Ava's Crucible- The Complete series Box Set

by Mark Goodwin

  James huffed.

  Foley glanced up at the rearview. “Yes, sir, would be the correct response.”

  James’ voice lacked enthusiasm and held a faint odor of contempt. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Charity turned toward the back and forced a smile.

  Twenty minutes later, Foley pulled onto the University of Austin campus. People were everywhere. National Guardsmen stood arm to arm in a phalanx creating a corridor for a long line of people turning in their firearms. Behind the guardsmen stood a rabble of Antifa soldiers, all carrying black AK-47’s and wearing matching black load-bearing vests fully stocked with radios and spare magazines.

  A massive crowd made up of members from Right Now wearing home-made riot gear and carrying picket signs protesting the collection centers stood outside the library. Protestors stood behind barricades and chanted. One of the leaders of the protest held a bullhorn. He shouted out, “If you want my gun . . .”

  Then the crowd responded, “Come and take it!”

  “At least someone is standing up for their rights,” James said.

  “For now.” Foley pointed out several people in plain clothes taking pictures of the protestors. “Once they run those photos against Google and Facebook’s facial-recognition program, the Markovich regime will know exactly where to send the SJL henchmen. They’ll execute no-knock raids in the middle of the night. These guys will all be disappeared. The time for civil disobedience has expired.”

  “Look at how long the line is.” Charity gazed out the window. “It’s pretty chaotic. I wonder how long it will take to get through?”

  Ava watched as more and more people entered the line. “I’m not sure. But it is moving.”

  “Could be over an hour.” Charity’s voice sounded worried. “What if they discover one of the bombs at another location? They’ll know who dropped it off. They could call here and have the National Guard grab me. What will we do if that happens? You guys wouldn’t stand a chance in a gunfight against all these soldiers plus the Antifa fighters.”

  Ava knew every word of Charity’s concerns were well-founded, yet she did not want to make things worse. But neither was she willing to lie to her friend in order to quell her fears. She said nothing.

  Ulysses' voice came over Foley’s speakerphone. “Charity, if you can find a way to make the drop without standing in line, do that. Maybe they have a drop-off desk that doesn’t issue receipts.”

  “Okay. But what if this is the only way?” Charity asked.

  “Then it’s the only way. I’m sorry,” replied Ulysses.

  “I understand.” Charity dutifully picked up the ammo can and the pistol. She proceeded to fulfill the task she’d signed up for.

  James spoke with a grim tone. “If she gets in trouble, I’m going to fight it out. So, if you guys have to leave, let me out first. I’ll wait until you’re gone to start shooting.”

  “If she gets in trouble, we’ll all fight it out. We’re not leaving her behind.” Foley watched Charity walk up to the line.

  Ava listened to Charity who was speaking to the young guy in line in front of her.

  “Do you know if they have a drop-off point where you can just give them the gun? I don’t really need the receipt.”

  “No, but you know the tax credit is refundable, right?”

  “Yeah, I know, but I’ve got to get to work.”

  “What kind of gun do you have?”

  Ava could hear Charity unzip the soft cover gun case.

  “Smith and Wesson .357.”

  “No kidding? That thing is worth some money. At least five hundred. If you don’t want the tax credit, do you mind if I turn it in? No sense in letting it go to waste.”

  “Sure. Can you hand in my bullets also?”

  “Yeah, no problem. Thanks.”

  “No, thank you.”

  Ava watched from a distance as Charity left the bomb with the unsuspecting guy.

  Foley had the truck turned around and ready to exit the parking lot by the time Charity returned. They sped off towards the convention center to make the final drop.

