Brink of Extinction | Book 2 | Stay Alive
Page 12
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s here,” Jackal said, slowing the jeep as we rolled through the center of town.
“That’s good for us. Let’s hope it stays that way.” I scanned the street ahead and the alleys we passed by.
Jackal slammed the brakes. The jeep came to a skidding halt. My hands pressed to the dash. I glanced his way.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.
He pointed out the driver’s side window at a dark-brown brick building. The sign above the door read Rick’s Footlocker and Surplus Shop. “That might be as good of a place as any to check out. They may have some gear we can use.”
I skimmed over the shop and the planks of crooked boards that covered the windows. They’d done a haphazard job of securing the contents in the store. “I don’t see much else around that’s worth looking into.” I pointed out an opening between the buildings ahead of us. “Pull down that alley there, and we’ll take a closer look and see what they’ve got.”
“Roger that.” Jackal rolled past the shop and drove down the street to the alley. He turned down the narrow passageway past the corners of both structures on either side of us and stopped. He killed the engine and removed the keys from the ignition.
“Let’s hurry up and check this out.” I slipped the goggles over my eyes, pulled the hood up, then opened the door.
We exited the jeep and funneled down the side of the building to the corner. Jackal carried his rifle close to his chest, barrel trained at the ground. I had the heater clutched in my hands, fingers wrapped around the grip.
Jackal toed the edge, then checked the way we came. I scanned over the buildings across the road, then craned my neck, looking down the long stretch of street that went through the remainder of town. I tapped his shoulder.
He gave a thumbs up and skirted past the edge.
We made our way down the sidewalk at a good clip, passing the boarded-up businesses. Headlights up the street cut through the ash.
Jackal took cover inside the entryway of an accounting office. His bulky frame wedged between the door and the corner of the brick. He shouldered the rifle and brought it to bear.
I hung back, then dropped to one knee on the other side of the door. The car came closer, then turned down one of the side streets, leaving the area. We got back on the move and double timed it to the surplus shop.
Jackal approached the front entrance, slowly with his weapon trained ahead of him. He lowered the rifle and skimmed over the door. I stood at his back, watching the street and surrounding buildings, then turned toward him.
“Well?” I asked.
“Looks like someone’s already been inside,” he replied, pointing at the busted glass square in the bottom corner near the doorknob.
The plank of wood covering the window along the bottom panes from the inside had been pushed out from the door. The wood around the glass had chunks of its surface ripped out.
“Keep your eyes peeled in case anyone’s still inside,” I said, studying the damage.
Jackal grabbed the doorknob, then turned. The door opened with ease. He brought his rifle to bear, then slipped inside.
I followed him, closing the door behind us. A stale smell assaulted my nose, making it scrunch. I moved the goggles up to my forehead. Glass crunched under our feet, echoing throughout the silent space. I listened for movement, but detected none.
I retrieved the flashlight from the pocket of my coat and thumbed the switch. The beam washed over the shelves and racks of clothes that cluttered the shop. A variety of rucksacks hung along the far wall among the other items stocked.
“All right. Let’s split and gather what we can. We need to see if they have any type of masks we can use,” I said, training the light at Jackal.
“Copy that.”
Jackal took one side of the shop, skirting past the end of a shelf and vanishing from my sight.
I worked my way around the racks of army fatigues and other clothes, scouting for any items we could use. The shelves I passed had empty spaces with little to no merchandise on them. A small number of ammo cans lay on their sides. Other various hardware hung on hooks attached to pegboards.
A glass display case that dubbed as the sales counter along the wall came into view. I shone the light over the case, finding a few pistols and knives that lay scattered about on the glass shelves.
The front had been busted out with more glass covering the tile floor. I skimmed over the counter near the register, then along the back wall. Stacks of boxes ran the length toward the back corner of the shop.
I turned away from the counter and spotted a rack with what looked to have a few maps stocked in the steel slots. I stepped over the shards of busted glass and sifted through the variety of maps.
“You find anything of use?” Jackal asked from across the shop. “I haven’t found much. I grabbed an extra flashlight, a rucksack, and a few boxes of ammo that hadn’t been taken. No masks that I can see. Glad we took the coats from those two guys in the plane. Looks like we would’ve been hard pressed to find any.”
“I found some maps of the area.” I spun the rack around, pulling out a Nevada state map and one of the entire country. I took them over to the glass case and unfolded both. I smoothed out the creases in the maps, shone the light over the one for Nevada, then searched for Elko. I spotted the town, then traced my finger along Interstate 80 toward the Utah state line.
Jackal walked up behind me, tossed the rucksack on the glass counter top, then stared at the map. “How far away are we from Salt Lake City?”
“Doesn’t look too far from what I can tell.” I pointed out Interstate 80 on the map. “If we take the interstate there, that’ll take us right to Salt Lake City. The last known coordinates for the plane are around there as well.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jackal said, nodding. “So what, maybe three hours or so drive time barring any mishaps.”
