Kenneth yanked the screwdriver out as the man in front of him dropped his flashlight and reached inside his jacket. Kenneth grabbed his wrist, pushing it into the man’s chest as he brought the screwdriver around and shoved it into the man’s brain.
Yanking the screwdriver out as he spun around, Kenneth saw the last flashlight holder pulling a pistol out from under his jacket. Seeing the two women start to move, the man hesitated his grab for his gun, aiming the light at the girls. Closing the distance, Kenneth grabbed the man’s wrist with his left hand before the man could pull out the pistol. Raising the man’s arm, Kenneth brought his right hand up in an uppercut, hearing a snap as he struck the man’s elbow.
The man yelled, dropping the flashlight as his left hand came out of a pocket holding a knife. With the screwdriver still in his right hand, Kenneth brought it down, pushing him away. Letting the man’s broken arm go with his left hand, Kenneth twisted, reaching over and grabbing the man’s left wrist.
Kenneth rotated the man’s arm as he rolled his hand around the wrist, making him bend over. Kenneth raised is right elbow then brought it down and heard the man’s arm snap. With the tip of the screwdriver pointing in the wrong direction, Kenneth lashed out with is right foot, kicking the man in the chin.
As the man straightened up from the kick, Kenneth spun around, extending his right arm. When his spin completed, the tip of the screwdriver buried in the back of the man’s skull. Letting the screwdriver go, Kenneth let the body drop as he moved over to Besseta, who was using the wall to stand up.
“You okay?” he asked, helping her up.
Shaking her head to clear the weakness away, she said, “I think so.” As Kenneth helped Tiffany up, Besseta noted, “That was some flashlight.”
Kenneth spun around. “Feed. We have to move,” he said, moving to the first one he killed. Taking off the man’s jacket, Kenneth unclipped the shoulder holster from the man’s belt and pulled it off. Going through the jacket, Kenneth tossed a small notebook on the ground then emptied the pants pockets and found a spring-assisted knife, which he put into his pocket. Putting the man’s smartphone down, Kenneth looked up to see the girls moving over.
Ripping the man’s shirt off, Kenneth unfastened the bulletproof vest and tossed it to the ground with the notebook. He moved to the next gun holder as Besseta knelt by one of the flashlight holders. Kenneth pulled out the pistol and magazines then emptied the pockets. Unclipping the radio on the man’s belt, Kenneth pulled out the earpiece, laid the radio down, and finished emptying the man’s pockets, throwing everything into the pile.
Moving over to the man Besseta was feeding on, Kenneth took the pistol and magazines and tossed them in the pile then emptied the pockets in the same way. Moving over to the next one, Kenneth repeated the process and found a set of keys. Keeping them, Kenneth put the rest in the pile.
With the four stripped of useful gear, Kenneth grabbed one of the pistols and shoved it in his belt at the small of his back and started putting everything into the backpack. “You guys almost ready?” he asked.
Tiffany pulled away from the man she was feeding on and looked at the screwdriver sticking out the back of the head. “Where the hell did you get a screwdriver?”
“From the drugstore?” Kenneth said, fighting to zip up the stuffed backpack.
Finished feeding, Besseta moved over and looked at the flashlight beside her. “I’ve never felt anything like that before,” she with some awe.
“Gave my face a sunburn,” Kenneth said, reaching over to the radio, and clipped it to his belt while putting the ear bud in. He listened for a second then keyed the radio. “Unit six here,” he said. The two turned to him, shocked.
“Had trouble with maintenance staff not opening the corridor. Waiting at junction,” Kenneth said with authority. “Haven’t seen the targets, sir. Will advise if situation changes.”
Getting up, Kenneth walked over, picked up the smartphone, flipped through the screens, and found a program running. “Let’s go,” he said, heading down the left corridor.
The two ran after him and fell in behind him as Kenneth shook his head. “Shit, give me your phones,” he said.
“I can break mine,” Besseta said, digging in her coat.
Kenneth looked over his shoulder. “I said give, not break.”
Huffing, Besseta pulled it out and handed it over. “We have never used the damn things. How did they trace them?”