  CHAPTER 17

  The wicked plotteth against the just, and gnasheth upon him with his teeth. The Lord shall laugh at him: for he seeth that his day is coming. The wicked have drawn out the sword, and have bent their bow, to cast down the poor and needy, and to slay such as be of upright conversation. Their sword shall enter into their own heart, and their bows shall be broken. A little that a righteous man hath is better than the riches of many wicked. For the arms of the wicked shall be broken: but the Lord upholdeth the righteous. The Lord knoweth the days of the upright: and their inheritance shall be for ever. They shall not be ashamed in the evil time: and in the days of famine they shall be satisfied. But the wicked shall perish, and the enemies of the Lord shall be as the fat of lambs: they shall consume; into smoke shall they consume away.

  Psalms 37:12-20

  The inside of the vehicle was hushed. Ava watched the doors of the convention center. Far fewer people were attempting to turn in their firearms at the final location.

  “I wonder why this collection point is slower than the campus?” Foley gazed suspiciously out the window.

  “Free parking at the campus.” Ava slumped low in the back seat so not to be seen by anyone walking by the vehicle.

  “Wow. I guess that’s it,” said James.

  “I’ll take it. I don’t think I could stomach standing in line for an hour. I’m ready to get this over with.” Charity picked up the last bomb and the pistol which would serve as her final admission ticket into the collection center.

  “You’ll be fine. It’s almost over.” Ava tried to instill confidence in her friend, hoping that her words were true.

  “And if something goes wrong, you’ll be right behind me. Right?”

  Ava peeked over the seat to smile at her friend. “With bells on.”

  “Thanks.” With her IED in tow, Charity closed the door.

  Ava said a silent prayer for Charity who was being so brave.

  Five minutes later, Charity could be heard speaking with the clerk.

  “This is the only gun you own?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Clank! Ava heard the sound of the ammo can opening.

  The voice of another man commented, “9mm ammo. This will come in handy.”

  “I think it got wet. I’m not sure if it’s any good,” Charity said. “It’s pretty old.”

  “Looks fine to me,” said the second man.

  Ava held her breath, hoping the man would not look deeper into the ammo can.

  More noise could be heard. “What the heck is this?”

  Ulysses' voice came over Foley’s speaker. “Get her out of there. Drive up on the sidewalk. Send James inside to get Charity. Ava, you cover James and Charity when they come running out. You have to eliminate anyone who sees the truck. Leave no witnesses. As soon as you’re one hundred feet from the building, push the button. I’m going to detonate my targets now.”

  James was out of the truck and sprinting toward the glass doors before Ulysses finished speaking.

  Foley had to back onto the sidewalk from the street corner to get around the metal barricades.

  Charity sounded frantic. “It was my uncle’s gun and his bullets. He was in the military. I’m not sure what he had in there.”

  “What’s your uncle’s name?” asked the clerk.

  “I’ve got to go,” she yelped.

  Ava rolled down her window and stuck the barrel of the AR-15 out. She flipped the selector switch activating Foley’s Tac-Con trigger into rapid-fire mode. She watched James jerk the door open to the convention center. TAT, TAT, TAT, TAT! He squeezed off several rounds inside the door. “Run! Come on!” James continued to fire. TAT, TAT, TAT!

  Ava watched the doors of the convention center through her reflex sight. Charity finally appeared.

  Foley yelled out the window at Charity. “Jump in the bed of the truck!”

&n
bsp; James walked backward, shooting through the glass doors while he retreated.

  Charity hopped onto the bumper, over the tailgate, and quickly lay down flat in the bed of the pickup. James followed close behind her.

  Two Antifa militants ran out in pursuit of them, AK-47s raised and ready to fire. POW, POW, POP.

  Ava returned fire. TA, TA, TA, TA, TA, Ta! Spent brass poured out the window, clanking on the pavement below. “Got one!”

  “You gotta get the other one. Remember, no witnesses.” Foley punched the gas, shoving Ava against the back seat.

  She adjusted herself to regain her stance. She turned off the rapid fire and took steady aim at the remaining Antifa fighter who was leveling his AK-47 toward the truck. POW! The bullet struck him in the chest, and he fell to the ground. Unfortunately, four more men with AK-47s and black vests over black hoodies came pouring out of the doors.

