who’s who?”
“Ethans, again!”
Ethans slammed her head into the back of the seat. This time, her nose ran blood.
“Her nose broken?” Lareno asked.
Ethans jerked her head back and examined her nose.
“No. She’s just old.”
“Make me ask again, and he’ll break it. Then we’ll break more.”
“Who is that? Why do you keep staring at that Jeep?”
Dorothy pinched at her nose, held her head back. It ached badly. She thought about her sons. Then about Bill and then about her nose.
She said, “That’s Jack Widow.”
“Who the hell is Jack Widow?”
“He’s nobody. Just a guy we met yesterday.”
And then she explained the situation, explained that Widow was stopping by, explained his helping her and Bill with boxes.
At the end of it, Lareno turned and followed the Jeep.
Ethans asked, “What are you doing?”
“We have to check them out.”
“What for?”
“This Jack Widow saw the truck yesterday.”
Chapter 27
W HERE ARE WE GOING TO GET A GUN at a gas station? Harvard asked.
“I’ll show you when we get there.”
They continued back the way Widow had come when Wagner drove him in the day before. Same streets. Some stop signs. Same stores. All of it in reverse.
Harvard was quiet for a short time.
Widow watched the road ahead. He glanced over and saw that shady-looking motel row. Saw where the itinerate lumberjacks had stayed. Probably some hunters too.
The lots were empty. People were off at work, he figured.
Then he noticed that Harvard was spending more time staring in the rearview mirror than the road ahead.
“What is it?”
“That truck back there. It doesn’t look like it’s following us.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“It’s not looking like it was following us for a few turns already. ”
Widow looked in the side mirror. He saw it, faint, a little far back, but closer than it appeared.
He took a quick look back over his shoulder, and he about-faced back to the front.
“What is it?”
“I know that truck.”
“Who is it?”
“It belongs to an old couple. They run a store in town.”
“Know why they’re making such a big deal about not following us?”
“No idea. It’s a small town. Maybe they’re going to get gas.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t think so?”
“I think there’s one basic cop in town and he’s a fool. I think they know that and so far, they’ve followed the traffic rules, including following distance like they’re on a driving test and the tester is sitting in the car with them.”
Widow was quiet.
“What do I do?”
“Keep going. The gas station is up there. We’ll see what they do.”
She said nothing and pulled off onto one of the service drives. An enormous truck loaded with fresh-cut timber on the back passed them by.
It shook the Jeep.
Harvard pulled into the further station to see if the old people would follow and they did.
She pulled up to the back of the station and hit the brake .
“What now?”
“They’re still with us,” Widow said out loud, but really to himself.
“Yeah.”
He looked around through the windshield to the back of the gas station.
“What are we doing, Widow?”
“I planned to commandeer a firearm.”
“From where?”
He pointed to the rows of parked trucks.
“There’s bound to be one in the back of every one of those cabs.”
“You’re going to steal one?”
“I was. Desperate times and all.”
“What about now? We still need a gun for you.”
“Hold on a minute.”
He watched the old, green truck in the mirror.
“There are three people in there.”
“So?”
“Well, there was an old couple and two sons.”
“Maybe one of the sons is riding with the couple?”
“No way. They were hog riders.”
She stared at him.
“They rode hogs. Harleys. They didn’t strike me as the type to ride in the back of their parents’ truck. Plus, one’s missing.”
“So now what?”
“Pull to the back of the trucks, like I’m still going to rob one.”
“Are you?”
“Don’t think I’ll need to. Not now. ”
Harvard did as she was told.
She drove the Jeep forward, and around a large tree growing out of a grassy median. Then she vanished behind the trucks.
The old green truck followed.
◆◆◆
A T THE BACK of the parked trucks, Harvard parked quickly and killed the engine, took the key out, and they both hopped out, fast. They shut the doors behind them.
Widow went left, and Harvard went right.
He ran and slammed his back behind the huge tire of a parked rig. The engine in the truck hummed behind him.
Widow bent down and watched the old, green truck’s tires under the trailer.
The old truck pulled up behind the Jeep and stopped and parked. He heard the parking brake. He glanced over in the direction that Harvard had run. He saw her shoes under the trailer of another truck.
She had the Glock, but still, whatever this was, he didn’t want it to get to her.
Widow watched and waited.
He watched for a long moment as the truck just sat there.
Finally, the doors opened, and he saw a pair of enormous boots step out of the driver’s side and then he saw a woman’s feet and legs out of the passenger side, rear, followed by another massive pair of men’s boots .
The woman was Dorothy, he figured.
Right then he knew something was wrong because she was being shoved out in front of the men. The one manhandled her so much that she barely took any steps on her own. It was like watching two large men walk around with a ragdoll.
Widow heard her crying and whimpering.
The three of them stepped out and stopped flat in front of the truck.
That’s when things changed for the worse.