“They scanned them in the restaurant and cloned them,” Kenneth said, taking her and Tiffany’s phones.
“You’re sure?” Tiffany asked.
Kenneth held up the phone. “Says captured two hours and seven minutes ago,” he said, and they saw a map with three blinking lights on the screen. “Follow and act like you belong,” he said as he turned the smartphone off.
Opening the door, they found themselves on a small side street. Not stopping to look around, Kenneth strolled out and grabbed his cellphone, walking out into the stopped traffic waiting on the traffic light. Strolling past the back of a pickup truck, Kenneth put the phones in the bed.
Keeping close, the girls held their heads high and followed Kenneth to the sidewalk. Pulling out the keys, Kenneth hit the unlock button and heard a chirp behind him. Turning around, he saw a black SUV with its lights on. Hitting the button again, the lights flashed as the SUV chirped.
“Get in,” Kenneth said, walking to the SUV. The girls walked around, climbing in as Kenneth shut the door and started the SUV. Dropping his hand, Kenneth keyed the radio on his belt. “Negative, sir, we don’t have a visual on suspects. There was a side entrance we couldn’t cover from the hallway, and tracking shows suspects moving.”
Looking behind him, Kenneth forced his way into the stream of traffic, getting a few honks. When he was in the line of traffic, he quickly keyed the radio again. “Copy, move to perimeter.”
At the first intersection, Kenneth turned away from the museum and hit the gas, weaving through traffic to create distance. “Holy shit, you kicked their ass!” Tiffany shouted behind him.
“Where are we going?” Besseta asked, staring at Kenneth. The hundreds of thoughts she had heard were now thousands roaring in his mind.
Glancing at the rearview mirror, Kenneth turned on a larger road and said, “Have to dump this ride.”
“Okay, then what?” she asked.
Holding up his hand for quiet, Kenneth reached down and keyed the radio. “Rodger, unit six moving to blocking position on Pine Street.” When he was certain he didn’t need to talk, he glanced over at Besseta. “We have to find a spot for me to think for a second.”
“Besseta, did you see him kick their asses like little bitches?” Tiffany yelled from the back. “Shit, that was worth getting hit with that weird flashlight.”
Besseta leaned forward and saw Kenneth’s face was indeed red with a sunburn. Kenneth pushed the backpack over. “Get the sunscreen out, and you and Tiffany coat up. It’s in the side pocket. Don’t open the main compartment because I barely got it closed.”
Pulling out the bottle, Besseta started smearing it on as Tiffany leaned over the seat, holding out her hands. Besseta squirted a glob for herself, and she started rubbing it over her body.
Seeing a gap in traffic, Kenneth stomped the gas and weaved onto an interstate. “You know where you’re going?” Besseta asked. “I can get the map.”
“Heading three exits up. It’s an old industrial park with busy roads to the north and east,” Kenneth said, weaving around traffic and picking up speed.
“Oh man, Besseta, this is just like a movie. Kenneth kicked those guys’ asses, and to top it off, he shanked them with a screwdriver!” Tiffany hooted.
Kenneth glanced over at Besseta. “Televisions ruined her; she’s grounded from TV for a week.”
“Fine, but you’re enforcing it.” Besseta grinned as Kenneth yanked the wheel, forcing the SUV into a space between two cars that wasn’t there. “Kenneth, those lights dropped us like cheap dates,”
Besseta told him.
“You’re grounded from the TV as well,” Kenneth said, looking in the rearview mirror.
Besseta laughed. “That, I want to see you enforce.”
Kenneth charged through the lines of traffic to the far lane. “Yes, those lights were powerful. I got a burn and was only in the beam for a second or so. What does that tell you?”
Besseta thought for a second. “They want us alive.”
“Yep,” he said, taking the exit and barreling around traffic that was stopped for a traffic light at the bottom of the ramp. Pulling on the shoulder of the road, Kenneth hit the gas, blowing by the traffic and forcing his way onto the road, getting a few one-finger salutes and blaring horns.
