18 From Breckenridge: Love On The Run (18 From Breckenrdige)

by J. P. Castle

Joaquin peeked up through the window. He watched Lumen pick up the weapon and fall as the man latched onto her ankle. She kicked her legs to get away from him, striking him once in the face. The man climbed her body like a ladder. Joaquin leaped from the van and raced to help her. A bullet burnt his arm as he tackled the big brute football style. The man rolled Joaquin to the bottom.

  Lumen wrapped the gun belt around the man’s thick neck and twisted, drawing the marauder’s attention to his throat. The distraction allowed Joaquin time to get up. Joaquin twisted now, using all of his strength to finish the man off. Afterward, he and Lumen crouched in the high weeds surrounding them.

  “Probably won’t get to thank you later cuz we’ll be checked-out, as-in dead, so . . . thanks,” she said.

  “No, we’re gonna make it, both of us. And, your welcome,” said Joaquin out of breath.

  The battle raged on. Ledger yanked open the R.V. door to find Mr. McCrady pointing a gun in his face, “Sorry, Ledger,” he said.

  “Does anyone in here have a gun? Mine’s empty. We’re short on ammo out here,” said Ledger.

  “Here, take mine,” said Caleb, sliding him a pistol.

  Ledger bolted out the door.

  Ginger Halliday approached from behind, “I’m out, I’m empty.”

  “Me too,” yelled Timmy.

  “This is it,” said Rani without Rani embellishments.

  “Naw, naw, this isn’t it,” said Caleb. The only bullets he could hear now were the ones coming from the marauder's weapons.

  Bastian and Ledger were pinned down, along with the rest of the group. Ginger Halliday dogged it to retrieve a gun from a dead guy on the pavement. She threw it up toward Bastian, but the fire being sprayed wouldn’t allow him to get a single shot off.

  “Caleb, what are you doing?!” said Bryce. “Caleb!”

  Caleb paused and took one last look at Bryce, ignoring the gunfire. “I’ll see you soon, doll face,” he said, crawling toward the door.

  Bryce wondered if this would be the last time she’d ever see him again. “Caleb, get back here right now!”

  Caleb eased down the steps of the R.V.

  The group ahead bellowed a message on a loudspeaker. “We’ve got you pinned down. Surrender now, and we might let you live.”

  Bastian found their cheers and jeers annoying. When no one in Bastian’s group came out, the bandits sprayed more fire toward the group.

  Caleb opened the outside storage on the R.V. and pulled out the bazooka case. Intense pain streamed down his ribcage. He loaded a rocket into the black cannon, hoping the button he’d picked out to push was the right one for launch. He slid along the edge toward the front of the bullet-riddled SUV.

  “Caleb, stop! You’re gonna get killed,” said Bastian.

  Caleb prayed. Lord, I know it’s been a while. I’ll try to do better, but I really need this rocket to fly straight right now. My family’s in trouble.

  Everyone outside took note of Caleb, standing in the middle of the road.

  “What’s he doing!?” said Timmy.

  “Hopefully, saving us,” said Ginger Halliday, balling her fists.

  Mr. McCrady, Bryce, Troian, and Rani all raised up their heads for a brief second to witness. The gang fired round after round at Caleb, a sharp burn lit up his arm when a bullet sliced into his flesh. Another tore into the edge of his leg, causing him to fall to his knees.

  He was barely able to hold the heavy artillery, aching from previous injuries, but managed to get it onto his shoulder. Bullets bounced off the pavement all around him. A loud swoosh echoed as the rocket left the cannon, plowing Caleb’s weakened body over backward. He dropped the large weapon to the side and closed his eyes. The entire group held their breath, awaiting the outcome.

  The rocket torpedoed into the center grill of a pickup blocking their way, all four wheels went airborne. A second explosion magnified the first when tanks of stolen gasoline, sitting in the truck beds, ignited. Fire filled the air; bodies flew like matchsticks in every direction. Black smoke rose toward the sky. Bullets no longer careened toward the group.

  Bastian and Ledger raced over to Caleb.

  “Can you hear me?” said Bastian.

  “Is he dead?” said Ledger.

  “CALEB, can you hear me!?” said Bastian.

  Bryce flew from the R.V., dropping down beside him. “I told you not to go.” Tears streamed down her face.

