Roek checked that his wallet had cash in it and walked inside the store. He waited in line for several minutes while a man swayed and counted out $20 in loose change. Finally, the drunk man stumbled out to his vehicle.
The clerk watched the man stagger in a circle before he climbed into his car. He looked at Roek. “That's why people should smoke weed instead of drink.”
Roek grinned, being careful not to reveal his elongated canines, and put $60 on the counter. “I need to fill up.” He remembered the days when cannabis was used to treat every ailment under the sun before special interests groups came along.
The clerk put the money on top of the cash register and set the pump. “Don't forget your change.”
Roek nodded and turned away. He rarely returned for change when he fueled up to make sure nothing turned into a trap. Besides, his frugal lifestyle and more than sufficient income allowed him to sacrifice some to make sure he wasn't caught on video more than necessary.
A tall, redheaded woman in black military gear passed him. Then Roek noticed two blacked-out vans with several different types of antennae at the far side of the parking lot. A couple other people in the same gear had the back of one van open, checking something.
Roek didn't hear the door jingle behind him. He turned. The woman stood with her hands on her hips, staring at him. She went inside a second later. He hurried to the van, fumbling with the fuel cap. His heart would've been racing had it still been able to do so.
He stood so that he could see the vans from the corner of his eye. The numbers on the pump didn't go fast enough, and he squeezed the handle too hard, cutting it off, over and over. Finally, he got enough fuel in the tank to call it done. He spun the cap on, replaced the pump handle, and looked up.
The woman stood on the sidewalk. Her gaze didn't waver from him.
Roek glanced at the vans. The others had spread out in a defensive stance and more had exited the other van. Two of them walked towards him. He pushed the unlock button and reached for his driver's door.
A man yelled, “Stop!”
Roek ignored the command. He jerked the door open and jumped into the seat, locking it and arming the defense system.
Someone grabbed the latch to the rear door, and sparks sprayed into the air as the capacitor released the same power as a dozen stun guns into the person's hand.
The second man who'd stepped closer to his van backed off, raising his weapon.
Roek flipped a toggle switch and flooded the gas station with several million lumens worth of light. Everyone staggered around blindly as he drove off.
Chapter 16
Young couldn't see or hear anything, but he could feel the van move a short distance and stop.
He may as well have been buried alive as to be in the box while shackled. Nor were they the type he'd used to move prisoners. They only had one link between them, making slack negligible. The mask they'd put over his face was even more uncomfortable. Leather straps dug into the back of his neck and head. It didn't even have eye-holes.
He'd really done it this time. He shouldn't have let his anger get the better of him and cause him give up home ground advantage. He shouldn't have stomped on the man's pendant. Hell, he shouldn't have picked the damn thing up. His superiors had always said that he'd bite off more than he could chew one day, but they'd had something else in mind.
And he was hungry. Hungrier than he'd ever been in his life. Images of the dog's blood flashed through his mind and made him drool.
The van lurched and he rattled like a peanut in a loose shell as the driver took the turns out of the parking lot at high speed.
They were after someone.
Chapter 17
Haskel thought that the newbie would go to the other side of the van, but he didn't. He grabbed the rear door handle before anyone could warn him how dangerous modified vehicles could be. The former USVU member's muscles contracted hard enough to shatter bone as he was flung backwards from the current. He was dead before he convulsed on the pavement.
Haskel pointed his gun at the van and stepped back.
Then the world turned white.
He blinked and rubbed his eyes as an engine started. The van cleared the parking lot, turning right onto Highway 80, as his vision returned with a large spot in the center.
Murray stumbled from the sidewalk and grabbed Number Four's body by the feet, which Haskel helped her drag. They never left anyone behind, but some had been, depending on the size of the cluster fuck. They shoved the body into the equipment van.
“Load up!” Haskel shoved Number One towards the vans.
They staggered to their seats, rubbing their eyes. The water had been forgotten.
The variation's taillights had blended in with the other traffic by the time Haskel turned onto the four lane and stomped the gas with Murray driving the other van behind him. The custom engines pushed nearly 500 horsepower to all four wheels that set him back in the seat.
Murray's voice sounded in Haskel's ears. “Do you see him?”
Haskel blinked and squinted at the traffic. “No, but we'll catch him.” He changed the transmitter channel. “There's a change of plans, Nick. We're after another suspected variation. Tell Larry to shadow my GPS coordinates.”
“Should I tell him you've found his prey?”
“We could have stumbled upon a different wanderer.”
“Roger that.”
Haskel weaved through traffic, passed some in the breakdown lane, and made sure Murray kept up in the heavier equipment van. She stayed no more than ten meters behind him. He wished that HQ had put sirens on the vans for such moments, but they'd refused, saying it'd bring undue attention. They were right, but he still wanted a fucking siren.
Number Five coolly watched the vehicles that Haskel missed by inches when he veered around them. One and Three gripped the seats with white knuckles. But the variation wasn't in sight.
Haskel pushed harder on the pedal.
“We need a siren,” Number Five said.
