Grave Games: A Collection Of Riveting Suspense Thrillers

by James Hunt

  “Awful quiet now,” Martinez said from the backseat. “Could be a trap.”

  Burke drove on, disregarding Martinez’s suspicion. “I think it’s safe to say that we’re not their top priority right now.”

  Martinez shook his head. “You of all people should know about priorities. The CIA has bungled this thing every bit as much as the FBI.”

  Burke turned slightly to the back. Angela feared an argument between the two men, but Burke appeared to shrug the comments off.

  “Can’t say I don’t agree. But there are a lot of good people in those agencies, patriotic Americans, trying to protect the country. Trust me, they’re frustrated beyond belief.”

  “I know the feeling,” Martinez said.

  Burke reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge, holding it up for everyone to see. “If we are stopped and questioned, all I have to do is show them this badge.”

  “You really think that’ll work?” Martinez said. “Hell, you and Gannon here are wanted by the FBI.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Burke replied, lowering his badge. “Just stay alert and follow my lead.”

  Burke’s words seemed to resonate, and Martinez questioned him no more, though he was showing increasing signs of anxiety. His head darted around, searching beyond each window, and he was constantly looking at his phone.

  With more cracks and potholes, the road got bumpy again. The radio continued its report on the unprecedented terror alert sweeping the city. They were living a surreal nightmare, and no reporter, commentator, or state official seemed to know exactly what to say or do about it.

  Angela turned to face Martinez. “What kind of firepower do the Outlaws have?” she asked. “I saw some pistols and a couple of knives but nothing more.”

  “They have plenty of weapons and ammo. Semiautomatic rifles. Long range rifles. Shotguns.”

  Angela thought of Burke’s machine gun in the trunk. “What about ammo?”

  Martinez tilted his head back in surprise. “I can’t really say. What are you looking for?”

  Angela signaled at Burke to elaborate. He raised his head in response. “We’ve got some pretty heavy fire power. But that’s the problem. We’re a little low on ammo.”

  He slowed at a barren intersection and stopped. A field of dying grass lay ahead on one side of the road and a wavy tree line on the other. Just ahead, a road sign displayed their destination: Dallas Nuclear Power Plant, 2 Miles. Below the road sign read another sign: No Trespassing.

  The Fusion sat idling for a moment as Burke looked around. “Need to find another way. This road leads right to the gate, where I’m guessing the National Guard is lying in the wait.”

  “No problem,” Angela said, examining the map. “Take a left. We’ll hit the overlook in less than a mile. We’re in rural country now.”

  “The wild west,” Burke said. “Keep your eyes open.”

  He turned left as the car stereo crackled. The news was fading in and out as though the signal had been jammed. It was strange, considering that Angela was having the same problem with her cell phone. She simply couldn’t maintain a signal. She felt grateful to have a map, however, and even more grateful to know how to read it.

  Never leave home without it, she thought to herself.

  They continued down the road, eager to reach a spot where they could see the power plant in full view. They might even have to split up. A chain link fence continued along their right, with three parallel lines of barbed wire running along the top. The message was clear enough: No trespassing.

  Beyond the fence, all they could see were trees, their barren branches shed of leaves, with patchy grass and dirt below. On their right they passed an empty parking lot to a seemingly vacant warehouse that looked at least a century old. Angela glanced at the redbrick building and its multiple loading docks, contemplating its strange and lonely aura. Several trees blocked the bar-covered windows, and as their convoy continued down the dusty road, there didn’t seem to be a soul in sight.

  The road gradually curved to the right, and they passed an auto salvage yard full of junk cars that seemed to stretch on for miles. The fence that wrapped around the power plant continued and pushed inward as they neared a winding hill off the shoulder of the road. A chain hung from two posts, blocking the path up the hill. It was here, Angela told them, that they needed to go.

  “Just wonderful,” Martinez said.

  “Not to worry,” Burke said. “I’ve got plenty of tools just for this situation.”