  Caleb’s eyes slowly opened, “Did I get ‘em?” he moaned in a scarcely audible voice.

  “Yeah, you saved us all. You’re nuts,” said Bastian. “Get him in the R.V.”

  THIRSTEN BROOKS

  BRYCE AND GINGER loaded Caleb into the R.V. A little blood dripped from his arm.

  “Not again, not again,” Bryce said, searching him over. She raised Caleb’s arm to determine where the blood oozed from. Lucky for Caleb, the bullet didn’t fully penetrate, going just deep enough to allow the small seepage.

  Bryce clearly saw a hole in his jeans and raised his pant leg. “A flesh wound, Caleb. Enough to require a bandage but no emergent care. It’s a little deeper than the arm, but it’ll heal fast compared to your stomach. You’re one lucky guy.”

  Caleb winked at Bryce, “I am a lucky guy. Lucky to have you to take care of me. Keep this up, and I’ll run into live fire every day,” he said, then laid back on the bed, still in pain from the original bullet wound.

  “It’s Ginger, right?” said Bryce.

  “Yeah,” she answered.

  “Thanks for helping me,” said Bryce.

  “No problem. I’m gonna go back outside.” Ginger joined the others to assess vehicle damage.

  “There’s no front windshield in the SUV or the R.V. Will they even start?” said Bastian.

  Mr. McCrady turned the key over. The R.V. fired up.

  Ledger went to start the SUV but noticed it had three flat tires, along with a busted grill. “This one’s toast,” said Ledger. “Besides the tires, I guarantee the radiator’s got holes in it. She won’t make it long without overheating.”

  Bastian hustled back to the van to find all the windows shot out, but the engine started up. “So much for the church van idea. I’d hoped it would help us blend, but we can’t blend in a shot up van. Take Ezra to the back room with Bryce ‘n Caleb. Keep him out of the wind. We need to go. Load up, everybody. We have to make it through the wreckage up ahead.”

  Bastian threw the bags from the SUV into the luggage area, and hopped in the passenger seat of the R.V. “This is gonna be a cold ride,” he said.

  Mr. McCrady pulled slowly up to the burning heap of twisted metal. “Stop for a sec, Mr. McC. Ledger, come with me. Ginger, you too,” said Bastian. The trio approached the carnage. “Find any guns that aren’t on fire, ammo too. Grab ‘em fast,” he said.

  The three scurried around the burning heap for any spoils of benefit. Ledger found a box of ammo in the ditch and snatched it up. Bastian and Ginger gathered up five guns that weren’t on fire. They climbed back inside to leave. Mr. McCrady scarcely had enough room to squeeze the big R. V. around the enormous mess.

  “If we didn’t stand out before, we seriously stand out now. This is worse than the beast we started out with. Bullet holes are all over the place, windshields are gone. We are red flag ready for pull over. We gotta get new rides somehow. Amir, what’s around Fort Dodge. There is no way we’ll make it through any town in this.

  “Get us at least ten miles up the road. No matter where we go, people will notice the damage, especially the illegal windshield. In ten miles, find someplace to park,” said Bastian. “We’re lucky to be in the country somewhat. I’m not sure how long our luck can hold out. If we meet another mess of people like the ones behind us, we’re done for.”

  Mr. McCrady found an empty parking area just south of Fort Dodge, Iowa. The shot-up pair of vehicles pulled off.

  “Okay, Bastian, here are two addresses for used car lots,” said Amir.

  “Ledger, go get Timmy, Mateo, Joaquin, a
nd Ginger,” said Bastian, getting cash from the cargo hold.

  Bastian counted out the cash, “Joaquin, here’s a hundred thousand bucks, man. Go to these places, do it fast but safe, and do not pull all of that cash out at once.”

  Everyone piled into the R.V., once again, for the long wait.

  JOAQUIN TOOK THE driver’s seat in the shot-up van. Mateo road shotgun while Timmy and Ginger piled into the back after they brushed the broken glass off the leather.

  “We’re about twelve minutes from Fort Dodge,” said Joaquin. “We’ll ditch this ride a short distance away from our first stop. Me ‘n Mateo will go size up the options.”

  Near town, the van began to smoke. “The radiator might’ve taken a bullet in this one, too,” said Mateo.

  “No matter now, we’ve made it close enough. We don’t want to be seen in this thing anyway,” said Joaquin, pulling the van into a parallel space on the side of a wooded park area. A large oak tree offered up plenty of shade, helping to conceal the busted windows and damage.