  Ava quickly retrieved the detonator from her pocket. She estimated that they were approximately sixty feet from the doors. She hoped the truck was far enough from the explosion. CLICK.

  Ava closed her eyes, prayed to God that the device would work and that they’d get away before anyone else saw them. Hearing nothing for what seemed like seconds, she opened her eyes. She wondered if she’d pressed the button of the right detonator.

  BOOOOOOM! Fire and glass, and smoke and shrapnel jetted out of the doors, impaling the black-clad aggressors who were taking aim at Ava and her friends.

  “What’s your status?” Ulysses said over the phone.

  “Target one down. No friendly casualties. En route to secondary target.” Foley cut the corner hard, slinging Ava against the door.

  “Good. My first target is also destroyed.”

  Ava felt a sense of pride and accomplishment welling up in her stomach, overtaking the feelings of sheer terror and absolute panic induced by the near miss.

  Ava watched to make sure they weren’t being followed as Foley raced toward the University of Texas campus only miles north of their present location.

  “Anything behind us?” Foley asked.

  “No. All clear. For now.” Ava replaced her magazine with a fresh one. “Should we pull over so Charity and James can get back in the cab? It can’t be too comfortable being slung around in the bed of the truck. I’m sure it’s bumpy, also.”

  “We can’t stop for that. We’re up against the clock.” Foley glanced at the rearview. “The truck bed is more comfortable than a bullet.”

  James spoke over the mic on his earphones. “We’ll be okay back here. Do what you’ve gotta do.”

  When they arrived at the campus, people were running in every direction. The National Guard had positioned heavily armored vehicles by the front doors of the library and appeared to be evacuating the building.

  “I guess they know they’re under attack.” Ava held the second detonator in her hand.

  “We can’t get any closer than this without somebody seeing that we have a guy with a rifle lying in the bed of our truck.” Foley slowed as they drove by.

  “Should I hit it now?” Ava asked.

  “I’m going to get the truck turned around so we’ll be headed toward the I-35 on-ramp. But be ready.”

  “Okay.” Ava held the detonator firmly in her sweaty hands.

  Foley pulled into a parking lot to turn around. He drove at a moderate pace back toward the library. “We have to hope this is close enough. Get ready.”

  “Finger is on the button,” Ava took a deep breath and held it.

  “Go!”

  Click.

  KABOOOOOM!

  Fire, ash, smoke, and debris exploded like a volcano from behind the two military vehicles parked in front of the library’s front doors.

  “Hang on back there!” Foley pulled up onto the sidewalk to drive around the car in front of him that had stopped to see what happened.

  “Got it!” James’ voice came through the phone.

  Ava looked through the back window to see Charity and James being jostled around the back of the truck by the rough ride.

  An older model gold car coming from the opposite direction had three passengers in black hoodies with Antifa armbands. The girl in the front passenger’s side and the man in the rear noticed the truck and yelled for the driver to give chase.

  “They made us.” Ava shoved the detonator back in her pocket and readied her rifle.

  “What’s your status?” Ulysses asked over the phone.

  “Target is detonated, but we’ve got a car full of hostiles in pursuit,” Foley replied.

  “What are they doing?” Ulysses asked for clarification.

  “They want me to pull over.”

  “Do it. As soon as they get out of the car, have James pop up from the bed of the truck and light them up. Ava, you be ready, also,” her father said.

  “Let me know when to start shooting,” said James over the phone. “I’ve got a fresh magazine and my finger is on the trigger.”

  “Roger that.” Foley drove under the overpass and pulled to the side. He rolled his window down. “Are you guys okay?”

  The driver jumped out of the car with a semi-automatic pistol in his hand. “We’re fine, but we noticed you trying awfully hard to get away from the scene.”

  The two passengers also stepped out of the vehicle. The male was armed with an AK. The girl held a shotgun with a pistol grip.

  Foley acted surprised. “Of course! Didn’t you guys see that explosion? I wanted to get out of there, in case there was another blast.”