  Angela turned to Martinez with a look of reassurance. “He does.”

  Burke slowed his car and shifted to the side of the road, halting at the chain impeding their path. Martinez’s cell phone immediately rang. He glanced at the screen then at Angela. “It’s Hendrickson.” No doubt the Outlaws wanted an update.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” he said into the phone.

  After a pause, he continued. “Special Agent Burke is gonna handle the chain. This is the route we want to take. We should be able to see the whole plant from here.”

  Burke was already out of the car and at his trunk. Angela turned and saw him pull out a small pair of bolt cutters. He walked to the fence and cut the chain in half. The chain-link collapsed onto the dirt on both sides. There would be no explaining their motives at this point if caught. Their best bet was to proceed and hope that they could prevent the power plant from being overtaken.

  “This is the only way,” Martinez said on the phone. Apparently the Outlaws were getting skittish. “We can’t just go through the front gates.” After another pause, Martinez’s tone shifted to measured calmness. “Earl, I believe in this mission. I really think we can pull it off.”

  Angela hadn’t heard Hendrickson’s first name until then. Martinez hung up the phone and sighed as Burke returned to the car, bolt cutters in hand, and closed the trunk.

  “They think we’re taking too long,” Martinez said. “Hendrickson wanted to know why we’re going around the place like this, but I tried to explain it to him.”

  “I think we’re all a little anxious right now,” Angela said. “It’s to be expected.”

  Burke opened the driver’s-side door and jumped in. Angela noticed he was wearing his tactical gloves. And his pistol was at his side. She was armed herself with her government-issued .40 Smith and Wesson. They had plenty of pistol ammunition left but had nearly extinguished their rifle ammo during their earlier firefight in the underground sleeper-cell compound. She was glad they had taken out the place, glad that the US government bombed it into rubble following the illicit drone strikes. But there was one major problem: Asgar had gotten away and seemed more emboldened than ever.

  “Good thing I brought my sniper rifle,” Burke said as he drove forward past the broken fence and up the grassy hill where skeleton-like trees concealed their encroaching convoy.

  “Sniper rife?” Martinez asked. “What else are you packing?”

  “I’ve got a 240B machine gun and M4 carbine action rifle.”

  “And a shotgun,” Angela added.

  Martinez looked stunned. “How did you get your hands on a machine gun?”

  “I guess you could say I’m a collector,” Burke said.

  “You better hope the government doesn’t catch you now. CIA badge or not, you could get in some serious trouble.”

  Burke glanced into the rearview mirror and smiled. “What can I say? I love my guns.” His smile suddenly dropped as he looked to Angela and then back at the road. “The sniper rifle… I haven’t fired that in a while. Not since my last assignment.”

  She could sense the somber realization in his tone. He was thinking of his family. He said no more, and it was clear why. Exposing any anguish made him vulnerable, and that was something he couldn’t show now. Not with so many lives on the line. Martinez got the hint and didn’t question him any further. They continued up, as the narrow dirt road veered left and then around the hill, eventually reaching the top, where the two large cooling towers could be see
n from a distance, emitting vapor into the air like puffs of thick cloud.

  Burke followed the curve to the top of the hill, where the ground flattened and they could see a majority of the plant from about a half mile away. Even better was a large rock, the size of a Winnebago, at the edge of the cliff, concealing their presence. Angela couldn’t have hoped for anything more.

  Seeming satisfied, Burke parked directly behind the rock as the Outlaws pulled up on both sides. They immediately poured out, looking eager for a fight. Angela hadn’t said two words to any of them beyond addressing them as a group, but she found their presence oddly comforting. They shared something in common—ostracized by their government for knowing too much, many of them veterans who never considered service to their country over, retired or not. This, apparently, had made them dangerous.

  “Well…” Burke said, tightening his gloves with a Velcro strap around his wrist, “here we are.”