Haskel glared at him. “Don't say that.”
Number Five frowned. “Uh, okay.”
Haskel's earbuds crackled with Larry's voice and Number Two's cough. “So, you're looking for some crazy fucker in a suped up van?”
Haskel looked up to see running lights in the sky ahead. “How did you know?”
“Well, some crazy fucker in a suped up van is about a klick ahead of you.” Larry paused to inhale before he continued. “He's ran a couple people off the road. He's not pussyfooting around like you are.”
“We're catching him.”
“It's neck and neck from my point of view. The four lane ends three klicks up.”
“Damn, keep watch on him and give me a minute.”
“Roger.” Larry exhaled and coughed. “That's all you have.”
Haskel smacked Number Five in the shoulder and pointed at the laptop on the console between them. “Pull up the map and see where this road goes.”
Number Five messed with the unfamiliar computer for several seconds before he had an answer. “A town called 'Somerset'. It's about 45 kilometers away.”
“Anything between here and there?”
Number Five shook his head. “A lot of nothing.”
Haskel nodded. “Larry, we have a ways to the next town. Keep him in sight while we catch up.”
“Good, we have time for another joint.”
Haskel couldn't respond. There was another pack of vehicles for him to get around. One of them was a tractor trailer, so he passed them in the breakdown lane with Murray on his tail. Someone beeped their horn in protest, but they were far behind a second later. He pushed the pedal to the floor, passing speeding drivers like they stood still.
Then half the lanes and the center median disappeared, and the breakdown lane was barely wide enough to fit the vans. Their speed dropped.
Haskel looked for running lights and didn't see them. “How are we looking, Larry?”
“Like shit. There's a lot of
traffic between you and him, and he's not far from breaking out of it.”
“Can you slow him down?”
“And everyone else on the road.”
“Do it.”
Chapter 18
Roek had to slow down when the four lane ended, even though he didn't want to. Such a geared up team had to be the USVU. Papsukkal had been right. He was hunted.
He needed a side road to escape the suffocating traffic. Maybe he'd see one in time to turn or maybe not. The concentration required to stay on the road kept him from reading any of the signs he passed.
Suspicious lights still hadn't appeared in his mirrors, but he didn't dare slow until he was a couple towns away. He could never take on a military team of any size while surprised, in the open, and with traffic piled up. He wondered if he could take on any team since he'd always avoided large fights. Such things attracted attention.
A helicopter appeared out of the sky and hovered above the road. Like the vans, it was void of markings. A spotlight lit up on its belly, but the polarized windows kept him from being blinded. The other drivers weren't so lucky. Brake lights lit up in front of him.
Roek jerked the steering wheel and just missed the car in front of him, slamming the passenger side of the van into the guardrail. Sparks flew into the air as he kept from hitting the stopped vehicles to his left. Even so, he sideswiped several and ripped off more than a few bumpers.
A door slid open on the side of the helicopter and someone fired at him. Streaks appeared across his windshield, but he couldn't hear the shots nor the helicopter itself. He went through its downwash a second later and passed the stopped traffic.
His lane was clear for as far as he could see, but the helicopter lifted into the sky after him. The vans must have fallen behind for them to risk so much attention to stop him. It was time to get off the main road so that the helicopter couldn't come down on him again.
Roek dragged a new GPS route down a side road that turned right two kilometers ahead. The helicopter lights had disappeared by the time he'd finished. He would've preferred them to have stayed in sight.
More brake lights appeared ahead of him as the turn flashed on the GPS. He slowed and moved into the breakdown lane.
The helicopter had landed in the middle of the side road he'd intended to turn down. Traffic on the main road had slowed but hadn't stopped. Two men stood with their weapons ready. A gray haired old man with a shirt that said 'Kill something...anything', and the other was in black gear, minus the helmet. Smoke rolled out of the open helicopter doors.
The odd sight distracted Roek until the young man's first bullets ricocheted off his windshield. The older man held a double-barreled shotgun that he unloaded at Roek's front tires. Both were hit, but only the right one lost air since he kept sealant in them.
The older man stepped behind the guardrail and the younger man jumped into the rear of a slow pickup truck as Roek drove through where they'd been. More bullets hit his van as the young man slipped from the truck, firing.
Roek twisted the steering wheel and stomped the brakes at the last second, bouncing the side of the armored van off the helicopter to help him make the sharp turn. The impact crumbled the open door and shattered the windows on that side. It slid across the pavement until the slow turning rotor chopped into tree branches at the edge. His van engine roared as he burned rubber away from the scene.
He turned on his high beams. Trees hung over the side road, obscuring the moon, and he couldn't see any other vehicles ahead of him for reference. With luck, he'd disabled the helicopter and only had to worry about the vans.
Then he hit a pothole.
A weakened front tire exploded, spraying sealant into the trees. The wheel jerked in his hands, and the van shuddered each time it rolled over the twisted rubber. He stopped and dug one of his two spare tires and jack out
The night was silent while he changed the tire, but he could hear a vehicle by the time he'd finished. He threw the busted tire into the trees and wiped his hands on his pants before he put the jack in the van.
