Impact Series Box Set | Books 1-6

by Isherwood, E. E.

  Not far ahead, the line of lights ended.

  “We’re almost at the end, I think,” he said, though he was unsure. The river went around a bend to the left, and it was mercifully dark there, but he wasn’t prepared to say it would be any safer. It seemed like a trap.

  More bullets impacted his pontoons. He imagined them skimming by his head. Under his chin. Through the railing.

  “Stay down!” he yelled.

  A fury of explosions ripped the sky above, as if the fireworks people gave it one last finale to try to stop his boat. Guns discharged in winks of light from many places along the shore. He saw them as flash bulbs in his periphery.

  “A little more,” he begged of Susan’s Grace.

  The darkness ahead beckoned. As he rounded the bend at fifty miles an hour, the fireworks faded along with the gunfire, but the watery path ahead wasn’t much better.

  “What. Is. That?” Haley snarked.

  Ezra’s hand hovered over the throttle, again unsure if the sight ahead called for them to go faster or slower.

  They’d found the reason for all the excitement.

  Denver, CO

  Petteri fired every round in his gun. The entire time he discharged his weapon, a dozen other guns fired through the dark room, every one sounding close enough to be inside his ear drum. Mr. Aarons told him to fire at anyone coming inside the room, and he’d done as instructed. What hadn’t been explained to him was what he was supposed to do when he ran out of bullets. When he fired the last round, he thought about it for a few seconds, then chucked the gun in the direction of the door.

  Dorothy was crying on the floor nearby, but he wasn’t going to go out like that. He marshaled every ounce of his composure and stood in the darkness, ready to take it like a great leader.

  Seconds went by. The spray of gunfire became a trickle.

  His ears rang like Sunday church bells, but he caught a snippet of Mr. Aarons yelling to his men. He sounded close.

  “Are you okay?” a voice asked from directly next to him. “Damn! You stood on your feet through that attack? Hardcore, sir.”

  “Mr. Aarons?” he said with surprise.

  “I’m going to turn on the lights. Don’t shoot me.”

  “I won’t,” he replied, trying to hide how helpless he felt. The other man seemed to thrive in the darkness.

  When the lights came on, Dorothy gasped. A dozen armed men, each with the word Police stenciled on their backs, were on the floor. Aarons and his men stood above them, their night-vision goggles shoved up over their heads.

  He brushed himself off. “You planned this?”

  Aarons beamed. “This was Howard’s idea. I just did like he taught me. He said there was a greater than zero chance the local police would figure out this building was your headquarters. He also worried they would try sending a S.W.A.T. team to decapitate your operation here in the city. He set up this floor to cut all power to the lighting as well as bathe it in a low dose of infrared light so his team could see the enemy. It was a trap sprung to perfection.” Aarons kicked one of the dead policemen.

  Petteri experienced a mix of emotions. There was the huge hole created by the loss of his number two, Howard. The guy had planned for everything. He was happy to see Aarons carrying on Howard’s tradition. Obviously, he was pleased to have survived the attack. However, he couldn’t go to war with the mayor of a city. It would set a bad trend.

  “What do we do next?” he asked his security chief. Petteri decided he had to trust him.

  “Sir, I think we’re safe for the time being. The streets outside are still chaotic. They probably struggled to put together this breach team. You can carry out your business tonight. However, once the sun rises on the streets, we’ll have to reevaluate.”

  “Do you think it would help if I called the mayor?” He wanted to chew her a new one, but also to prove the attack had failed.

  Aarons shrugged. “You’re in charge of politics. I wouldn’t tell her about this.” He pointed to the men on the floor.

  Petteri tapped Dorothy on the shoulder. She remained on the floor, crouched with her head between her legs as if prepared for a tornado, rather than bullets. The dark-haired woman looked up with wet cheeks. “Are we safe?”

  He smiled. “Stick with me. No one is going to hurt you.”

  She reached for his hand, hesitating for a second, then relenting. “Thanks.”

