by Harley Tate
Hopefully she wouldn’t have to use it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TRACY
Sloane Residence
7:30 p.m.
“I hope you’re not squeamish.” Tracy glanced at Peyton as she opened the door to the master bedroom.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Good. Because I’m going to need your help.” She eased inside and took stock of the situation. The man Madison had tied up groaned and shifted position, tugging on his taped arms.
With his mouth taped shut, all he could do was mumble obscenities, but that was about to change. Tracy didn’t know how her husband did it. He had deployed multiple times over his twenty years on active duty. Every deployment she worried. Would his plane be shot down? Would he be captured?
She pictured him like this, tied to a post, unable to eat or sleep or go to the bathroom until someone let him. Every time, Walter had come home. He’d never been injured, never been shot out of the sky, never taken prisoner.
He would make it home this time, too. She had to have faith. But until then, she was in charge.
Tracy crouched in front of the man. “I’m sorry. This is going to hurt.” She reached for the tape across his mouth and tugged at a little corner. As soon as she gripped enough to do the job, she pulled.
The tape came off with a grunt of pain from the man. “About damn time. How about you get this rope off me, too?”
“Sorry. I can’t do that.” Tracy stood up. “I’m going to need to ask you some questions first.”
The man snorted. “Good luck, lady. I’m not tellin’ you nothin’.”
“How badly do you need to piss?”
The man shifted on the floor.
“Or eat or have some nice, refreshing water?” Tracy held up a brand-new bottle of water. “I bet you’re dying for a sip.”
She unscrewed the cap. “Want some?”
The man wavered. “What do you want?”
“I want to know why you came here, what you hoped to accomplish, and who else is involved.”
“Then you’ll give me some water?”
She smiled. “I might even let you go.”
His shoulders slumped, and the man hung his head. The dried blood from the wound had crusted into his hair in a brown, chunky mess. “Bill is going to kill me.”
Tracy steeled herself. “Bill put you up to this? Bill Donovan?”
The man looked up with a nod. “Yeah. He said you guys had a ton of food and water and that no one was watching the place. All I had to do was sneak in and grab a case or two. You’d never miss it.”
Tracy glanced at Peyton. “That makes no sense. Bill knows we’re armed. I stuck a gun in his face for goodness’ sake.”
The hostage’s eyes went wide. “He told me you didn’t have any weapons. That it was just a bunch of women and kids.”
“That doesn’t mean we aren’t capable of defending ourselves.”
“Obviously.”
Tracy bent down and offered the man some water, holding it while he drank a few sips. “I’m Tracy Sloane.”
“Russell Unders. I’d shake your hand, but I’m kind of tied up.”
Tracy stood up and tried not to laugh. “I hate to tell you this, Russell, but Bill lied to you. About a lot of things.”
“I’m beginning to figure that out.”
Tracy turned to Peyton. “Can you spare a shirt for Russell here? We can let him go and get him cleaned up and something to eat.”
“You really think that’s a good idea?”
Tracy wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but Russell seemed like a good man. If he’d wanted to hurt them when he broke in, he could have. Instead of sneaking into the bedroom, he could have shot at anyone through the window. Or organized a party to come break the door down.
If he told the truth, Tracy needed to worry about Bill Donovan, not Russell Unders. She nodded at Peyton. “I do. Find the scissors too, so we can cut him loose.”
Peyton opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. Before the door shut behind him, she heard Brianna shout.
“We’ve got visitors!”
Tracy glanced at Russell before turning toward the open door. She shouted at Peyton as he ran toward the living room. “Who is it? What’s going on?”
After a moment, Peyton shouted back. “Get ready! I think it’s an ambush.”
Oh, no. Tracy pulled her handgun out of her waistband. They weren’t prepared to defend an attack. She glanced at Russell. “Could these be friends of yours coming to rescue you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. If you let me go, I can help. If it’s someone I know, I can diffuse the situation, maybe get them to stand down.”
Tracy frowned. She had planned on letting him go, but not with a threat looming outside. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you go. Not now.”
He struggled against his ropes. “I can help. I won’t hurt you or anyone in the house.”
Tracy stepped toward the door.
“You can’t leave me here! What if the people breaking in don’t know me? They could be thugs from another part of town. Come on, I’ll be a sitting duck!”
Tracy exhaled. “I’m sorry. But I can’t.” Before Russell could say another word in his defense, Tracy slipped out and shut the door behind her.
She could hear his shouts for help, but she ignored them. If they made it out of this ambush alive, she could reassess the situation. If not, letting him go wouldn’t do any good.
With a deep breath, she hustled into the chaos of the rest of the house.
CHAPTER TWENTY
MADISON
Sloane Residence
8:00 p.m.
“It’s too dark. I can’t see anything.” Madison squinted in an effort to see past the kitchen window and into the backyard. There could have been fifty people all crowded in between the fence and the patio and she would never have known. “We need to throw a glow stick out there or something so we can see!”