The engine had grown louder, along with a strange whine, but he couldn't see any lights. He ran around to the driver's door and yanked it open.
Chapter 19
Young quickly lost track of where they were. He could only tell that they were on a highway of some sort. Gunfire like vibrations ran through the van as it passed over rumble strips on the edge of the road, and there didn't seem to be much for curves. The movements that rattled him in the steel coffin were brief as the driver veered around traffic.
One hard bump pressed the keys in his pocket against his leg, giving him an idea. He hadn't seen what they'd unlocked the shackles with, but he had a cuff key if he could reach it.
The shackles limited how far his wrists could move away from each other, and he had far more up and down movement in his shoulders. He pulled his pants down with one finger and raised that shoulder to slip his hand into the pocket for the key ring. Their jingle was loud inside the soundproof container.
Young slipped his middle finger through the key ring in case he dropped them and sorted through them with both hands. He separated the cuff key from the others, pressed it against his palm with his thumb, and felt for the hole. It defied attempts to be identified for several minutes. The shackles weren't made like any he'd ever dealt with before. They were made of heavier metal, and the dimples in the metal were hard to separate from potential keyholes.
Young finally found the hole, but the key wouldn't fit. He turned it around. It went in partially, but was at too odd of an angle to seat. He pulled it out and twisted his wrist as far as possible before he tried again. The key slipped in and opened the shackle after a second of resistance. He unlocked the other one and let them fall to his feet.
The shackles around his ankles were harder to get to, because the container was narrower at the bottom than at the top. He turned sideways as far as he could and lifted his feet up to use the key. The uncomfortable mask joined the shackles. He picked his feet up and let it all fall to the bottom so he could stand on it. His head brushed the top of the container from the added height.
Hunger nearly overpowered him by the time he'd finished. He felt weak. It was hard to think as images of blood flashed through his head, but he had to maintain composure to escape his cage.
He picked a spot in front of his left check to test the strength of the cage, pressing against it best he could. The smooth metal didn't provide any purchase, and the confined area didn't allow him much leverage. He crouched as far as he could and put his arms over his head to push against the opposite halves with his elbows. The metal didn't hurt as he put more and more force on his arms, pushing up with his feet and out with this shoulders. Something in his right elbow moved as a rush of air brought vehicle noise and the chatter of his captors into the container. He relaxed in surprise. It hadn't felt like he'd put much pressure on it. Either it was weaker than it appeared or he was stronger than before.
But was he strong enough to escape a steel shell and take out the occupants of the van?
Young put his arms back over his head, ignoring the odd movement in his elbow. It didn't hurt. All he felt was pressure. Sound returned when he broke the seal, and he held position, listening.
Road and engine noise nearly drowned out the two people talking.
“I have to stop at the chopper,” a woman's voice said. “You―” The van swayed as the driver made a hard turn. “You're going to stay with Larry and help him move it away from the trees.”
“Who else?” The second speaker was a man.
“Number One. Number Two and Five will take the bikes in case there are side roads to search.”
Young couldn't hear the man's reply as the van screeched to a stop.
Chapter 20
Haskel stomped the brake and slid through the turn sideways, stopping just past the helicopter with Murray behind him. Number Three and Five were out of the van a second later to unload the bike without him sayin
g a word to them. He started to hope he'd get to learn their names. Number Two, who seemed to have struck up a friendship with Larry, walked to the vans through the cloud of road dust kicked up by the tires.
Murray jumped into Haskel's passenger seat and lit a cigarette while bumps and thuds sounded from the bikes being removed from their brackets. “How many dead motherfuckers you think we'll have tonight?”
“You don't sound optimistic.”
“Number Four didn't hold position, Number Two smoked with Larry, One and Three don't seem to like things, and Number Five would rather to play beer pong.” She took a drink of water. “And the team will be split up when we pull out. We're fragmenting.”
Haskel groaned. “Yeah, that sounds like everything.”
Number Three climbed in the side door and pulled it shut behind him while Number Two and Five took off, doing wheelies with their night vision goggles pulled down and their headlights off.
Murray pointed with her cigarette. “You going to sit here all night?”
Haskel put the van in gear and turned on his high beams. The bikes had disappeared down the one lane road. Only overhanging trees were visible ahead of them.
***
Number Two focused on the road ahead of him, ignoring the trees on either side that were a green blur. He didn't know how fast he was going since nothing was lit up on the instrument panel with the lights off. All the better for sneaking up on someone in the dark. Plus, he was alone since Number Five had turned off to check a gravel lane.
He didn't know why they weren't allowed more information until they survived the first mission, but he knew that what they hunted could die, and that was all he had to know. Larry wouldn't even give him more information about the variations after they'd smoked two joints together.
Nothing else touched the money they were paid per mission. Only a ten mission contract separated him from a huge check and being home with his daughter that he'd only seen a handful of times when off active duty. He wouldn't get another break until the contract had been fulfilled, but that'd only take a couple months at their current pace.
The Hunt Page 5