  Petteri basked in the glory of being a hero.

  Chapter 17

  Somewhere in Central Wyoming

  “What happened?” Grace asked as she ran up to Shawn Runs Hard, Logan, and Diedre.

  Logan spoke first. “My dad heard the chopper coming. Made us jump off the side of the train. It was pretty sweet.”

  His father was more tempered. “How did the others fare? It looked terrible.”

  Asher hugged his sister, leaving her to answer. “I know one of the engineers was killed. I’m not sure about the others. I think a few were injured.” She turned around. “The wooden car is burning.”

  “Do they have any way to put it out?” the Crow leader pressed.

  “I don’t know. Robert is in the engine. I’m sure he sees the fire, but he isn’t doing anything about it. If anyone would know where to get fire suppression equipment, it would be him.” She absently glanced toward the horizon. The storm she’d seen before sunset was out there somewhere. If only it were over them. As it was, the fire was too big to use shirts to pat it out.

  “So, the train gets smaller,” Shawn said sadly.

  They walked back to the others, who now sat farther from the edge of the railroad grade. The fire had spread throughout the boxcar, and the intense blaze burned fast. The survivors were forced to go deep into the grass to avoid the heat.

  Robert appeared at the rear door of the engine compartment. “I’ve unhooked from the cars. I’m going to move up the line a little.”

  Grace waved at him.

  As the engine powered up and rolled away from the fire, she took a moment to scan the flat plains around them. The helicopter was nowhere to be seen, but there were a lot of cars on the nearby highway, as if the lead portion of a city’s rush hour were coming at them.

  “What do you make of that?” she asked whoever was around her.

  Logan stood up. “It looks like a race. Is there anything of value around here?”

  She thought immediately of the rock south of Yellowstone. The cars were heading west, which was the same way they were aimed. It was possible they were all going there, too. Or, perhaps they were getting away from somewhere else.

  “I think it’s nothing we have to worry about,” she said, trying to sound confident.

  A couple of minutes went by, but the cars were still there. To her eyes, it appeared as if they’d stopped, rather than being a slow-moving line. As she took more time to watch, she became convinced of it. “Maybe it’s the police come to check on reports of a truck being fire-bombed by a crazy helicopter on the interstate?”

  An engine’s whine surprised her. A truck appeared fifty yards away. It was coming at them from the direction of the highway. It had its lights off, suggesting it was trying to be sneaky.

  “Watch this truck!” she shouted to her friends.

  Logan picked up his rifle.

  Asher let go of Diedre and did the same.

  “Wait a second,” Shawn insisted. “I think I recognize that motor. It’s a Windsor seven-and-a-half liter V8 pushing two hundred forty-five horsepower. I’d recognize it anywhere.”

  “Really?” she said, shocked.

  He listened for a few more seconds as the truck got closer. There didn’t seem to be anything distinctive about it, but Shawn chuffed as if he’d solved a riddle. “It’s my brother-in-law’s ’85 F-150. He talks up the specs of that old piece of junk every chance he gets.”

  “Calvin Tames Horse?” she asked, remembering the man’s distinctive name. He’d been the mechanic who’d gotten her truck running properly. He’d also put the woo
den barricade in the back seat, welded on her rear door, and replaced some window glass. As much as anyone, he’d made the rest of her trip possible.

  “The one and only,” Shawn said, puffing out his chest.

  A white pickup truck came out of the darkness. She recognized it as the one Logan had used to drive her and Asher to the small piece of asteroid which had fallen on Crow lands.

  Logan and Shawn both waved. The driver put on his parking lights, illuminating the men. When he had parked, the skinny driver leaned out his window. “Logan? You there?”

  “I’m here,” the boy replied.

  Cal hopped out, obviously happy and excited. “I can’t believe we found you.”

  Logan ran over and hugged his uncle. “How the heck did you do it? We’re in the middle of nowhere right now.”

