“It’s ready,” she said, smiling. “Wanna blow it now, or should I give them one final warning?”
The Scorpion considered her choices. She knew Lizette was eager to blow the truck up, but Samantha also wanted the young woman to take on more of the role she was grooming her for: her Vice. She wanted Lizette to be the leader she knew the beautiful young woman was capable of being.
Which meant the woman needed to see that she was trusting her to handle things.
“Tell you what, go back there and give them one last chance. If they don’t take it, we’ll blow it.”
“Okay,” the lithe Latina spun on her heel and walked back towards the armored truck, holding the cell phone in her hand. Barely able to contain her excitement, she bounced on the balls of her feet as she walked, her pony tail swinging back and forth as she moved gracefully.
After banging on the door, she yelled, “Alright you pieces of shit! Open the fuck up or I’m going to blow this damn truck into a million pieces!” Looking at the cell phone in her hand, she smiled. “And believe me, I would love to do it!”
She waited for a response.
After a moment, a voice called out from inside the truck.
“Wait!”
Knowing the Scorpion and the others were too far away to hear the muffled voice, she stepped out from behind the truck, looked in their direction, and shook her head.
Turning back towards the armored truck, she smiled.
“Alright! Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”
With that, she walked away happily, heading back towards the SUV.
“It’s a go!” she yelled, smiling.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Palo Alto, California
“Alright you pieces of shit! Open the fuck up or I’m going to blow this damn truck into a million pieces!”
Watching from where they were near the corner of Middlefield and Embarcadero Road, Daniel and Paul couldn’t believe what they were hearing. The two of them had been in the process of sneaking across the street when they’d seen the commotion by the armored truck. Sensing something bad was about to happen, they crouched down behind a dust-covered Honda crossover vehicle on the west side of the street and watched as the young woman had retrieved what appeared to be some type of explosive device from inside the back of the Mercedes SUV. Setting it on the street near the truck, she made a few adjustments to it before flicking on a switch and verifying something on the phone she’d been holding. Smiling and nodding, she slid the device under the truck before telling the people in the SUV that the device was ready.
A few seconds later, she was back behind the truck, banging on the door before demanding those inside open up.
“And believe me, I would love to do it!” the Latina added, before pausing to listen by the back of the truck.
Though he wasn’t certain, Daniel could have sworn he heard some kind of response from inside the truck.
The slim woman turned away from the armored truck and smiled.
“Alright! Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”
With that, she walked away happily, heading back towards the SUV.
“Shit, she’s going to kill the people inside that truck!” Paul whispered, his eyes wide with panic.
“I know,” Daniel replied quietly, shaking his head as he checked his gun. “We can’t let this happen.” Looking at where the woman was, he added, “She’s trying to get clear of the blast zone. Once she’s inside that SUV, we won’t be able to stop it.” Before he moved over and rested his arms atop the SUV’s hood, steadying his aim as he aimed the gun.
The woman was an amorphous blur.
Unable to focus from that distance, he cursed under his breath as he heard the woman yell, “It’s a go!”
Lowering the gun in defeat, he felt helpless as he watched the blurred form of the woman approach the SUV, bouncing on her toes in happiness as she held the cell phone detonator in her hand.
A zipping sound came from his right a second before an arrow lodged in the Latina’s side, its front half disappearing into her ribcage.
The young woman’s mouth opened in shock as she tried to process what had just occurred, looking down at where the arrow was embedded in her side in disbelief. Dropping the phone she held, she fell to her knees. Looking back into the SUV, she spoke to someone within.
Those would be her final words.
She fell forward, making no effort to catch herself as she crashed face-first into the pavement.
Inside the SUV, a woman screamed.
“Nooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!”
“Holy shit,” Daniel muttered in disbelief. Looking over at Paul, he saw the teenager’s face had turned pale in the realization of what he’d done.
Standing up, Daniel grabbed the young man’s arm. “You did the right thing,” he said, staring intently into Paul’s eyes. Nodding with finality, he added, “Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Knowing he couldn’t lead the people in the SUV in the direction of Serafina and the girls, he darted forward, leading Paul across the intersection and onto Embarcadero Road, heading east, towards the bay.
They were on the run again, and their legs were already spent.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Palo Alto, California
When Lizette’s mouth fell open in shock, time stood still.
Confusion grabbed hold of the Scorpion’s mind, leaving her unable to recognize what had just happened. Sitting in the back row of the SUV, she hadn’t heard the arrow when it embedded itself in her partner’s side. Realizing that something was wrong, she leaned forward and looked more closely at Lizette, her eyes landed on the shaft of the arrow protruding from the woman’s ribs.
‘That can’t be…’ she thought immediately. ‘An arrow? Who the fuck is running around with a bow and arrow?!’
All of this passed through her mind as her eyes made their way up to her lover’s face.
When their eyes met, Samantha not only knew it was serious, but that it was really, really bad. In the years they’d known each other, she’d seen all sorts of emotions in the woman’s eyes: anger, happiness, mischief, seriousness, lust, intensity, relaxation, disgust, and much more had been shared between them.