“And tell whoever is out there exactly where we are? Not a chance.” Tucker crouched down next to Madison, a rifle from Walmart in his hand. Thanks to Brianna’s quick thinking as she fled the store with Madison’s mom and Tucker, they had a gun for every person in the house and a bit of ammo.
It wasn’t enough for a firefight, but it might make whoever was out there think twice about breaking in.
“We need to stay low and concealed. If someone tries to break in, we shoot. That’s all there is to it.” With a ball cap on backward to keep his shaggy hair out of his face and a black sweatshirt covering his limbs, Tucker could almost pass for a jock instead of a science geek.
“Easy for you to say. A lot harder to do.”
“What other choice do we have? We don’t have enough ammo to engage. What if whoever is out there has guns, too?” Tucker frowned. “Someone could die, Madison.”
“We’re all going to die if we don’t do something.” Brianna crouched down next to Tucker, the butt of her shotgun tight against her shoulder. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the front?”
“Mrs. Sloane and Peyton are there now.”
Madison turned to Tucker. “Did the guy in the bedroom tell them anything? Do they know what’s going on?”
“Supposedly he’s harmless, but your mom won’t let him go with all this going on. She’s got the front covered. We’re supposed to keep anyone from coming in the back.”
“What about the bedrooms?”
Brianna rolled her eyes. “Wanda is standing guard.”
Tucker groaned. “She’ll get us killed. I’m going back there.”
Madison touched his arm. “I can go. You can stay here with Brianna if you want.”
“No. Let me handle Wanda. For some reason she listens to me.”
Brianna leaned in. “It’s the greasy hair and the River Cats hat. They make all the ladies swoon.”
Tucker gave his girlfriend a quick kiss on the cheek. “Be careful.”
“You, too.”
&n
bsp; As soon as Tucker was out of earshot, Madison spoke up. “Do you really think Wanda is a liability?”
“One hundred percent. But so is that guy tied up in the bedroom. Between the two of them, they’re liable to ruin everything.”
Madison stared at the sliding glass door, willing her vision to improve. “I hope you’re wrong.”
“So do I.” Brianna slid to the side while still in a crouch, easing past the edge of the table to get a better view. As she did so, shots rang out in the front of the house. “Shit!” She ducked back where Madison still hid and grabbed the edge of the table.
“What are you doing?”
“Help me flip it! We need cover!” Madison grabbed the table with both hands and pulled. It barely budged.
“It’s too heavy! We can’t lift it.”
Brianna cursed and slung her shotgun over her shoulder. “Grab the edge again. I’m going around to flip it.”
“No! You’ll be exposed.”
“We’ll be dead if I don’t.”
Before Madison could say another word, Brianna raced around the side of the table and crouched beneath it. “Ready? Pull!”
With Madison pulling and Brianna pushing, the heavy wood table lifted and wobbled and finally fell over with a crash. The handful of things sitting on the top fell to the floor as Brianna rushed back around.
Another round of gunfire erupted from the front of the house.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. It sounds like they’re trying to come in the front.”
“The entertainment center is in the way.”
“Maybe it’s a diversion. We need to be ready.” Brianna set the barrel of her gun up on the edge of the table and Madison did the same. If anyone tried to come in through the kitchen, he or she would be dead as soon as they broke the glass.
Madison’s mom called out from the other room. “Is everyone all right?”
Brianna answered first. “We’re fine in the kitchen.”
“No activity in the hall.” Tucker sounded calm and confident.
Madison asked about her mom. “Are you okay?”
“They shot out the front window, but the entertainment center stopped them. I don’t know where they are, but be ready. They haven’t given up.”
Shifting her position behind the table, Madison counted the shells they had in reserve. All three shotguns in the house—the two Madison and Brianna held and the one Peyton took to the living room—were partially loaded to the max with five each, and based on her hasty count, they had fourteen left in their box. Peyton couldn’t have many more.
Tucker had a rifle and a box of ammo. Her mom had a handgun, two extra magazines, and at least fifty rounds thanks to Brianna. They might be able to hold off an attack, but for how long?
She focused on the window. Every shot would have to count. Her heart slammed against her chest, every breath speeding it up until she felt like a racehorse about to be released from the chute. Something was coming. Madison could feel it.
All at once gunfire erupted. Brianna jumped up. “It’s from the hall. Tucker!” She turned to Madison. “Cover me!”
“What? No! Brianna—”
Before Madison could say another word, Brianna jumped out from behind the table and raced toward the hallway. Madison held up her shotgun, unable to see into the backyard to give her roommate the protection she needed.
Every step seemed to take an hour as Madison willed Brianna to make it past the window and down the hall to help Tucker and Wanda. Come on. Come on. Madison gripped the shotgun tight to her shoulder, finger on the trigger.
When the glass of the sliding door splintered, she didn’t hesitate. Madison shot.
Boom!
The gun recoiled hard and fast, the barrel flying up into the air as the sliding glass door shattered into a million little pieces and dropped to the floor. Her ears rang, drowning out the shouts and screams from the other room.
Madison brought the gun back against her shoulder and shot again.
Boom!
Smoke and the scent of cordite filled the air. The empty shell hit the floor and Madison fired again.