  Martinez leaned forward with his hands on top of both front seats. “If it’s not too much, I think I’ll stay close to the car. I’m not exactly up for climbing down this hill and leading the charge.”

  Angela turned to him with a smile. “You’ve done plenty, sir. And I don’t want you going anywhere near that place.”

  Burke nodded in agreement. “You really came through for us, Captain Martinez.” He pulled the keys out of the ignition and held them out. “Here, feel free to run the A/C while we’re gone.”

  “I didn’t say I was going to wait in the car. I’d just prefer to stay close if anything happens,” Martinez said.

  Burke shrugged and opened his door, stepping out as Angela leaned closer to Martinez with concern in her eyes. “Just promise me that you’ll be careful,” she said. “I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

  “Relax,” Martinez said, opening his door. “I just want to get a good look at the place.” He held his legs outside and lifted himself out with Burke’s assistance. After a grunt, he was on his feet and moving toward the Outlaws as they assembled outside their vehicles.

  Angela looked down at her phone, wanting to call someone, anyone, and tell them why she was doing this, if anything to reassure herself. Her parents would be furious, not to mention terrified for her safety. Chief Drake was proving to be as useful as an unloaded pistol, and her daughters she was certain she would see soon enough.

  She exited the car, hiking up her jeans. Pebbles crunched below her black boots as she looked into the backseat through the window, eyeing the two flak vests lying on the floor. She imagined that she and Burke would need them soon enough. She joined up with the others as they inched their way around the rock, everyone eager to get a good view of the power plant.

  There, in the distance, they could see the cooling towers in full, with a large, spherical dome in the middle. There were green buildings, at least four to five stories tall, in front of the towers, and another fence surrounding the entire premises.

  The power plant was largely isolated with nothing around it but barren fields with a lush tree line along the front. A spacious employee parking lot was to the side, with several vehicles parked about. They saw a tiny guard-post at the front gate, with two military Humvees parked outside and soldiers posted at the gun turrets.

  For such a vital target, she had expected to see an entire army brigade encompassing the plant with Apache helicopters hovering in the air.

  She felt no vindication about the fact that her fears about the plant seemed to materialize with one look. Any visible security was paltry at best.

  “Well, there she is, boys and girls,” Hendrickson bellowed to his group. Fortunately, the plant was still standing, and didn’t seem to be under any duress. It seemed to be another miracle. They had made it there before the terrorists. Now, one question remained: was the plant in any real danger?

  Martinez walked beside Angela and sighed with relief as he leaned against the rock. “Thank God,” he said. “Maybe the worst is over.”

  “Don’t speak too soon,” Burke said, addressing the group as heads turned to him. “We’re not out of the forest yet.” He walked past the Outlaws and stood out in the open, examining the power plant ahead. “This is our stakeout point. We don’t leave until Asgar is dead and his sleeper cell wiped out.”

  Both Hendrickson and Martinez looked baffled. The other Outlaws dropped their hopeful expressions in utter confusion. Martinez walked to Burke’s side, confronting him.

  “Just how do you ensure that happening? He’s out there and we’re here. Isn’t it enough to just make sure they’re protecting the building?”

  Burke turned and walked past Martinez, straight for his car. “I brought you and Agent Gannon here. Now, I’ve got business of my own to conduct.”

  Martinez followed him, angry, as the group watched, unsure of what was going on. “You’re going to find him all by yourself?” Martinez shouted. “Is that what you’re telling us?”

  “Pretty much,” Burke said, not turning around. He opened his trunk and looked at Martinez, who was boiling. “This is the only way to end this shit. I’ve got leads. Names and numbers I can track to find every last damn safe house that subhuman cockroach has.”

  He pulled out his M4 rifle and slapped a magazine into its well. “You don’t need me here. I’m more than confident you can handle an attack should one happen.”

  Angela felt compelled to step in, and hurried back to the car, full of questions of her own. “Special Agent Burke. I understand your desire to get Asgar. It just seems like a deviation from the plan. And nothing good can come from it. We need to stick together on this and fight them to the end.” She knew Burke to be impulsive at times and especially stubborn, but she didn’t expect him to just leave them there to pursue his own vendetta.

