The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set

by Ernest Dempsey

  He remained low and out of sight until he saw the headlights of the Explorer turn on, their beams shining brightly through the lot. The engine roared a second later, followed by tires scratching against the lot, kicking gravel and dust out behind them.

  Tripp wheeled the SUV around, nearly sliding sideways in the process, and steered the vehicle straight at Tanya. All she could do was turn her head into the blinding light of the oncoming threat.

  Seven

  Cuchara

  Tanya cringed as the SUV ground to a halt. Clouds of gravel dust plumed out from the tires and billowed dramatically in front of the headlights. The high beams seared her eyes, and she put up her left hand to shield them from the blinding light. She stepped back, shifting away from the focus of the headlights, and lowered her hand, peering into the cab as the doors slammed shut.

  She swore under her breath. "Tripp, you idiot. What are you doing? You could have hit me."

  Tripp sauntered toward her as the sound of two more doors slamming shut accompanied his approach. His shoulders slumped a little and his legs wobbled. "Idiot? That's not a nice thing to say, Tanya."

  "You're drunk, Tripp. You need to call a cab."

  "I'm not calling anyone. And I'm not drunk." He stepped toward her. Lust oozed from the devil's gaze that filled his eyes. His friends, John and Steve, loomed a few feet away to her left, just out of the headlights' glow, their eyes locked on her.

  "Fine," she said nervously. "Suit yourself. Drive home if you want to, but I don't think your daddy will appreciate that."

  He surged forward in an instant and grabbed her arm. Gripping it tightly, he glowered at her, his eyes rampant with alcohol-fueled desire.

  "Let me go, Tripp," Tanya demanded. There was no hiding the fear in her voice. "You're hurting me."

  "You should have been nicer to me," he said, spittle flying with each word. "But no worries. I always get what I want in the end."

  He grabbed her other arm even as she tried to wrestle free. His grip was too strong and she couldn't get loose, so she did the only thing she knew how to do. Tanya kicked as hard as she could with her knee, driving it deep into his groin.

  Tripp's eyes bulged, and he doubled over, groaning in agony. His fingers let go of her arms and went to his wounded area as he dropped to his knees.

  He let out a string of obscenities. More than a few of the adjectives described her in a less than complimentary way.

  Tanya turned and started to run toward her truck.

  "Get her," Tripp ordered, his voice still lathered in nauseating pain.

  His cronies jumped at the command and took off after her. Tanya barely reached the truck in time. She fumbled with the keys in her panic, seeming to take minutes to get the one to her vehicle. As she inserted the correct key into the door, she felt four hands grab her by the shoulders and arms.

  "Where you think you're going?" Steve said, his thick digits digging deep into her skin.

  "No!" Tanya shrieked. "Let me go! Stop it!"

  Tripp had recovered—mostly—and made his way toward her as his friends held her on both sides. She struggled as best she could, like a wild animal wriggling and jerking around to get free. Tripp was still hunched over as he stalked toward her, one hand over his groin, signaling the pain was still racking him.

  He stopped a few feet short of her and shook his head, looking into her eyes with disgust. "That was stupid," he said. He slapped her across the face with the back of his hand.

  The cheek reddened almost instantly, though barely noticeable in the dimly lit parking lot.

  "I was going to let you know what it felt like to be with a real man. You would have liked it. But now?" He shook his head. "Now I'm going to make sure you don't."

  "No," she said, pleading with her eyes. "Tripp, don't do this. You're drunk. You can't do this."

  "I can," he said. "My dad is the sheriff. I can do whatever I want."

  Her head twisted back and forth. "No. Please."

  "That's good," he said. "Keep begging. That'll make it even more fun." He looked at John. "Open up the back of her truck."

  "No!" she shouted. "Please, someone! Help me!"

  John took the keys out of the door where they still hung and walked around to the back of the SUV.

  "You can't do this," Tanya went on. "I will press charges, Tripp. I'll tell everyone about this."

  He shuffled closer as she struggled against Steve's strong grip. He reached up with a finger and touched her chin. She snapped her head away, unwilling to look into his eyes another second.