Boom!
She didn’t know if Brianna made it. Had she been hit? Was she lying on the floor ten feet away, sucking in her last breath? Madison gripped the gun tighter and waited with her head barely visible above the table.
When had breathing become so hard? She labored with each inhale, struggling to get enough oxygen. Her heart beat like she’d run a marathon and the sweat on her palms made it hard to grip the gun.
“Mom! Brianna! Tucker!”
She still couldn’t hear. Were they okay? Should she move? Fear slinked down her spine, nasty slivers jabbing her like knives.
People were breaking in and trying to destroy everything they worked for. Everything they saved and risked their lives over. Everything that was supposed to keep them alive.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. The mini-mart where they risked getting shot to grab more food and water and maps to get them home. The Walmart where her mom and Brianna and Tucker could have died.
Brianna and Tucker had delayed going to Truckee to keep them safe, and now they were getting shot at here. If Brianna died, how would she tell her parents? Madison didn’t even know where the cabin was located.
She ground her palm against her temple. Fear didn’t rule her. She wasn’t going to crouch there behind the table while her mom and friends battled for their lives. Madison unloaded the rest of the shotgun out the broken door before reloading. A handful of shells went into in her pockets.
Screw waiting and being safe. She was going to protect her house and her family whatever the cost. She stood up and fired into the dark cavern of the backyard. Three steps around the table and she fired again. Another four as she ran toward the hall.
The second Madison cleared the door, she stopped, back against the wall. Brianna wasn’t in view. She rushed into the living room and stumbled to a stop.
The couch had been flipped over and Peyton crouched behind it. Her mom and Brianna were nowhere to be found. “Are you all right?” Madison slid down to where Peyton half-sat.
“Yeah.” Sweat poured down his face and he dragged in labored breaths.
“Where is everyone?”
“The bedrooms.” Madison started to move when Peyton grabbed her arm. “It’s bad, Madison. Wanda got shot. Maybe Tucker, too. You might want to stay out here.”
Madison shook him off. “No! I need to go. What if they need help?”
“Who’s going to protect them from this direction? Just me?” Peyton glanced down at his gun. “I’ve got two shells left. That’s it.”
This can’t be happening. Madison glanced at the dark hall then back at Peyton. However much she wanted to help, Peyton was right. She needed to stay. She slid down to sit next to him and fished in her pocket.
“Here. I’ve got a few more shells. We can split them.”
Peyton wrapped his hand around hers before she pulled away. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” She focused on the way she’d come. “We still need to get out of this alive.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WALTER
Downtown Sacramento
5:30 p.m.
“Holy shit.” Drew pulled back from the edge of the building, his cheeks paling more by the second. “We’ll never make it. It’s a war zone out there.”
Walter believed it. From the shouts and the crashes and the intermittent gunfire, it sounded just like Los Angeles all those years ago. He exhaled. They could turn back, hike to the command center set up by the National Guard, and leave Drew’s fiancée in the midst of all this chaos.
Or they could man up and do the right thing.
Walter scrubbed at his face. “How badly do you want to see Anne?”
Drew didn’t hesitate. “More than anything.”
“Then we don’t have a choice.”
“Don’t come with m
e.”
Walter balked. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m going.”
Drew shook his head. “I mean it. You have a family, Walt. You should be putting them first. Anne is my responsibility, not yours.”
Walter glanced down at Drew’s taped ankle. “I’m not leaving you here. That’s a death sentence.”
His former co-pilot puffed up his chest. “I can do it.”
“It’ll be easier with two of us.”
Drew nodded. “Yes, it will. But I can’t ask you to risk your life. Not for me.”
“I’m not doing it for you. I doing it to help your fiancée. Besides, I need a car.”
Drew cracked a small grin. “Are you using me just to get access to a vehicle?”
“Maybe.” Walter clapped Drew on the back. “Come on. The daylight’s waning.”
Walter advanced toward the street, glancing behind him to make sure they could retreat if necessary. As he exhaled, eased around the corner.
Drew was wrong.
War zone didn’t come close to describing the chaos. Burned-out buildings. Fires still raging. A car crash in the middle of the intersection. A dead body lying ten feet away.
Christ.
Walter motioned for Drew to follow. Staying close to the buildings, they navigated over broken glass and sheets of plywood, dropped radios and smashed televisions. The drugstore on the corner had been looted and burned, shelves along the far walls the only thing left standing inside.
Drew hobbled behind Walter, intermittently cursing and grabbing the wall for support as his ankle gave him trouble. They didn’t have time to rest. The sooner they made it to safety the better.
A person appeared in the broken window of a shop half a block down and Walter rushed Drew into an alcove. The man wore a white T-shirt streaked with soot and blood and he held a baseball bat in one hand.
“What’s happening?”
Walter shushed Drew and pressed further back into the shadows. Maybe they should have waited until nightfall, but then how would they leave? The National Guard would erect the barricades and Walter, Drew, and Anne would be trapped.
His family would fear the worst if they didn’t already.
He leaned forward to survey the street. The man with the bat was gone. “Let’s go.”