  When they separated, the skinny uncle came over to Shawn, who hadn’t moved. “His mother is with us.”

  Shawn held out his hand and shook with his brother-in-law.

  Calvin continued. “She’s not happy at what you’ve gotten her son into.”

  The Crow leader maintained his poise. “I’ll have to explain it to her. Things are more serious than any of you know. Who else is here? I need to tell you all what is coming our way.” He leaned to see around Calvin, expecting someone to be in the truck with him.

  Calvin pointed back toward the highway. “I brought the whole tribe.”

  Grace whistled in amazement. “All those lights are with you?” The traffic jam remained where it was. She assumed they were lined up for miles along the shoulder of the interstate.

  “Everyone who can carry a rifle. When the chairmen requests your presence, you mount your ride and hit the trail. We’re here to help.”

  They spoke with Calvin for several minutes about the logistics of getting the bulk of the tribe together. In return, Shawn explained their situation on the rails. The burning boxcar provided the backdrop for the danger still remaining above them.

  “It’s clear what we need to do,” Shawn finally said.

  She’d been thinking about their fortunes over the last few hours. Nerio could fly around without a care in the world, save for one unwieldy anti-tank gun which seemed to do little more than scare her away for a short time. What they needed was a more permanent way to take her out of commission.

  Grace looked to the engine glimmering in the darkness.

  Without thinking, she spoke aloud. “We need to use the engine as a trap.”

  The Crow leader became silent.

  She turned to him, realizing she’d stepped on his presentation. “Oh, sorry. I was just—”

  He waved her off with good humor. “It’s all right. I was about to say that very thing. The only way to end this is to trick her into committing to the wrong target. She has no idea who we have on our side now.” He shifted on his bad leg to look toward the highway. “My people.”

  Kansas City, MO

  Ezra brought Susan’s Grace around the bend in the river, but the scene ahead looked like they’d driven into the core of a nuclear reactor. A black orb was half-submerged in the middle of a giant lake. The black waters contrasted with the inferno of lights being held above the rock by cranes sitting on flat barges. Other watercraft hovered near the edge of the rock, as if eating away at the core.

  “It’s the asteroid fragment. It came down right next to downtown.” Ezra pointed toward the skeletal remains of the tall skyscrapers sitting on a hillside to the south.

  “What are they doing there?” Haley asked, still sitting low in the boat.

  “Mining,” he said automatically. There was no other reasonable explanation for the operation. A recovery effort would be focused on all those people on the shore, not the cause of the disaster. It was a mining company, and almost certainly it was TKM. Thinking the name, he turned the boat away from the center point on the lake.

  “Is that why everyone was shooting at us?” Haley asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ezra replied. “If they really thought we were with TKM, then I suppose they figured we were with these miners. Lucky for us. I’d be pissed too, if someone came to my town and started extracting ore while I was stuck in a tent.” He looked over his shoulder, to make sure the light show and gun attacks were over. While there were still a few pops of fireworks taking place, he was no longer able to see more than their tops.

  The dark blotch of the lake piqued his curiosity as he sped toward the fallen piece of space rock. The shorelines were about a mile north to south, giving him plenty of room to skirt around the recovery zone. However, there was so much light glaring off the dig site, his boat was impossible to miss.

  A guy on a crane leveled his rifle and fired.

  “Down!” he ordered.

  Other shooters immediately joined in, no doubt expecting trouble after such an extended and deafening warning from down the river.

  Three or four pings struck against the hull of the boat. Unlike the citizens on the shoreline, the men in the mining camp seemed qualified to hit moving targets. He imagined more of the TKM goons who’d been following them on the bridges. Did they call ahead, after all? Or was he simply another enemy to be shot on sight for daring to get close to their treasure?

  He swerved, starting evasive maneuvers.

  “You guys really pissed off the gods, didn’t you?” Haley asked from her hiding spot.

  “I swear we didn’t try!” he replied, ducking as more shots came out of the night.