  Joaquin and Mateo slow jogged to the used car dealership about a half a mile away. The dealer didn’t hesitate to take cash for a ten-year-old SUV sitting on the lot. Joaquin and Mateo swung by to pick up Timmy and Ginger. Ten minutes later, they arrived at the second address Amir had given them.

  The place had several used vehicles of assorted styles. Joaquin picked out a decent minivan and another R.V.

  “That’s quite a purchase for a man of your age,” said the dealer.

  “I’m twenty. Is my cash no good here?” said Joaquin.

  “No, no, your cash is fine. I don’t get many people that pay cash for such large purchases. But these are strange times indeed.”

  Joaquin handed the man forty-five thousand for the vehicles. “Well,” he said, “technically, it’s my dad’s cash. He sent me down here . . . said he was feeling nauseated this morning.”

  “Oh, is he sick?” said the dealer, deciding to hurry the transaction along.

  “I hope not, but everyone is worried about Red Fang right now,” said Joaquin. He coughed once—purposely. “We’re loading up and heading to southern Indiana to be with our family.”

  “Here’s your paperwork. Have a safe trip,” said the dealer, backing away to place his arm over his mouth. He couldn’t get the boys out of his office fast enough.

  Outside, Mateo turned to Joaquin, “Brilliantly played my friend.”

  “Thought so myself,” smirked Joaquin. “Now, follow me.”

  Joaquin waved Timmy to follow and led them to a charge station. With full batteries and plenty of allotment tickets, they made their way back to the rest of the group.

  On the way out of town, Joaquin noticed a man on the side of the road. The man stood there, beneath an overpass, staring straight across the roadway. A dog sat directly beside him.

  Joaquin glanced over, curious to identify what the man looked at so intently. Nothing. About to drive past the man, Joaquin caught a flash of movement from the right. The lone man dropped the leash and stepped into the path of the R.V.

  “LOOK OUT,” said Joaquin, jerking the wheel hard left to avoid colliding with the man, but he didn’t make it fast enough. He locked up the brakes, along with those following behind. One loud thud—the man hurled through the air about twenty feet and landed on the pavement. Joaquin froze, unable to let go of the steering wheel.

  Ginger exited the SUV with great haste, blowing past the R.V. with Timmy in tow. Joaquin leaped from the driver’s seat of the R.V.

  “I didn’t mean to hit him. He stepped right in front of me,” said Joaquin in a quivering voice.

  Ginger reached down to feel the man’s pulse. “I saw what he did. He wanted you to hit him. He’s got a pulse.”

  “What are we gonna do?” said Timmy.

  Three cars passed by before one slowed to ask if they needed any help.

  “No, thanks for asking, but ambulances are already on the way,” responded Ginger. “Load him up in the R.V. We can’t get caught here . . . unless we’re gonna leave him.”

  “Regardless of whether it was his fault or not, I can’t leave a man I hit on the side of the road. Load his crazy ass up,” said Joaquin.

  Joaquin and Timmy carried the unconscious man into the R.V. Mateo took the man’s dog by the leash and put the shaggy brown fellow into the van.

  “We gotta roll,” said Timmy. “I hear sirens for real. Someone called for help.”

  Frightened, they sped off. Ginger rode in the back of the R.V. with the stranger and placed a pillow beneath his head. She didn’t notice any copious amounts of blood pouring from him. In fact, he only had minor abrasions on his right cheek.

  A mile down the road, police, a fire truck, and an ambulance roared by. Joaquin held the wheel steady.

  “What are we gonna do with him?” said Ginger. “If he has injuries, they’re definitely internal, or broken bones . . . maybe it’s a concussion. I’m not sure.”

  “We’ll wait ‘n ask Bastian what to do,” said Joaquin, turning back onto Highway 20.

  Ginger reached into the man’s pocket to retrieve his wallet. She pulled out his driver’s license. Thirsten Brooks, forty-four, Dakota City, Nebraska. Humph, my good sir, what prompted you to step in front of an R.V.? With everything that’s going on, I could almost understand, almost. Hopefully, you’ll get the chance to tell us. Ginger placed the wallet back into Thirsten’s pocket.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Air Assault

  JOAQUIN PULLED UP alongside the bullet-riddled R.V. and honked the horn.