I looked at Jackal. “Probably faster than that if we push it. I figure we fuel up and hit the–” A hint of what looked to be light flashed from the window, catching my attention. I glanced toward the front of the store.
“What is it?” Jackal asked, raising his brow.
“I thought I spotted some movement outside.”
A beam of light shone through the planks of wood that covered the window, then the door.
I folded the maps, then stuffed them into the rucksack on the counter. “Shit. We may have some company.”
Jackal turned and faced the front of the store. The white light moved from the window to the door, then back again. A shadowy figure moved across the window, heading for the entrance.
I thumbed the switch on the flashlight, turning it off. Jackal wrenched the rucksack from the counter and secured it on his back. He moved across the store, fading into the dimness.
The light bled through the boards covering the door, then dropped down to the missing glass in the bottom corner. I stayed low and took cover at the end of a shelving unit as the light moved across a rack of clothes near me.
I peeked around the corner of the shelf, watching the entrance to the shop. My hand tightened over the grip of the heater, my finger pressed against the side of the trigger guard.
The light moved away from the busted glass. The door creaked open. A man stood inside the entrance, dressed in similar tactical garb as the two we’d encountered on the road but with a slight difference. The Arctic-colored vest he wore had a red skull and a coiled snake painted on the front. He clutched the assault rifle with both gloved hands, then swept the store with the gun-mounted flashlight latched under the barrel.
How did they track us down?
A truck drove by, then stopped in the middle of the street. The man’s bulk blocked the entrance and most of the vehicle. He turned toward the road, then pointed to the interior of the store.
Two more men ran up behind Snake, flanking him on either side. They advanced inside the shop with rifles shouldered and lights turned on. The truck pulled away.
The door to the shop remained open. The whistling of the wind played as background noise to the armed militants funneling through the shop.
They drew closer, lights shinning off the floor and along the walls. My head turned to either side of the aisle.
A subtle clanging noise sounded from inside the shop near Jackal’s location. The armed men stopped dead in their tracks. The lights moved away from the aisle toward the far wall.
I peeked around the corner, watching as the armed man pointed to his mask, then to the direction the noise occurred. He placed his hand over his ear with his back to me.
Thunder rolled through the sky, rattling the building. Snake glanced up at the ceiling, then nodded. I turned and peered down the other side of the aisle, spotting the other Arctic gunman working his way through the racks of clothes.
I stayed low, hidden from sight, waiting for my moment to strike if need be.
“Contact,” a muffled voice shouted.
Gunfire echoed inside the store, followed by a crashing sound. I turned toward the noise, spotting a white light playing over the ceiling, then vanishing.
Shit. Jackal.
Snake double timed it down the aisle, moving fast. I fired a single round, hitting him square in the back. He tumbled forward to the floor, hitting hard. Snake stirred on the ground, signaling he wasn’t dead.
Heavy footfalls rushed toward me down the other side of the aisle. A rifle barked from close by, firing at the steel shelves near me. I couldn’t spot the triggerman within the low light.
The rounds pinged off the surface. I covered my head, waiting for the shooting to cease.
I retrieved the Push Dagger from my coat as the gunfire ceased. I popped off two rounds in his direction before the heater clicked empty. I tossed the piece, then spun around the corner of the shelf.
He hunched over. The barrel of the rifle trained toward the floor as he palmed his ribs. He stumbled about, his gaze flitting up to me. I closed in fast and went to work.
The rifle lifted in my direction. I kicked it to the side. He squeezed the trigger. Another round fired, pinging off the tile floor. I stabbed him in the side, below the ballistic vest.
The blade sunk into his body. I pulled it out and struck again. I caught a hint of his pain-riddled face through the mask he wore.
He landed a glancing blow across my jaw, then shoved me back before collapsing to one knee. I grabbed the strap of his rifle and yanked it from his body. His palm pressed to the floor, head dangling before me.
Snake emerged from the other end of the aisle, his rifle shouldered and trained in my direction. The light from his gun washed over my face.
I retreated. Snake opened fire. I moved through the cluttered mess of the shop while covering my head. The incoming rounds chased after me, destroying what remained of the glass display case.
I hit the floor and hid behind an empty steel shelf. I sat flat on my ass and slouched against the rack. Bullets pinged off the surface while some punched through the peg board above my head.
The gunfire stopped. A slight ringing filled both of my ears. I held the rifle close, glancing to either side for any shadowy figures advancing through the low light.
The grumbling of an engine lurked from outside the store. Tires squealed. Chatter among the militant men loomed inside the shop. They held back near the front of the store.
I got my feet under me, staying low and out of range of their weapons. I pocketed the dagger and toed the edge.
“Get your damn hands off me,” Jackal said angrily.
I captured snippets of bodies moving past the racks of clothes and shelves that sat in my way. The beams of light traced around the open door, then down the aisle in my direction.
Jackal stood at the far end of the aisle. One of the foot soldiers stood at his six, holding him at gun point. The muzzle of the soldier’s sidearm pressed to Jackal’s temple. He stood a few inches taller than Jackal and peered over his shoulder. The gas mask hid his face, making him appear sinister.