  “Do we shoot back?” Butch asked, rifle already in hand.

  He’d hesitated shooting into a crowd of innocent people, but these guys weren’t innocent. It seemed not only justified, but appropriate. “Let ’er rip!”

  The boat skimmed over the calm waters of the lake, giving Butch and Haley the chance to situate themselves along the right side of the railing. The veteran fighter helped Haley line up her shots, then they both opened fire.

  “Shoot for the guys on the cranes!” Butch ordered.

  For the next thirty seconds, Ezra held his breath. The outboard was cranked all the way to maximum, spitting out three hundred fifty-horsepower, giving him at least fifty miles an hour. They made their way around the excavation. A dozen empty barges were moored upriver from the site, giving a hint at how much they intended to harvest.

  A bullet snapped off the engine housing, then five or six spurts of water erupted a short way off his starboard side. There was no hiding in darkness. No swerving necessary. At that moment, going around the rock, Susan’s Grace presented a juicy profile to the attackers. It was the most vulnerable point in their escape.

  Another bullet cracked into the engine, causing it to spurt and sputter for a few seconds before going back to normal.

  “Thank God,” he said to himself.

  Butch and Haley poured on return fire, but it was futile. They could only aim for sparks of light where they thought the shooters were perched. None of them stood in plain sight. As best he could tell, none of them fell to their deaths like in the movies. Still, it was a comforting sight to watch his friends fight back.

  If they were on a clock, and the rock was the center point of the lake, he figured they’d made it to about the ten o’clock position before the engine sputtered again. The boat lurched forward as if the prop stopped spinning for a few seconds. Then it restarted.

  “Uh, we’ve got issues,” he said, his voice steeped in fear. If they stopped for good in the middle of the lake, they’d be in worse shape than sitting ducks. They’d be sitting ducks with huge spotlights pointed at them. “Come on,” he coaxed his boat.

  The motor resumed its powerful thrust, giving him hope they were going to make it. They creeped toward the eleven o’clock position, putting a little added distance between them and the shooters. However, another couple of rounds rattled the pontoons, then cracked into the plastic housing of the motor. A shower of sparks made him crumple into his seat.

  “Dang!” he blurted.

  The motor stopped abruptly. The boat imm
ediately lost its momentum, stopping completely after a few dozen yards. They were at the edge of the lighted shooting gallery but were upriver. If they floated free, they’d go back toward the mining equipment. “I think we have to get off the boat,” he said evenly.

  More rounds came in. His nightmare about being an easy target was coming to life as he sat in his comfy seat looking at the broken depth finder.

  “Uh, what?” Butch asked with fear in his voice.

  Ezra scooted off his chair and scampered over to Haley. “Butch can’t swim. You have to help him.” As an afterthought, he asked her a follow up question. “You can swim, right?”

  “Of course. But he’s twice my size. It might take some time.”

  Butch looked back toward the motor. “You want to try the engine again? Maybe it’s still working…”

  “It’s not,” he snapped. “We’ve joked about it, but this time you really have to jump.”

  He gathered his rifle, as well as his backpack. He also yanked Butch’s rifle out of his hands. “I’ll get this to shore for you. Right now, I need you to go with Haley.”

  “In the water?” the big man asked, dubious of the answer.

  “Yes. Get in the damned water!” There wasn’t a chance he could push the giant of a man over the side, so he hoped he’d go on his own. Haley seemed to see the problem, so she talked with a lot more calm than Ezra.

  “Come on, my tall, cool, glass of milk. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

  Butch’s chest heaved as if his lungs were full of nothing but fear. But he let Haley lead him toward the front of the boat. Since there was no way to prevent Susan’s Grace from turning in the slow current, he had to accept the front was swinging toward shore, which was good, but it would soon swing all the way around, which would be bad.

  “Come on,” Ezra said under his breath. He didn’t want to be the first one in. It wasn’t because a captain was supposed to go down with his ship; he needed to make sure everyone was off before he abandoned it.