  “Okay, people, let’s make the switch,” said Bastian in a firm tone.

  Everyone transferred luggage and equipment into the new vehicles. Joaquin gave back the excess money to Bastian to stow.

  “Um, we had a little trouble,” said Joaquin.

  “Like what?” said Bastian, narrowing his eyes.

  “There’s a man inside the R.V. on one of the bunks.”

  “Huh?” Bastian peered inside. “Who is that?”

  “A man I hit on our way back here. It’s like he waited for me to get close and then stepped out.”

  “I saw him, Bastian,” said Ginger. “I was behind in the SUV with Timmy, and the man stepped right out in front of Joaquin on purpose. Joaquin smashed the brakes, but still hit the man. It wasn’t Joaquin’s fault. The man’s unconscious but alive. I checked his license. His name is Thirsten Brooks. He’s from a nearby town.”

  “And the dog?” said Bastian.

  “He was with the man. I couldn’t leave him, so I put him in the van, too,” said Mateo.

  “Wow. We don’t have time to sort this out right now. I hope he’s down for a road trip because we have to get west. Amir told me roadblock rules have changed to prevent interstate travel, going into effect soon. No one’s allowed to travel outside of their home state until the virus is under control, or you can prove vaccination. They’re really trying to lock us down.”

  Moments later, the group pulled away from the mangled vehicle. Sighs of relief exited their stressed bodies. They couldn’t get far enough away from the mountain of carnage behind them.

  “There’s so much stacked against us,” said Bastian. “When do we catch a break?”

  “No time soon, it appears. But we can’t stop now, and we can’t give up,” said Ledger.

  HALFWAY THROUGH NEBRASKA, Bastian decided to leave the country roads for the interstate to make better time. Four miles past the city of North Platte, the group encountered a traffic jam. People talked outside of their vehicles—Bastian put his disguise on and rolled down the window.

  “What’s the hold-up?” he said to a gentleman leaning against his car.

  “Agh, the military’s checking I.D.s ahead for some reason,” said the man.

  “What are we gonna do, Bastian?” said Rani, starting to fidget in her seat.

  “We got lucky earlier with the gang of bandits, but there is no way we’re gonna be able to take on a large military convoy,” said
Bastian.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror. Cars stacked up behind them. The big R.V. didn’t have enough room to turn around and go back the way they’d come.

  They inched toward the checkpoint little by little. Plenty of armed soldiers approached both sides of every vehicle. One soldier seized a teenage boy with dark curly hair from a tan-colored sedan for no apparent reason; the boy’s parents flared up in protest.

  “What are you doing to our son? He’s done nothing. We aren’t infected,” said his mother.

  The soldier swabbed the boy’s mouth and placed the specimen into the instant DNA scanner. “It’s not him,” he said. “Return to your vehicle.”

  “They’re searching for us,” said Bastian. “Fake I.D.s aren’t gonna save us right now. Not with that DNA scanner.”

  “I’ve got my gun ready,” said Ledger.

  “Don’t pull it out. There’s too many,” said Bastian, trying in vain to devise a plan.

  “Should we run?” said Rani. “On foot . . .”

  “No, they’ll see us. We’re too close to the checkpoint for that. Besides, it’s wide open out there, no cover, welcome to Nebraska,” said Bastian.

  Bastian’s vehicle sat twenty deep in the slow-moving line. “Girard may have us this time,” he said.

  Troian nervously bit her lower lip. Her wrist-unit vibrated. “Hello. It’s my brother. I can’t talk right now, I’m . . .”

  “Troian, stop, listen to me. Can you turn around?”

  “No, we’re trapped. How did you . . .”

  “Tell the people you’re with to get ready to blow through this checkpoint. It’s there to catch you guys specifically. I’m on my way right now to provide a distraction. Me ‘n some of my men received confirmation, Girard wants to kill all of you by any means possible. He doesn’t care about casualties getting lost along the way.”

  Tony continued, “We’re aware of the fake vaccine; none of my men agree with it. Girard’s Intel found a link between me ‘n you through the school records. They’ve tracked your group through the phone call we shared on your wrist-unit. Throw it out after I hang up. This may be the last time you ever talk to me, but after what they did to our parents . . . I couldn’t let them do it to you, too. I love you, sis. I’m coming in now, get ready.”