Kenneth saw a gas station on the other side of the road with the industrial park and turned in front of oncoming traffic, barreling across three lanes into the parking lot. “Damn, gratuitous violence is cool! Let’s find some more bad guys and stomp their asses; this is awesome!” Tiffany shouted from the back.
Kenneth opened his door. “Look in the glove box,” he said. He got out and walked around to the back then opened the hatch. He found two hard gun cases and one soft. Opening the hard cases, Kenneth found M-4s. He closed them and opened the soft case to find a UMP 45 submachine gun.
He zipped it closed, opened the side, and found loaded magazines. Pulling the case to the back, Kenneth zipped the side closed and dug through the rest of the equipment. He saw a few boxes of handgun ammunition and shoved them in the submachine gun case. He found another of the flashlights from hell and field gear but nothing else he could use or was willing to carry.
Grabbing the case with the submachine gun, Kenneth closed the hatch and walked around to the passenger door. He opened it and saw Besseta had a pile of papers and stuff in her lap. “Nothing of real importance,” she said.
Using his finger, Kenneth moved the stuff around and grabbed a state map, shoving it in his back pocket. “Throw it in the floor, and see what’s in the center console.”
Dumping the items in the floorboard, Besseta started pulling stuff from the center console. Kenneth grabbed a sheet of paper off her lap then pulled out another one. “Well damn,” he said, and Besseta turned around, looking at the sheets Kenneth was holding up.
On one were several pictures of him, and the other had several pictures of Besseta. All of Besseta’s photos came from security cameras while Kenneth’s were from the sheriff department from what seemed like two lifetimes ago. Tiffany dove over the seat and snatched them. “I want them,” she sang out. “Hey, I’m in this one with Besseta; why don’t I have a wanted poster?” she complained.
Besseta climbed over the seat and saw the picture Tiffany was pointing at. “Kenneth, this was from Atlanta.”
“Shit, they know we are near Chicago,” he grumbled, digging through the rest of the stuff. He found a report log and took it. “We need to go,” he said, taking the keys.
The girls climbed out the back, shutting the door as Kenneth slung the backpack on then used the shoulder strap on the soft gun case. He walked toward the store then up to two men leaning against the wall drinking from brown-paper-wrapped bottles. “Here’s you a ride,” Kenneth said, tossing them the keys. One of the men caught them.
He looked at the keys then at Kenneth and the SUV parked behind him. “How hot is it?”
“Smoking.” Kenneth smiled. “Pull the OnStar fast, and strip it. It’s a Five-0, so move fast. There’s hot iron in the back.” The two men ran for the SUV and climbed in. As Kenneth led the girls behind the store, the SUV squealed out of the parking lot.
“How long do you think those two have with that truck?” Tiffany asked.
“Twenty minutes tops,” Kenneth said, leading the two through a hole he saw in the chain-link fence around the industrial park. “They just called out they stopped the truck we put the cellphones in.”
As Kenneth held the fence open, the two slipped in, and he followed. “How can they have so many here to catch us?” Besseta asked as he led them into the industrial park.
“That I don’t know,” Kenneth admitted as he picked up his pace. They passed the first line of buildings and headed right on a street deeper in the park. Halfway down, Kenneth walked up to a building missing several sheets of metal over the walls.
Walking in where a sheet of metal was missing, they looked around at piles of trash. Kenneth dropped the soft gun case, took off the backpack, and started laying stuff out. “They found the guys I killed,” he announced, taking the ear bud out. He picked up the small notebooks he had taken off the four and handed them over.
“Look through them for radio frequencies,” Kenneth said. The girls grabbed the notebooks. With the gear arranged, Kenneth stood, taking off his trench coat and hanging it on a piece of metal. He took off his jacket and shirt and grabbed the bulletproof vest, strapping it on and tucking it in.
When he had put his shirt back on, Kenneth picked up the shoulder holster and strapped it on. Checking the pistol, he holstered it. “Ooh, a Sig 226,” Tiffany said as Kenneth put the pistol in the holster. Kenneth just arched his eyebrow at her as he put the other pistol back in the small of his back.
“Is this what you are looking for?” Besseta said, holding out the notebook.