She’d even seen sadness in Lizette’s eyes once, when the two of them found a small poodle that had been left inside a car, abandoned during the outbreak. The dog had died, its small body left stiff and dry, stuck to the seat of the car in the sweltering internal heat of the vehicle. When tears formed in Lizette's eyes, Samantha had assumed that she’d been seeing things. When the woman brought up one of her thin, delicate hands to wipe away the moisture, she realized her lover had shared a new emotion with her.
This was like that, but different.
It seemed like time stood still as fear washed over the shock in the woman’s eyes, making her seem even younger; a scared girl, wondering if something could take away the unexpected emotion.
Correction: not something, someone.
Her voice trembled as she called out to the Scorpion.
“Sammie….”
She fell forward limply, not trying to catch herself as she fell. Her chest and face slapped against the pavement with a soft smacking sound.
The Scorpion screamed.
“Nooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!”
Clint was next to Lizette in an instant, reaching down to gently pull on the young woman’s shoulder, turning her over. The Scorpion rushed out of the SUV, shoving Clint aside as she crouched down next to Lizette.
“Baby!” she cried, bringing her hand to the woman’s face. Lizette’s eyes were glazed over, the skin of her face clammy to Samantha’s touch.
“Hurts…” Lizette managed, coughing up blood. It ran down the side of her face, pooling underneath her head.
Looking down at where the arrow remained in Lizette’s side, the Scorpion felt something else new: Helplessness.
She knew she couldn’t remove the arrow without doing more damage, but she also knew the arrow was hurtin
g the woman she loved more than anything in the world.
Somewhere nearby, a gun was being fired repeatedly.
She ignored it, caring about nothing more than the sight of her beautiful, wonderful, loving partner.
“I….” she began. Unable to find words to follow, she settled on, “I’m sorry, baby.”
Lizette coughed again, spitting out an obscene amount of blood.
Her eyes met Samantha’s again. “L-l-love….you….”
Then she was gone.
Gone before Samantha could respond, before she could tell her that she loved her, too, before she could say that no one had ever, ever meant more to her than she had.
The Scorpion collapsed, burying her head against her mate’s chest. She sobbed silently, grabbing some of the woman’s hair and bringing it to her nose so that she could enjoy her scent once more.
Remaining silent, Clint and Mario stood by her side, their guns drawn as they watched for threats.
After several long moments, the Scorpion rose from where she knelt. When her eyes met theirs, they saw something they were much more familiar and comfortable with.
Fury.
“New plan.” She stated, her voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “We find the person who did this, and we make them FUCKING PAY!” she screamed.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Redwood City, California
Steve Sommer lit another cigarette as he sat on the roof of the medical building, looking out over the city and the bay. Sitting atop one of the metal boxes that housed the ventilation fans, he enjoyed the feel of the sun on his face and the distinctively cleaner air he breathed in between puffs.
Next to him, Hank leaned over as he spoke. “You know, Steve, I’ve got a little something special to celebrate when we’re done.”
Sommer looked over at the man skeptically. Raising his chin, he asked, “Whaddaya got?”
Hank smiled as he reached into an inside pocket on his leather vest. When he withdrew his hand, he held two Cuban cigars. Separating them, he passed one over to the other man.
Sommer nodded appreciatively as he accepted it. Examining the long, tightly rolled tube of tobacco, he said. “Romeo and Juliet, nice.”
“Yeah,” Hank replied, holding the one he held up to admire it. “Those dirty fuckers do know how to do one thing right.”
“Fuckin’ commies,” Sommer said, shaking his head. Looking over at his longtime friend, he held up the cigar. “I’m gonna hold on to this for now.”
“I know. We’re not done yet.”
“Exactly.”
“Sucks about Randall,” Hank began carefully.
“Yeah,” Sommer replied, stuffing the cigar into the front pocket of his shirt. “He was a risk, though. Sometimes those ‘things’ turn quickly, sometimes it takes a while for them to turn. Can’t take that risk.” He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaled, then went on. “Once I saw that bridge had been knocked out, I decided to remove the risk.” Turning to look at Hank, he said, “Honestly, I was thinking of sending you with him to cover the bridge, just in case he turned. You’d be able to put him down, then cover the crossing.”
Disappointed, Hank nodded but said nothing.
Sommer nudged him with his elbow. “Hey, I’m glad it didn’t come to that. I want you here for this. We’ll take care of it together. It’ll be epic.”
Looking over at the gear they’d brought, Hank smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too.” After a moment, he added, “By now, Trent and Graham should be in position, too.”
The two men sat in silence for a bit, before Sommer stood up.
“Gotta take a leak.”
Turning away, he walked over to a spot on the other side of where the stairs opened out onto the roof. On a whim, he walked over to the edge and looked down at the parking lot. Five stories below, a BMW 7-series sedan with giant tires and rims, pitch black windows, and a deep purple glitter paint finish sat parked close to the building.
Grinning, he pulled out his penis and began urinating off the side of the building, trying to aim his stream at the car.