  Burke then held out his rifle for Angela to take. “You’re good with this. Why don’t you hold onto to it while I’m gone?”

  Angela hesitated and then took the weapon, feeling helpless to convince him otherwise. “Give us an hour at least. We need your expertise. We need you!”

  Burke slammed his trunk shut and looked up at her and Martinez as the Outlaws kept their distance.

  “This isn’t good for morale,” Martinez said. “I got them here thinking we were all in this together.”

  “We are,” Burke said. “But we need to be able to walk and chew bubblegum at the same time. No sense putting our eggs in one basket, you know.”

  Martinez stepped forward, blocking his path. “I appreciate your witticisms, but this is different.”

  Angela studied Burke. She could tell by his stance and demeanor that there was no changing his mind. The more they pushed him, the more resistant he would become. “Let him go,” she said softly with a hand on Martinez’s shoulder. “We can do this. Maybe Special Agent Burke is right.”

  Martinez moved aside as Burke walked past them to the driver’s side. “I’m glad you see it that way.” He opened his door. “I’ll be back soon. Keep an eye on this place in the meantime.”

  Martinez turned away in frustration as Angela nodded, accepting his decision. Burke waved to them and began to step into his car when all of a sudden, they heard a vehicle driving up the hill. Burke froze, listening. Angela turned around as the ominous sound grew closer. Martinez moved immediately to the front of Burke’s car, limping along the way.

  They could hear an engine roaring and a cloud of dust rising, but no vehicle in sight. There was little doubt, however, that they had visitors. Burke yanked the M4 from Angela’s arms, startling her. She quickly joined Martinez at the front of the car, crouching down as Burke took a knee behind his car door, aiming the weapon ahead.

  Angela turned to the Outlaws as they drew their pistols and rifles. “We have company!” she said. “Take cover.”

  They scrambled around their vehicles—the two vans and the Cherokee—and took hasty positions, aiming ahead.

  “Who the hell is it?” Martinez said, looking ahead with his pistol drawn. Angela placed her han
d on his shoulder and gently pushed him farther down. She had to keep him safe, above all else. “Please, sir. Stay out of sight.”

  He pushed himself back up with some noticeable resistance. “I can handle myself, Agent Gannon. Thank you.”

  She was about make her case for his safety when an old beat-up van came into view at the top of the hill. Its headlights were on, concealing the driver and passengers from view. The van roared up the hill, and then the driver slammed its brakes, making it skid to a halt and nearly hitting the rear of Burke’s car. Exhaust fumed from the van as its engine idled. Burke, Angela, Martinez, and the Outlaws stood locked in place, ready to engage. There was still no telling who exactly was in the van. The gray sky was quickly darkening as thunder rumbled in the sky above.

  “Who the hell is it?” Martinez asked while trying to peek above the car. From the looks of the rusty van, it could be a lost local or someone far more sinister.

  “I don’t know,” Angela said. “But we need to stay down.”

  Burke threw caution to the wind and decided to find out whom they were dealing with. “This is Special Agent Lyle Burke with the CIA! Identify yourself now!” He kept his rifle aimed at the windshield, finger steadily on the trigger.

  The dark figure at the steering wheel made no move. The van suddenly darted backward as the tires smoked, tossing pebbles in the air. Burke fired a warning shot into the air, but the van maintained its hasty withdrawal. It flew to the side of the hill as the doors suddenly flew open, and a barrage of blinding spotlights hit Burke’s car and lit the entire area around them. Dark and muscular figures leapt from the van and charged toward them, holding powerful lights and rifles and firing as they advanced.

  Burke knelt behind his door as bullets ricocheted against glass and metal. He could hear the men shouting in Arabic to one another. They were panicking. They hadn’t expected anyone to be there. With that tidbit, Burke made his call.