With it still being there, they’d realize he and Isabella hadn’t left and were still close by.
Even worse, if he and Isabella didn’t hurry, they’d arrive at the same time as the men.
Glancing back at Isabella, he made sure she was paying attention, then made a forward rotating gesture with one finger, indicating that they would be moving faster. He didn’t wait for confirmation before he began moving more quickly, working his way back towards the scooter, occasionally glancing in the direction of the voices.
It sounded like there were at least four, maybe five men in the nearby group. Too many for him to fight off.
Heck, he’d been fortunate to get the drop on the two men he’d taken out earlier.
He rushed forward, willing the edge of the salt pond area to appear. When he heard the voices on the next row over, he reached back, grabbed Isabella by the wrist, and broke into a run.
“Yo! What’s that?” A voice called out.
“Someone’s there!” Another voice answered.
“Probably the fucker that killed Deon and T.J.!” A third voice added.
The sound of men running came from the other side of a large mound as he and Isabella ran, no longer worried about stealth. Stealth was no longer an option. Their only hope revolved around speed.
Finally reaching the edge of the salt ponds, he guided Isabella through a gap in the chain link fence and across the road. Jumping onto the moped, he motioned for her to get behind him as he inserted the key into the ignition and started it.
“Hold on!”
He pulled back on the throttle, causing the bike to lurch forward, out of the bushes and onto the road. He leaned to the right as they turned down the street that ran parallel to the salt ponds, heading north.
Shots rang out, pinging along the pavement as they fled. Logan leaned down, bringing Isabella down with him as he tried to reduce the size of the target the men behind them were aiming at. He swerved as he drove the moped, trying to confuse the men as well, but he quickly realized that it soon wouldn’t make a difference.
The sound of a powerful engine roared behind them, and it was getting closer.
Looking ahead, he saw a cross street.
“Stay down!” he yelled to Isabella, raising his voice to compete with the noise of the road. He pulled harder back on the throttle, though he knew he’d already brought it back as far as it would go. The little engine was giving him everything it had.
It just wasn’t enough.
Glancing in the side mirror, he saw the black SUV accelerating towards them, its big tires crushing the random cans, plastic bottles, cardboard boxes, and other debris in the road effortlessly. A section of molded plastic bumper flew skyward, bouncing off the Escalade’s windshield before tumbling down the road behind it. The men chasing them were barely three hundred yards behind and closing fast.
‘Shit,’ he thought, returning his focus to the road ahead. Nothing could be gained by focusing on the SUV. His only hope was to find a way to slow the vehicle down.
WIthout slowing he turned onto Thornton Avenue, causing the moped’s small tires to squeal in response as they struggled to handle a maneuver they were far from designed for. The moped wobbled, threatening to fall over, eliciting a scream of fear from Isabella, but somehow managed to make the turn, leaving small bits of rubber on the road as it propelled itself forward, carrying them ahead. Logan saw industrial buildings on both sides of the road, with numerous large trucks parked along either side. Unfortunately, the road itself was wide open, meaning the SUV would have no issues accelerating as it continued to close the gap.
Looking back once more, he saw the Escalade skid sideways as it made the turn, sliding across the intersection and swiping against a Volkswagen Beetle, ripping off its mirror, denting its side, and shattering the glass of its windows.
The impact slowed the SUV momentarily as it rebounded from the impact, allowing Logan and Isabella to regain precious distance between themselves and the men that chased them.
The road ahead split, with Marshlands Road heading off towards the water and Thornton Avenue continuing on towards the Dumbarton Bridge. Though the smaller road was enticing, a quick glance to the left showed that the road remained at sea level as it headed towards the wetlands, whereas the bridge quickly rose upwards as it extended west.
Following Thornton Avenue, he guided the moped around the curve, still leaning forward as he tried to minimize their drag in an effort to coax more speed out of the little motorbike. Isabella’s left arm was wrapped tightly around him, squeezing him with everything she had as they leaned into the turn.
As the road ahead came into view, Logan was suddenly filled with hope. Multiple vehicles stood in the middle of the road at various points. Some stood alone, their doors hanging open as left by their owners. Others were tangled together as a result of a collision. Of those, several had burned to a crisp, blackened hulls barely recognizable for what they were.
Whatever the case, they were obstacles for the SUV that pursued him and Isabella. Where the moped’s tiny engine had been a handicap on the straightaways, its small size and mobility gave it a distinct advantage as Logan guided it up the street, headed towards the onramp for the bridge. The SUV was forced too slow as it worked its way around the mass of abandoned vehicles, accelerating hard at each opening, braking hard for each obstacle.
‘We might just make it,’ Logan thought, as they zipped back and forth, easily maneuvering around the burned out frame of a mobile home.
Ahead and to the left, he saw the offramp for the bridge that led onto Thornton Avenue. The ramp was completely jammed with stalled cars, making it nearly impassable.
Nearly.
Seizing the opportunity, Logan cut across the road, headed towards the ramp. With the amount of vehicles on the bridge, he knew they’d eventually have to abandon the moped, but if they could at least climb the offramp at this speed, they’d create enough space between them and their pursuers to give them a chance at getting away.