Seeing the numbers, Kenneth grinned. “Yes it is,” Kenneth said, picking up the radio and keying in the numbers then the code to unlock them. “Rookie mistake; they put the code under the frequency,” Kenneth said as he changed channels. “Homeland agents are nothing more than thugs that were kicked out of the mafia for rough tactics.”
“You’re being serious,” Besseta said, and he nodded, putting a knife in both front pockets. After putting extra magazines in his back pocket, Kenneth grabbed his jacket and put it on. Picking up three of the four IDs, Kenneth handed over two.
“If asked to show ID, flip it open with your finger over the picture,” he said, demonstrating. “Don’t be obvious about it.”
Giggling, Tiffany practiced and looked at the pile of gear. “I want a gun,” she stated seriously.
“I don’t think now would be the time to experiment with guns,” Kenneth said, checking the stuff in his jacket pockets. Tiffany bent down, picked up a pistol, ejected the magazine, and racked the slide, ejecting a live round.
Catching the round out of the air, Tiffany put it back in the magazine. “Sig Sauer P226 forty caliber. It’s loaded with hydro shock hollow points,” she said, sliding the magazine in and racking the slide.
Kenneth looked up at Besseta for an explanation. “After you go to sleep, we go down and pull out guns and check them out. We’ve shot most of yours.” She shrugged.
Kenneth took a breath. “You—” he started and let the breath out. “Never mind; that was dumb,” he said, going back to work.
“Yes, it would’ve been. We could get hurt but heal really fast, and the basement is solid stone, so we can’t shoot through a wall,” Besseta laughed.
Stopping what he was doing, Kenneth looked up at her. “You could’ve asked. I would’ve been more than happy to show you and take you shooting.”
Besseta frowned. “Sorry, just thought you were too busy.”
“I’m never too busy for you,” he told her and held out a pistol to Besseta.
Smiling, Besseta took it and checked it just like Tiffany had. “I have to say shooting guns is very satisfying,” she said, racking the slide.
“This is great,” Tiffany said, bouncing on her toes. “We’re like rogue agents.” Kenneth turned around with a grin, looking at her. “I want a mini gun,” Tiffany smiled.
“Me too,” Kenneth laughed and finished packing the backpack. He opened the gun case and took out the submachine gun.
Tiffany moved over. “A UMP 45 with a suppressor, tactical light, and laser,” she said.
“I don’t have one of these; how did you know that?” he asked, checking the weapon.
Tiffany moved closer as Kenneth went over the weapon. “We get on the internet
when we see a gun we don’t know on your movies.”
Kenneth put a magazine in, racking the bolt. “You watch too much TV,” he said, slinging the submachine gun over his right shoulder. He grabbed his trench coat and put it on. He adjusted the sling until he could pull out the submachine gun without much difficulty. Tucking it back, Kenneth loaded his coat pockets with magazines then put the rest in the backpack.
Leaving the gun case, Kenneth picked up the backpack, and Besseta moved over, grabbing it. “I’ll carry it; I want you to be ready to shoot.” She smiled. Nodding, he let her take it. “Well, what were you thinking?” she asked, putting on the backpack. “Honestly, I don’t know. Your mind sounds like a waterfall with all the thoughts running through it.”
“They could’ve had us but didn’t come at us. They were herding us somewhere,” he said, walking back out of the building.
Chapter 19
Kenneth led Besseta and Tiffany back to the road and headed north. They moved up behind him, putting their guns inside their jackets. “Man, dresses suck for going strapped,” Tiffany announced.
Stopping, Kenneth laughed. “Strapped?” he said, glancing over at Tiffany.
Worried she had gotten the term wrong, Tiffany looked over at Besseta. “Isn’t that what they say if you’re carrying a gun?”
“Yes, Tiffany,” Kenneth said, wiping his eyes as he started walking. “It just sounded really funny coming from you.” Glad she got it right, Tiffany smiled, following him with a bounce in her step.
“Where do you think they were trying to herd us?” Besseta asked.
Vengeance in Blood (Book 2): Tribulations Page 28