One of the men called out.
“Jack Widow! Come on out! We know you’re here!”
Chapter 28
“W IDOW, I SAID come on out! If you don’t come out, I’ll gut this bitch right here!”
Widow stayed quiet.
“Tell him!” the voice said.
Dorothy spoke.
“Jack!” She called out. “Jack! They killed my boys!”
“Tell him!” the voice shouted again.
Widow heard the low rumbling of the truck engines around him.
“They’re going to kill Bill!”
Widow looked down at his hands. They were powerful, but they were not long-range weapons, and he knew they had to have guns.
Widow stayed quiet.
One second later, he heard Dorothy call out something inaudible like she had been punched in the stomach, which was precisely what had happened.
He saw the bottom half of her legs buckle.
“Okay!” he called out. “I’m coming out!”
Shit, he thought .
Widow stood stra
ight up, tall, and he threw his hands up in the air. He walked around the back of the trailer.
There were two huge guys, both rugged, both dressed like bikers, but cleaner. They had clean skin and groomed beards. But they weren’t wimps. These were professionals from somewhere.
The one who had been driving did all the talking. He was a big, thick guy. He had a sawed-off shotgun in one hand, hanging loose, pointed at the concrete.
“You’re Jack Widow?”
“That’s right.”
“Dorothy tells us that you stopped to help her yesterday like a Good Samaritan.”
Widow stayed quiet.
The other guy held Dorothy’s wrist in one hand and an M9 Beretta in the other. He stood on Dorothy’s side, not behind her. He wasn’t using her as a human shield. Which would’ve been a grave mistake, if Widow had a gun.
“Do you talk, Samaritan?”
“I talk.”
“Good. That’s good,” Lareno said. “Now, where’s your friend?”
“I ain’t got no friends.”
Lareno looked away, tracked his eyes over the parked trailers.
“Where is your friend? Next time you lie, I’m going to shot her in the kneecaps.”
Widow didn’t move. Didn’t look around .
He said, “She took off. Probably in the gas station calling the cops. Surely, they’ll be here soon.”
“What cops?”
Widow glanced at the other one, recording his position, working out scenarios in his head.
“The cops are dead.”
“You’re the ones who killed them?”
“You knew they were dead?”
“Bridges made a phone call while you shot her. She left a recording on a machine.”
Lareno shrugged.
“That doesn’t matter. True or not. None of this will matter in…”
Lareno looked at his watch. His mouth moved like he was doing quick math.
“Shit, nothing will matter in forty-five minutes.”
“What happens in forty-five minutes?”
Lareno grinned and said, “Your worst nightmare. Not that you’ll live to see it.”
“So tell me. What are you planning?”
“No. I don’t think I will. I think we’ll blow your head off now.”
Lareno raised the sawed-off and aimed at Widow.
He was at a distance of about fifteen feet, maybe closer to twelve than fifteen. A sawed-off could blow his head clean off, but at that distance, it’d more likely blow his head off, with his neck, and part of his chest.
Lareno put his finger on the trigger, began to squeeze .
Widow took a deep breath, maybe his last.
Chapter 29
A FTER HIS NEAR LAST BREATH, Widow called out in what sounded like desperation.
“Wait! Wait! I got a question.”
“What?”
“Did you kill Jackson Harvard?”
Lareno asked, “Who?”
“The missileer.”
Lareno paused, took his finger pressure off the trigger and pulled the sawed-off just a little.
“What are you talking about? What missileer?”
“Harvard. Jackson. He’s an Air Force captain. Did you kill him? At the cabin?”
“What do you know about him?”
They didn’t kill him, Widow thought.
Harvard was still alive.
“Hey! What do you know of him?” Lareno shouted.
“Take me to your boss, and I’ll tell you.”
Lareno looked at Ethans who shrugged. Then he looked back at Widow.
“No. I don’t think we’ll do that. You don’t know shit. ”
Lareno raised the sawed-off again, aimed at Widow again, and squeezed the trigger.
Before he could squeeze it all the way, Harvard fired her Glock from the corner of a trailer to Widow’s left, about twenty-five feet away.
Out of caution, Widow took a quick glance at her, which normally he wouldn’t, but he was concerned about her pregnancy. She was well-trained. He could see that the only parts of her that she left exposed were her arms, hands, and the Glock 17. The rest of her was hidden behind the trailer’s edge.
Harvard fired several rounds, all aimed at Lareno.
Widow turned back and leaped to his feet and ran full sprint at Ethans and Dorothy.
He watched as Lareno’s chest and face exploded into a bloody mess of red mist and splattering flesh. The sawed-off was flung from his hand and bounced off the ground. He never fired it.
Ethans looked at the source of the Glock fire. He didn’t budge or run. Instead, he jerked Dorothy toward him. It turned out he was thinking about using her as cover, which was a good instinct on his part. Dorothy was a good human shield. She could take bullets for him while being easily manageable and light enough to jerk around as he needed.