  "Well, I guess it would be your word against ours now, wouldn't it? I mean, me and the boys left the bar a long time ago. Everyone saw that. After we took off, we decided to head over to Tyler's place and hang out. I'm sure Tyler will vouch for that."

  "No," she tried to deny it. "You can't get away with this."

  He ignored her. "I'm sure you'd try to tell someone what happened. So I guess we're just going to have to make sure that doesn't happen. Will be easier for all of us if you're dead."

  Her head whipped around again at the new threat and she met his eyes. "Tripp, please. Don't. Don't."

  "Oh, I'm still going to have my fun with you. All of us will. Right, boys?" He cast the words over her shoulder.

  The other two snickered amid a series of oh, yeahs.

  John opened the back of the SUV and stepped back into view.

  "Take her around to the back," Tripp said, noting the scene of the crime was ready.

  "Hey!" a new voice cut in.

  Tripp spun around and saw the drunk from before. The man was around six feet tall, give or take. He staggered through the explorer's headlight beams in a serpentine fashion, zigzagging his way across the parking lot.

  "Can you morons keep it down over there?" the man slurred. "I'm trying to get some sleep."

  He stopped fifteen feet away, his body tilting to the left. Then the man felt his balance waning and over corrected, suddenly shifting to the right in a dramatic show of intoxication.

  "This is none of your concern, stranger," Tripp said. The pain in his groin had finally subsided, eased by the work of gravity. "Go on back to your truck and sleep it off."

  "That's what I'm sayin'," the stranger said, throwing his hands up in the air as if a long-made point was finally understood. "I musta had ten or fourteen beers and you are in no condition to drive me home."

  Tripp's eyebrows lowered at the man's nonsensical comment. He'd had a few drinks, but he was far from blown out the way this guy was.

  "Look, stranger," Tripp continued, "we don't want any trouble. So, just stumble back over to your vehicle and close your eyes. We'll be leaving here soon enough."

  Dak's upper body wobbled in orbit over his waist. He shuffled forward, closing the gap between him and Tripp by another six feet before stopping and nearly tipping over onto his face.

  "Trouble? Am I in trouble? You guys aren't cops, are you?" The slurred words continued, accentuated with peaks and valleys in pitch that continued to drive home the notion he was inebriated beyond comprehension.

  Tripp snorted and looked back at Steve, who continued to hold the struggling woman.

  "Yeah, that's it, buddy. We're cops. And this woman is under arrest."

  "They're not cops!" Tanya shouted. "My husband is a county deputy. Please, sir, call the police. Don't let them do this!"

  Dak stumbled another five feet forward, teetering on the edge of falling flat on his face or tipping over backward.

  He leaned forward, eyelids narrowed to slits as he peered into Tripp's face. "Listen, occifer," he spat, body still wavering. "I need to report a crime."

  Tripp almost couldn't keep himself from laughing, briefly forgetting about his wicked intentions.

  "Tell you what," Tripp offered, "go back over to your vehicle and rest for a bit. When we're done with her, I'll make sure to take care of you."

  "You promise?" Dak blathered.

  "Definitely. We'll handle it as soon as we're
done with her."

  Dak rocked back onto his heels. He hiccupped once and nodded. "All right, then. Just hurry up, would you? I really need to get some sleep."

  Tripp nodded. "Yeah, you go back over there to your truck and do that. We'll wake you up when we're ready to hear your complaint."

  "No!" Tanya yelled. "Don't listen to him!"

  Steve clamped his left hand over her mouth, wrapping his arm around her torso with the right and squeezing hard. She tried to scream, but the muted sounds didn't go far.

  Dak started to turn around, then paused. He scuffed his feet forward again, closing the distance between him and Tripp to less than five feet. "Hey. Isn't that the waitress from the bar?"

  Tripp took a threatening step toward Dak, irritation brimming in his eyes. His face tensed with anger. "Listen, stranger. Don't make me ask you again. You need to go back to your vehicle and mind your business. We'll take care of your problem as soon as we're done with her."