A searing pain in his left arm came almost in conjunction with the sound of a gunshot.
The bullet ripped through the muscle at the top of his left arm ripping through his triceps and shoulder, tearing the flesh open as it left a seared path.
As wounds go, it was far from fatal, but at that moment he was gripping the handlebars tightly as he guided the moped into the turn. The force of the shot knocked his arm forward, pulling his hand off the grip.
With no control on the side they were turning, the wheel turned too far left, causing the front tire to slip out from under them. A split second later, Logan and Isabella were airborne, flying towards the bushes that lined the side of the offramp.
Isabella’s small form landed in a bush, its leaves and branches breaking her fall.
Logan’s heavier form tore through the adjacent bush, slowing only slightly before he tumbled on the dirt and shrubs. His head bounced hard against the ground as he came to a stop on the ground, covered with leaves, twigs, and dirt.
His vision began to fade as he laid there, looking at the sky.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Palo Alto, California
“Feeling any better?” Sarah asked, looking at the pretty young woman in front of her.
Jennifer nodded. “A little. I don’t feel so dizzy anymore, but I definitely feel a killer headache coming on.” She moved her head to the left, then to the right, grimacing slightly. “Neck’s a bit tight, too, probably from the impact, but it doesn’t feel serious.”
Sarah offered her the water bottle she held. “Hold this for a second and I’ll see if I can find some Motrin in my backpack.”
“You have some?”
Nodding, Sarah smiled in response. “I have kids, so yes.” Moving to her backpack, she rummaged through it before withdrawing a plastic bottle. She dumped some of the contents onto her palm, revealing a variety of pills. Carefully selecting two large white pills, she passed them to Jennifer.
Looki
ng towards the front section of the armored truck wistfully, she said, “I hate being stuck here.”
“Me, too,” Jennifer replied, shaking her head.
“At least we’re safe,” Richard said from his position on the floor nearby. “This thing is a beast.”
“It does look pretty tough,” Sarah said, nodding.
“Not just tough, it’s like a tank. Unless you’re using something heavier and more powerful than a rifle, the people inside will laugh at you.” He chuckled himself before adding, “Might as well be in an A.P.C.”
“A.P.C.?” Sarah asked, looking at the elderly man.
“Armored Personnel Carrier,” Richard explained. “They’re used to get people safely in and out of dangerous environments.”
“Nice,” Jennifer said, resting her head against the interior wall of the truck’s cargo area. “Too bad it doesn’t run. We could take it and go help the guys.”
The three of them were quiet for a bit, before Richard said, “You could try to jump start it.”
“Really?”
Laying on his back, his hands moved above him as he spoke. “You’d need to find something of similar size, though,” he clarified. “This thing’s big, so a regular car of truck battery won’t do the trick.”
“What would we need, then?”
Richard took a deep breath and exhaled. “Shoot, like a moving truck or something. Maybe a school bus?”
Sarah and Jennifer looked at each other.
“What do you think?” Sarah asked.
Jennifer shrugged, then nodded. “I think I hate the idea of them being out there alone.”
“Okay, hold on,” Richard began, “first of all, they’re Marines, okay? They live for this shit, and there aren’t many who are better at it - except Chili.” He paused, letting his words sink in. After a few seconds, he went on. “So if you want to get this thing started and get moving, that’s great, but don’t do it because you think they can’t handle whatever’s out there.”
The two women nodded, feeling chastised.
“Okay, but I still do want to get this thing running. It would be perfect for getting us the rest of the way to the Protective Zone,” Sarah said, looking over at her kids. The two children looked up at her, each still looking a bit shell shocked from the IED blast.
From his spot on the floor, Richard turned his head and looked at the two women. “Do either of you know how to drive a stick shift?”
Both women shook their heads.
Richard thought about their response, then said. “Almost all of the bigger trucks you’d be looking for would be stick shift, so unless you’re prepared to go for a long hike to find a U-Haul or Penske truck - a lot of rental moving trucks are automatic - you might be out of luck.”
Sarah shook her head dejectedly. “I wouldn’t want to leave for that long.”
“I understand,” Richard said, turning his head back so that he was looking at the ceiling once more. After a minute, he asked, “What stores are nearby?”
Looking up, Sarah said, “Hold on, I’ll take a look.” With that, she slid to the edge of the cargo area and squeezed out through the partially open door.
A minute later, she came back, shaking her head as she climbed into the back of the armored truck. “Nothing great. Two coffee shops, a sandwich place, a fusion Asian food restaurant,” she paused, thinking. “A cupcake shop, a barber shop, and a bar.” A second later, she added, “Oh yeah, and a 7-Eleven.”
Richard smiled slightly. “I thought we were screwed - pardon my French - but the 7-Eleven might, just might have what we need.” He described it to her in detail, telling her to grab two if they had more than one.
Taking a deep breath, Sarah checked her handgun, then nodded at the others and moved towards the back of the truck again.
“Wait,” Jennifer said, stopping her. “I’m coming with you.”
“But someone needs to stay here,” Sarah protested.