The mistake was that a lot of people couldn’t chew bubblegum and walk at the same time and he was one of these people .
Ethans pulled Dorothy out in front of him, but the time he spent doing that cut right into his return fire time.
He raised his M9 and started aiming at Harvard, but by the time he was staring at her down the sights of the M9, Widow was on top of them both.
Only thinking about saving Harvard, and minimizing the damage done to Dorothy, Widow didn’t stop. He ran at Ethans and Dorothy full steam.
The moment before his massive bulk arrived at them; he exploded upward like a power forward at tackle.
He knocked both Ethans and Dorothy off their feet.
She screamed out but rolled over and off Ethans, out of his reach.
Widow was still on his feet.
Ethans rolled away but came up with the M9. He fired it once, but Widow swatted it down and away. Then he came in with a fast right jab, palm wide open; he nailed Ethans right in the neck.
It was hard enough to kill the guy, but it didn’t. Ethans managed to tuck his chin down. It absorbed some of the impact.
He came back at Widow with the M9. He managed to swipe it down and then use the momentum of being hit in the chin to bounce back and swipe the gun up. He fired again, missing inches from Widow’s stomach.
Widow clamped down on the M9, hard, and jerked it forward, taking it out of Ethans’ hand. He lifted his right foot and stomped it down as hard as he could. He heard the bones in Ethans’ kneecaps bust wide open.
Widow didn’t stop there. Instinct. He twisted back and shot the guy in the chest. Once! Twice! Three times!
And once more straight in Ethans’ forehead. Blood and brains and lungs exploded out the back of him.
Ethans fell to the ground in the parking lot and was dead.
He stood over the guy for a quick second. To Harvard, it looked like Widow was thinking of taking a trophy from his kill, like Predator from that eighties movie.
Then he turned quickly and walked over to Lareno, who lay on the concrete.
Widow stared down at him, and Lareno stared back at Widow, only with lifeless eyes. He was dead too.
Widow looked at Dorothy, who was sprawled out on the ground.
He tucked the M9 into the waistband of his pants and went over to her.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. But I think my nose is broken.”
Widow helped her to her feet; then he held her face in the palms of his hands and looked her over.
“It is. Want me to set it?”
“No. No. I’d better go to the hospital.”
“Okay. ”
Her face was a mess of tears and blood, but she was alive.
“Thank you, Jack Widow.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
“Bill is still alive.”
“Where?”
“Our house.”
Harvard came over; her Glock was back in her jacket pocket. She and Widow helped Dorothy walk to the truck.
Widow let the tailgate down, and Dorothy sat on it. Her legs dangled off the back. She breathed in and breathed o
ut.
Harvard said, “Take deep breaths.”
She helped her by doing it herself.
“In and out.”
After a few minutes of this, Dorothy told them all of it. The bikers. Her sons. Bill. And how to get to her house.
Widow and Harvard offered to take her to the hospital, but she begged them to try and save Bill. They suggested that they call the deputy out of a sense of civil norms like that’s what normal people do in these situations, but Dorothy shot that suggestion down. She said that Cole was useless.
“Bill can’t wait for the State Police!” she had mentioned. She grabbed Widow by the arm and pulled at his jacket. Blood trickled off her face and out of her nose and onto his jacket.
She reminded him that they killed her sons. Bill was all she had left .
That’s when they heard a siren. Cole was coming. Someone had called him. Probably the attendant had heard gunshots or one of the truckers.
“We have to go,” Harvard said.
Widow nodded, and he hugged Dorothy.
“I promise you. Whoever did this will pay.”
He let her go and walked to the Jeep, but he stopped at Lareno’s dead body. He bent down.
“Widow! Let’s go!” Harvard called from behind the wheel. She cranked the engine and was ready to drive.
Widow scooped up the sawed-off and checked the dead guy’s pockets. He found several shells, loose, and shoveled them into jacket pockets. Then he stood up and stopped and stared at the guy’s face.
“Widow!”
“Hold on! Hey, toss me your phone!”
“Widow! We gotta go!”
“Toss me your phone!”
Harvard reached into her pocket, took out her smartphone and tossed it to him. He caught it, stuffed the sawed-off in his left armpit and clamped it there. Then he took the phone, unlocked it, and touched the camera button. He paused, waited for the screen to upload, and he aimed the camera at the dead guy. Snapped a quick photo of the guy’s face, which wasn’t completely destroyed, but it was better than the other guy .
Next, Widow bent back down and rolled the dead guy over, pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. It was on a chain. He jerked it free.
He stood up, opened the wallet, took out the guy’s ID. It was completely fake but was a better photo than the guy’s bloody face. He snapped a photo of it, then he tossed it onto the dead body and left it. Took Harvard’s phone and hopped in the Jeep.