  Ava sunk low in her seat and watched the leader approach the truck through the side view mirror.

  “Step out of the car,” said the man with the pistol.

  “Hit it, James,” Foley yelled.

  Ava stuck her rifle out the window and began shooting in tandem with James. They cut down the two men before they knew what had hit them.

  BOOM! The girl’s riot gun blasted. Ava saw multiple spiderweb cracks appear on the back windshield of the truck. She watched James take a hit from the shotgun. He was knocked flat against the bed of the truck.

  Charity screamed, “James!”

  Ava lined up the red reticle of her reflex sight with the girl’s chest. She watched the girl pump another shell into the chamber. Ava squeezed the trigger. POW!

  The girl dropped the shotgun and fell to the ground.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Ava shouted.

  Foley gunned the engine and sped toward the on-ramp.

  “Status?” Ulysses asked.

  Ava turned around to look through the cracked glass of the rear windshield. “James was hit with a shotgun. He’s bleeding from his face, neck, and shoulder. Can you hear me, James?”

  “Yeah,” A mumbled and weak voice replied.

  “How are you doing? Can you see out of both eyes?”

  “Yeah, I can see. But I’ve got a lot of blood coming out of my face. I’ve got a pellet in my cheek and my jaw.”

  Ulysses said, “You can see and you’re conscious. That means it could be worse. You’ll be home in no time. Sam will get you fixed up.”

  Ava asked her father, “Did everything go okay on your end?”

  “Yes, I’m about five minutes out from Anderson Lane.”

  “Us, too,” Foley added.

  James’ injury added to the tension for the ride home and put a dark cloud over the glory of their achievement.

  When they had to stop at the first red light on Bee Cave Road, Ava rolled down her window and tossed the first aid kit to Charity. “Keep pressure on the wounds. We’re almost home.”

  Foley spoke into his phone. “Ulysses, are you confident enough that we aren’t being tailed to go to Sam’s? Or would you prefer to have Sam meet us at the trailer?”

  “I’ve stayed ten-cars back from you since you got on Anderson. I haven’t seen anyone tailing you. If anyone is being followed, it would be me. I’ll go back to the trailer. You get James to Sam’s. He’ll be much better equipped to deal with his injuries at the house rat
her than trying to haul all of his supplies out to the trailer.

  “But regardless of whether or not I’m being tailed, this Jeep belongs to Ava and we know they’re looking for her. We’re going to have to get rid of it. And Ava, pull the battery out of your phone, in case they’re tracking your GPS.”

  “Okay. Foley’s phone is on speaker, so I’ll still be able to hear you.” Ava had another twenty minutes of having to watch her friend’s distress through the shattered glass as Charity tried to control the bleeding of her husband in the bed of an old pickup truck.

  CHAPTER 18

  The wicked borroweth, and payeth not again: but the righteous sheweth mercy, and giveth.

  Psalms 37:21

  Dressed and ready to go, Ava sat on the wooden stairs of the weathered front porch Tuesday morning. She gently ran her fingers through Buckley’s fur. The dog flopped his bushy tail every few seconds as a sign that she was in the right spot. Directly behind Ava, Foley cleaned his rifle in the swing, which was suspended from the roof of the covered porch by a galvanized metal chain on either side.

  Still in her robe, Charity walked out the door of the well-kept farmhouse with a cup of coffee and took a seat next to Ava on the stairs.

  “How’s James?” Ava asked.

  “Still sleeping. Sam said it’s best if he stays sedated for a couple of days. He pulled eleven pellets out of James’ face, neck, and shoulder. He gave him antibiotics, so Sam thinks the risk of infection is low, as long as we keep his wounds clean. It could have been a lot worse.”

  Foley applied a few drops of oil to the barrel of his gun and wiped it with an old tee-shirt. “At that range, a larger shot size probably would have been fatal. It’s a good thing for James that Antifa doesn’t know #6 shot is more effective on squirrels than people. If he’d taken buckshot in the face and neck, today would be a sad day.”