The young woman shook her head. “To do what? Lock the door? Jason here can do that, right, young man?”
The young boy nodded enthusiastically.
Sarah hesitated, chewing her lip. She hated the thought of leaving the children with Richard when the man was unable to move his legs. There would be no one to fight off any intruders.
Then again, as Richard pointed out, once the doors were closed, no one was getting in.
And from what Richard had told her, the items she would be looking for were heavy, and if she were grabbing two, she wouldn’t have a hand free to carry her gun.
‘Backup would be good,’ she said to herself.
“Okay,” she relented, nodding. Turning to Jason, she gave the boy explicit directions on how to lock and unlock the door, then described exactly how she would knock - two knocks, then a pause, then three more - to him and Richard. When she was confident her son would know when and how to open the secured door, she hugged each of her children and exited the big truck, followed by Jennifer.
They hesitated outside the truck until they heard the sound of the lock engaging, then nodded at each other before peeking out from behind the truck. Nothing had changed on their block, as the same cars and trucks still remained where they’d been left, still covered in the dust and grime that settled on cars left outside for multiple days in a bay area city.
Looking further down the street, they saw nothing other than the lowrider parked alongside the curb that had been there when they’d left the SUV.
Sarah waited patiently as she watched the street, when she was satisfied, she said, “Let’s go,” then began heading across the street in the direction of the 7-Eleven. Jennifer fell in beside her, keeping pace with her as she scanned the area, continuing to look for danger.
When they reached the entrance to the 7-Eleven, they found that the glass doors had been smashed inward, leaving a pile of broken glass on the doormat. The interior of the store was dim, lit only by the light that came from outside, but from all indications it was devoid of people. Nevertheless, they remained cautious as they entered the store, splitting up so that they could each cover two of the four aisles that led to the back of the store.
Once they were certain the store was clear, they relaxed, exhaling almost in unison.
As they’d agreed, Jennifer moved to the door to keep an eye out for trouble while Sarah set about looking for items of value and the item they’d come for. The shelves were almost completely empty, as were the coolers that lined the side and rear walls of the store. Using a reusable shopping bag she’d found at the counter by the register, she grabbed the few items of worth that still remained on the shelves: three small cans of Dinty Moore beef stew, two single-sleeve boxes of saltine crackers, a handful of Crystal Light drink mix packets, a pack of Bicycle playing cards, and, somehow, on the bottom shelf of the pastry rack and towards the back, four Otis Spunkmeyer cinnamon rolls.
‘The kids will love these…’ she thought, smiling.
Moving farther down the aisle, she found the ‘automotive section’, which was all of two feet wide and three shelves high. Tire pressure gages, cell phone mounts, air fresheners, fuzzy dice to hang from the mirror, and funnels covered the first shelf and the small hanging racks above it, while plastic jugs of motor oil, transmission fluid, and brake fluid filled the second shelf. Feeling her hope fading rapidly, she looked towards the bottom shelf. Small car jacks occupied half the shelf, while the space next to it appeared empty.
When her eyes saw the writing on the label under the empty space, her heart sank.
Portable Battery Jump Starter $119.99
“Shit…” she muttered, lowering her head and shaking it in disappointment.
Knowing in her heart it was pointless, she bent down and looked into the shelving area to make sure it was empty. At first glance it was, and she was in the process of standing back up when something caught her eye.
In an effort to make the shelf appear full - a basic requirement for retail stores - someone had put a charger behind the small c
ar jack.
“Yes!” she exclaimed aloud, garnering a look from Jennifer at the front of the store.
“Found one?”
Sarah pulled the charger from the shelf and lifted it up, smiling. “Jackpot,” she said.
“Awesome,” the younger woman replied, smiling as well. “Now, let’s just hope it works.”
Lifting up the bag, Sarah said, “If it does, I’ve got just the thing to celebrate with.”
Jennifer looked dubious.
“Cinnamon buns,” Sarah explained as she walked towards where the dark-haired woman waited.
Jennifer smiled broadly in response. “Okay, just to be clear: I’m eating one, regardless of whether or not this thing works.”
“Fair enough,” she replied, passing the bag to her.
Together, the two of them exited the store and quickly made their way back to the armored truck. The streets were still empty and quiet, with the loan exception of a grey and white cat that picked at the contents of a small paper bag on the sidewalk. Feeling bad, Sarah detoured briefly, getting the attention of the cat. As the scruffy feline watched, Sarah peeled back the top of one of the cans of beef stew, then set it on the ground. Knowing the cat would approach until after they’d left, she returned to where Jennifer waited.
At the truck, she told Richard of their success, then she and Jennifer listened intently to the directions he gave them on how to use the device to charge the big vehicle’s battery. It was uncertain if the thing would have enough power to provide a sufficient charge, but it was the best option they had, and it was immeasurably better than doing nothing.
With Jennifer at her side, Sarah got out and moved to the truck’s front cabin, where she removed the key from the ignition, stuffing it in her pocket, then used the lever under the dash to pop the hood open. Hopping out, she made her way to the front of the vehicle, climbed up onto the bumper, and raised the hood.
Surviving Rage | Book 4 Page 19