“Fucking niggers,” he muttered, leaning back in an effort to get a better trajectory.
He’d managed to splatter the vehicle a few times when he heard a low humming sound.
“Steve!! Get back here!”
“Dammit!” he muttered, forcing his bladder to hold what was left before stuffing his penis back into his pants.
Turning back to where he’d been standing he saw Hank pointing off to the south.
At the horizon.
Rushing forward, he ran to where his friend was and stopped, skidding slightly on the small pebbles that covered the rooftop. Looking at the skyline, he saw a massive grey military aircraft was inbound, headed on a trajectory that would take it directly in front of them on its way to San Francisco International Airport.
“Fucking perfect,” he said aloud, smiling as he nodded.
“You called it, boss,” Hank said, watching the aircraft as well.
“It’s go time,” Sommer said, reaching down for the weapon he’d brought with him. Pointing at Hank’s identical one, he asked, “You remember what I showed you?”
Bending down to grab the weapon, Hank smiled even more broadly. “Definitely. I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Sommer grabbed the weapon, using his strength to hoist the 34-pound unit up onto his shoulder. Composed of a five-foot long green cylinder with a footlong square attached near one end, the FIM-92 Stinger Missile was both lightweight and highly effective at taking down aircraft.
Especially one as big and as slow as the one inbound.
Unfolding the Identify Friend or Foe (IFF) transponder (which he’d disabled), he lowered the sighting device into position, then moved the weapon on his shoulder slightly, finding a comfortable spot for it.
Nearly ready to fire, he looked over at Hank. The man had mimicked his movements and was ready for the go ahead.
“Alright,” Sommer began, “when the aircraft is even with the Dumbarton, pull the trigger.”
“Got it.”
“When the pilots see your missile inbound, they’ll deploy flares, trying to draw it away. They’ll be surprised by the attack, so they’ll instinctively use all the flares they’ve got.” Smiling, he added: “That’s when I’ll launch mine.”
“Fuckin’ brilliant, man.” Hank said, shaking his head.
“Damn straight. Alright, let’s do this.”
Sommer reached down and grabbed a Battery Coolant Unit (BCU) and slapped it into the gripstock. With the BCU inserted, he’d only have 45-seconds to fire the unit, but it didn’t matter.
They wouldn’t need half that.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Over Central California
“Alright, folks, time to wake up,” Tech Sergeant Andrews said through the speakers in their ears. “We’re about thirty minutes out. Let’s make sure things are fully secured and stowed for landing.”
Standing wearily on tired legs, Andrews held onto the tether overhead as he looked down at them. Glad that they were finally arriving after spending over 13 hours on a mission that was supposed to take eight, he smiled, feeling relieved.
Looking up at the man, Reed felt a little guilty at being better rested than the others were, but knew there was little that he could have done to help with the refueling effort the men had endured at Creech Air Force Base.
“Roger that,” Sergeant Mason replied, reaching up and rubbing his eyes with one hand.
On the other side of Reed, McGhee tried to stretch, leaning side to side in his seat, his face grimacing as he tried to get his muscles to relax.
Looking at either man, Reed saw the fatigue on their faces. When they finally climbed into the aircraft after completing the refueling effort, all three of them had looked nearly dead on their feet and stunk of jet fuel. The bone-weariness hadn’t gone away, and neither had the smell.
A shower would be greatly
beneficial, not only for them, but for those around them.
Reed looked across to where Steight remained secured in her crate and found the dog looking at him with hopeful eyes.
“Not much longer, Steight. Hang in there,” he said, smiling.
“Damn, I’m tired,” McGhee said, distracting Reed, The big man shook his head. “It’s gonna feel good to be on the ground a bit,” he said, nodding.
“Yeah,” Reed replied, feeling the aircraft begin to descend, “but it might not be long. Probably not more than a few hours. Too much on the line.” Leaning over, he looked out the window. San Jose was directly below them. Ahead, he could see the sparkling reflection of the bay. “But yeah, it’ll definitely feel good while it lasts.”
“Definitely,” McGhee said, nodding.
Looking back at Steight, Reed noticed one of the straps that secured her crate to the deck had come loose. The dog looked at the strap then at him.
Had she been trying to tell him?
“Shit,” he began, leaning forward. He tried to reach the strap, but it was just out of reach. Frustrated, he moved to undo his harness. He didn’t want the crate coming loose during the landing.
“Let me get it, Doc,” McGhee said, reaching out to stop him. Grinning, he added, “Gives me an excuse to stretch my legs.”
In the cockpit, First Lieutenant Knight keyed the mic as he spoke to the control tower at San Francisco International. “San Francisco Control, this is Eagle One Three Five, over.”
“Eagle One Three Five, this is San Francisco Control, read you Lima Charlie, over.”
Lieutenant Knight smiled, breathing a small sigh of relief. As an admittedly new pilot, he was nervous about literally everything. The term ‘Lima Charlie’ meant ‘Loud & Clear’, so at least communications wouldn’t be an issue during their landing.
Surviving Rage | Book 4 Page 23