  The sheriff's son didn't realize the danger. He'd stepped well within striking distance, assuming that this drunkard was no threat.

  "What are y'all going to do with her?" Dak asked. He already knew the answer. He'd seen their plan unfolding, heard what they said. They were going to use her for their own perverted needs and then kill her. In his eyes, that meant their lives were forfeit.

  He'd hoped Tanya's husband would show up, or that the bartender or even Merrick would return to collect something they'd forgotten. Not that either of them would be of use. Since he'd been out here, though, Dak hadn't seen a single car go by.

  Sure, he could beat these guys up, hope to teach them a lesson. But they wouldn't learn. Men like this would simply find another target, another woman, or even the same one at a later time. The sheriff wouldn't help with an investigation if charges were pressed. She would be shamed as a liar, and her husband would look even weaker in her eyes.

  Her world would crumble and these scumbags would get to keep on keeping on as if nothing had ever happened. And Tyler would help with the coverup.

  Dak had wanted to be more calculated in drawing out his old Delta Force teammate. Those fanciful plans, however, were tossed by the wayside.

  "You going to have a little fun with her before you arrest her?" Dak asked, his words still slurred, but only slightly.

  "I told you to mind your business, stranger. Don't make me use force."

  Dak looked around, as if searching the parking lot for something. "You know," he said. "I don't see your patrol car around here? You three in unmarked vehicles or something? Is that explorer an undercover thing?"

  Tripp had heard enough. He took one last step toward Dak. Menace flamed in his eyes. "I'm telling you for the last time, stranger. Go back to your vehicle. This is none of your concern."

  Dak's spine stiffened. The wobble vanished and his legs steadied. The distant, glazed look in his eyes disappeared, replaced by fierce and righteous indignation.

  "Unfortunately, Tripp, I'm making it my concern."

  Eight

  Cuchara

  Confusion shone in Tripp's eyes for a second, but only for a second. Dak's fist smashed into his jaw. Tripp's head snapped to the right, and he stumbled backward onto his butt, barely able to catch himself with his hands as he hit the ground.

  Steve still held the struggling woman, but when he saw the stranger hit his friend, his grip loosened. Tanya jerked her elbow back into his gut and felt his arm drop away. The blow wasn't much, but it was enough, and she darted away from him, retreating behind the stranger and pulling her phone out of her pocket.

  "You've made a big mistake, stranger," John said, stalking toward Dak from the shadows behind Tanya's SUV. "You have any idea who you just hit?"

  "A punk who probably wasn't spanked enough by his daddy when he was little," Dak answered.

  "That right?"

  "Seems to be."

  Tripp scrambled to his feet, feeling the wounded jaw with his fingers. He grimaced at the pain throbbing through his face.

  Steve circled around to the left, Tripp to the right, as the towering Collinsworth approached straight ahead.

  "Looks like we have ourselves a hero," Tripp said. His voice tightened with pain. "You're going to pay for that one, Mr. Hero."

  Dak heard Tanya on the phone behind him, telling her husband to get there as fast as he could, rapidly explaining what was happening.

  "You shouldn't have done that," Tripp went on. "We were just having some fun with her."

  "That's not what I heard and saw," Dak countered. "You were going to rape her and then kill her."

  "I guess it's your word against ours, then, Mr. Hero."

  "Yeah, Mr. Hero," Steve prodded. He was the consummate bully sidekick, making up for a lifetime of shortcomings.

  "I'm not a hero, but I've seen your kind before," Dak said, his eyes locked on Tripp, keeping a watch on the other two in his peripheral vision. "You'd throw an innocent life away just so you can get your jollies. You don't know where to draw the line. So, I guess someone's got to draw it for you."

  Tripp shook his head. "I don't think so. And when we're done with you, we'll finish what we started with her sooner or later. You hear me, Tanya? This is not over."

  He and the other two closed in on Dak. Tripp raised his hands in bad boxing form. Dak sensed the other two moving quickly at him from either side, just behind his field of view. It was a typical strategy for people who didn't know much about hand-to-hand combat. The two thugs would try to grab him and hold him so their buddy could pummel away.