“Throw your weapons down and come out with your hands up, or I’m going to decorate the floor with his brains, then I’m coming back there for you.” The mask distorted his voice.
“Don’t do it.” Jackal pulled his head away from the barrel. “There’s only—”
The foot soldier slammed the side of his pistol against Jackal’s skull. “Shut it.”
I shouldered the rifle, but stayed behind the cover of the aisle, assessing the situation.
Snake carried the man I’d stabbed and shot through the opening, taking the brunt of his bulk across his shoulders. Another vehicle came to a screeching halt next to the idling truck. Two more men rushed the entrance with rifles shouldered and held positions near Jackal and the foot soldier holding him.
“What’s the play here, Charlie?” one of the armed men asked, looking to the masked man holding Jackal at gun point.
Charlie held up his hand, silencing any further chatter.
“How about this? You let my partner go and we won’t kill all of your men,” I shot back. “I can promise you this, you have no idea who you’re messing with. Leave now before you suffer further losses.”
The muzzle pressed harder against Jackal’s head. “I’m afraid you don’t know who you’re messing with, but rest assured, you will find out. One does not simply walk away when his kin and brothers in arms have been slain.”
“Will you kill him already?” Jackal said, unafraid. “I’m growing tired of listening to him drone on and on.”
Charlie removed the muzzle from the side of Jackal’s head, then lifted his arm into the air. “I said, shut your—”
Jackal turned and rammed his elbow into the man’s face, knocking him off balance. The pistol discharged. The round punched the ceiling above Jackal’s head.
I searched for a shot, but couldn’t find one with Jackal blocking my way.
Charlie blocked Jackal’s right cross, knocked his arm down, kneed him in the gut, then hammered Jackal’s chin with his fist. Jackal stumbled backward, then hit the floor, dazed.
I locked onto Charlie’s head. A beam of white light trained at my chest. I glanced to the side for a split second.
The reinforcements had me in their sights. I turned and fired, keeping them at bay.
Charlie opened fire down the long stretch of aisle, pushing me back to the cover of the shelves. I waited a moment, leaned out from the aisle, then returned fire. I grazed the outside of the Charlie’s arm that wielded the gun. He lowered the piece and palmed the wound.
The militant group retreated out of the store, taking Jackal with them. Charlie nodded at the end of the aisle, then pointed a stern finger at me as his men shielded his body with theirs.
He left the confines of the store, leaving me alone with the remainder of his goons.
The gun-mounted lights swept the battered shop. I killed the light on the rifle, and faded into the darkness of the store as I waited for the armed men to come get me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SCARFACE
I lost sight of Jackal and Charlie within the chaos and meld of men that took him from the store. The truck pulled away, but the other vehicle remained.
The armed men funneled down the aisles, searching for me. I glanced toward the rear of the shop. My eyes adjusted to the low light, allowing me to see a bit better. I spotted what looked to be an opening in the back of the store. A door, maybe.
A flashlight dangled from a hook attached to the pegboard of the shelf next to me. I ripped it from the hook, then dropped back behind a rack of clothing. I flung the flashlight across the store. It hit with a dense thud.
The armed militants paused, turned, then changed course, heading for the diversion.
I drifted back and worked
my way through the dimness to the dark opening. My body weaved through the maze of displays and other items that cluttered the floor. My arm nudged a stack of boxes, knocking them over. They smashed and clattered down on top of each other.
“He’s heading toward the rear of the store,” a muffled voice said aloud.
The lights trained in my direction like lasers, cutting through the blackness with ease. I ran hard and fast, plowing through any items that stood in my way.
My feet tangled. I lost my balance and fell to the floor.
Their feet pounded the tile floor. I hurried to my feet and slipped through a narrow opening between two display cases that ran along the back wall. My hip caught the sharp corner of one of the cases. I stumbled behind the glass display and fell to the ground.
The inbound militants opened fire, hammering the back wall and glass case. Drywall tore apart. Glass shattered. Tiny shards of glass rained down on me. I covered my head.
The gunfire ebbed. I sat up, got to my feet, and returned fire. The militants scattered like roaches. My back hit the side of the doorframe.
I felt to the side with my free hand and pushed. The door moved, swinging inward. I slid through the doorway, emptying the magazine.
Shadowy silhouettes emerged through the darkness–lights trained in my direction. I pushed through the swinging door into the stock room of the shop. They opened fire once more.
I fumbled my way through the blinding darkness. Round after round punched through the door. The heavy footfalls stalking me through the shop closed in.
The light from the rifle washed over the emergency exit. I ran past empty boxes and other merchandise stocked in the backroom, heading for the only way out of the building.
The swinging door flung open, slamming against the wall. I stayed the course, running hard. Beams of light shone over both of my shoulders. The loud hammering of gunfire resumed.
I closed in on the door and pushed my way through it. I stumbled outside, bullets slipping past my head and shoulders. I slammed the door shut, then ran the length of the building in the direction of the jeep.