  Dak heard the gravel scuff to his side and drop stepped back, bringing both of the assailants into full view. He dropped down nearly to his knee and swept his right leg at the taller of the two. His heel caught John on the shin, hitting it hard enough to hurt, but more importantly, knock the big man off his balance. He stumbled forward and collided with the much shorter guy on the left. The two nearly fell, but Steve managed to catch his partner and steady himself.

  That recovery didn't stop the next attack from coming.

  Dak sprang up once more and lunged forward. Steve saw him coming and shoved John away to brace for what he thought would be a tackling impact.

  Instead, Dak faked to one side and dipped to the other, raised his arm, and clothes lined the shorter man in the nook between his forearm and biceps. The blow crushed Steve's windpipe a split second before he felt his feet lift off the ground. Time seemed to slow as the air beneath him left nothing but wonder as to when he would hit the ground.

  His tailbone struck gravel with a crunch, but his immediate concern went to his closed airway. He grasped at it while John steadied his balance and drew a switchblade from his right pocket.

  The gangly man pressed the button and the sharp point shot out of the handle, the shiny metal glimmering in the residual light of the Explorer's headlights.

  John charged Dak, intent on gutting him like a fish. The man had no real training, that much was evident. He lunged wildly, stabbing straight at Dak's abdomen.

  Dak deftly twisted left, allowing the blade to pass, then grabbed the tall man's forearm, jerked him forward using his own momentum against him. At the last second, Dak twisted the man's wrist upward and plunged the knife through his throat.

  He yanked the bloodstained blade out of the wound just in time to meet another reckless attack from Steve. The grunt rushed at Dak, shoulders squared to tackle him and drive him to the ground.

  Dak ducked and stabbed up into the attacker's chest. The assailant's forward movement dragged the blade through flesh until it sunk deep into his belly. He howled in pain and fell to the ground beside his dead friend.

  Steve curled into a fetal position as blood leaked through his fingers, soaking into the gravel.

  Tripp finally sensed the very real danger and used the only advantage he could. He slipped into the shadows and hurried around behind the fight, slipping up on Tanya who'd been focused on the one-sided battle.

  She was still on the phone with her h
usband when Tripp snaked his arm around her waist and pressed the sharp edge of a hunting knife against her neck. In a second of startled panic, she dropped the phone to the ground and the screen cracked against the gravel.

  Tripp's wide eyes blazed with fury. The fact that one of his friends was dead and the other soon would be hadn't fully set in, but the sight of them on the ground quickly worked to correct that.

  "Johnny?" he said, looking at the long, still form on the ground. "Johnny, you okay?"

  Dak let the bloody switchblade slip down to his fingertips. Pinching the flat sides of the knife, he carefully calculated the distance between him and the man holding the woman hostage.

  "He's dead, Tripp," Dak said, speaking the words as if they held no consequence, the way he would after stepping on an insect. "The other one will be soon."

  Tripp's eyes flashed to Steve who lay curled up, a dark patch of crimson covering the ground under him. His movement had slowed, the severed artery in his gut pumping his life through his fingers.

  "You killed them," Tripp muttered through a flood of confusion and anger. "You murdered them!"

  "You murdered them, Tripp," Dak said. "Your decision to try to rape and then murder this woman to cover it up sentenced them to death."

  Tripp's nostrils flared. His breathing quickened. He swallowed and pressed the edge of the knife against his captive's throat. Andy Eller's voice kept coming through the phone at her feet, just loud enough to hear him attempting to calm the situation down.

  "They were my friends," Tripp said as sobs filled his voice. "And you murdered them in cold blood." The words fluttered through trembling lips.

  "I think you need to reassess what your definition of cold blood means," Dak said. "Now, let her go. Put the knife down."

  Tripp shook his head. "No. That's not how this is going to end, stranger. I'll slit her throat and then I'll kill you."

  Dak's target stood less than twenty feet away.

  "Let her go, Tripp," Dak said. "This ends one of two ways: you in the back of a squad car, or dead here in a bar parking lot with your friends. Choice is yours."