“You mean if I wanted the job, no one would want me?”
“Yes,” she answered.
Gabe shook his head. “I don’t believe it. I got the job because I don’t want it?”
“That’s right,” Jane said with a smile.
“Well, remind me not to ‘not want’ any more jobs.”
* * *
DJ was still fuming about the jerry can, so he didn’t see the truck on the side of the road until he was much closer to it than he would have preferred. If anyone was in it, they might be able to see him with just a cheap night-vision scope, or they might have heard him. He quickly pulled the big quad into the ditch on the opposite side of the road and grabbed his rifle. When he was twenty yards or so from the four-wheeler, he eased out to where he could see the truck. It was probably out of gas, as were most of the cars abandoned alongside the road, but perhaps it simply broke down and had some of the precious fluid DJ so desperately needed.
DJ eyed the truck for several minutes and saw no sign that anyone was in it. Of course, it could be that the owner was watching from a distance to ambush any unsuspecting passersby. It was probably just an abandoned vehicle, but it paid to be careful, he told himself. He wished he had infrared equipment, as that would be very hard to evade.
Finally he ran across the road in a crouch to the ditch on the other side. After scouring his surroundings from his new vantage point, he cautiously approached the truck. He placed his hand on the hood and pulled it off immediately, as if it were too hot to touch.
It was only slightly warm, but the fact that it had been running in the past few hours made him overreact. He looked around again, trying his best to spot anything out of the ordinary. The night-vision goggles made everything an eerie shade of green, but DJ had become accustomed to this in the past few weeks. There was nothing out of place.
Squatting down in front of the truck, DJ took his helmet off, removed his goggles from it, and balanced it on the muzzle of his rifle. He stuck the helmet up where it would be visible to anyone watching the truck. Nothing happened. After a minute, he pulled the decoy back down. Since the truck was still warm, there was a chance it held some fuel.
Putting his gear back on, he worked his way to the passenger door and carefully looked inside. No one was there. Checking the bed revealed nothing special. There was a spare tire, a jack, a pair of bolt cutters, some other assorted tools, and a bit of canned food. DJ was a little surprised someone would leave food behind. He looked around again, wondering if it might be a trap. However, he reasoned, he’d given anyone who might be lying in wait every opportunity to take a shot at him. Plus, how likely was it that someone who drove an old beat-up truck like this would have the quality night-vision gear it would take to execute an after-dark ambush? In a way, he wished it was a trap because then the truck would have fuel for sure.
He made his way back to the cab and pulled open the door. The dome light came on and activated the auto shutdown on his goggles. Lifting them up, he saw that the keys weren’t in the ignition. At least that was a promising sign. He pulled the plastic cover off the interior light and removed the bulb. No sense making it easy for someone. Lowering the goggles and switching them back on, he looked around one more time.
If anyone was going to take a shot at him, surely they would have done it by now. He drove his quad between the truck and the ditch. Then he removed the siphon hose he’d cut at Crystal’s and stuck it down into the gas tank. Blowing through the hose only created the sound of rushing air, not the sound of bubbles he was hoping to hear.
Damn it, I never have any luck. He remembered the hole someone had drilled into Crystal’s tank to remove all the gas. Was it possible there could be a little gas left that the hose just couldn’t reach? He didn’t have a drill, but there was a punch and a hammer in his tool kit. He grabbed them, along with a small flashlight. Removing his helmet and night-vision goggles—since he couldn’t take a chance on damaging his best asset next to his quad and rifle—he climbed under the truck. He put the punch on the lowest point on the gas tank and drew back the hammer.
Dumb-ass, he thought. If there was gas in the tank, he had to have something to catch it with. He climbed back out and removed the last good gas can he had. It wouldn’t fit under the truck in the upright position, but by rotating it ninety degrees he was able to make it fit. Climbing back under, he resumed his operation.
It took a couple of whacks with the hammer before the punch defeated the metal skin of the tank. Gas began to drip down as soon as the puncture was made, and DJ placed the jerry can’s opening directly under the hole. When he pulled the punch out, he was rewarded with a stream of liquid gold. It ran for several seconds and then reduced itself to a slow drip. Finally DJ pulled himself out from under the truck. He figured he had recovered around half of a gallon of fuel.
He happily poured it into the big quad, recovered his tools, confiscated the food in the truck, and strapped everything onto the four-wheeler. Back on the road, he smiled. A half gallon of fuel might not be much, but it would get him another nine or ten miles.
* * *
Gabe had to catch his breath and unkink his back. He sat up on the edge of the couch.
“What’s the matter?” Jane whispered, leaning up next to him.
“My back is all twisted. I’m not a teenager anymore, you know.” The taste of her lips was still on his.
“Could have fooled me.” She smiled in the soft candlelight. “I know I haven’t felt this way since I was a teenager. Of course, at this age I don’t have to worry about my dad catching me making out with my boyfriend.”
“Well, I guess that’s good.”
“It’s good for you. There’s no telling what my old man would have done to you if he caught us like this.” Jane paused. “On the other hand, I don’t know what Robby would think about this behavior.”
“He told me it was all right with him when we were out hunting this afternoon.”
“He did?” she asked, sitting up all the way.
“Yes. He said he’d seen us kissing before, and that if we wanted to get married, it was okay with him.”
“Robby really said that?”
“No. I just made it up,” Gabe said, smiling sardonically at the alluring creature sitting next to him on the couch.
She slapped his arm playfully. “Really, did he say it was okay with him?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ask him?”
“No,” Gabe said, now serious. “He brought it up on his own. I almost choked when he asked me.”
“What did you say?”
“That we weren’t thinking about that right now, but we’d let him know if we were.”
“Hmm,” she said.
Gabe could see the wheels turning in her eyes. He almost hated to ask, but he knew enough about women to know he should. “Hmm, what?”
“I was just thinking, well . . . I don’t know . . . what do you think?”
“Think about what?” he asked innocently.
“About getting married, silly!”
* * *
DJ was humming a song he couldn’t remember the name of as he drove along. It felt like rain, and that usually would have put him in a foul mood, but for some reason, it didn’t. He’d traveled a couple of miles since he’d gotten the gas. The road was straight here, and lined by field after field. The openness let him relax a little and look around. Of course, everything was green through the night-vision monocular, but it struck him that green was a happy color.
In the distance, he saw four animals in a field. Cattle, probably, he thought, although they seemed too small. He strained his eyes a little trying to make out the green blobs. Perhaps they were deer. No, they were too tall. As he closed the distance, it became apparent they were humans. DJ could also see that they were moving toward a farmhouse.
He slowed the big quad a little to get a better look. It didn’t help much at first, but as he got closer, he could see that they were carrying rifles. The one in the back was carrying something else, but he couldn’t make out what it was.
He stopped the four-wheeler and stared on as the men crossed the large field. It didn’t appear that they had any kind of night vision because each of them occasionally took an unsteady step, and one actually fell at one point. It was also clear that they’d had no tactical training. They were walking so closely together that one well-thrown grenade or one well-aimed burst from an automatic weapon would take out all four. As he watched them, he finally figured out that the last man was holding a gas can.
DJ realized these must be the guys who’d left the truck. What he wasn’t sure of was their intentions. It was obvious that they were headed to the farm to get some fuel, but how were they going to obtain it? And they had no idea there was a hole in their gas tank. That can, once poured into the leaky tank, wouldn’t take them far. He snickered at their bad fortune.
He sat and watched with interest. If the farmer traded with them, then perhaps he’d trade with DJ, as well. Hell, he thought, if I could just fill up the quad, I could probably make it without any more gas from here. DJ unzipped his jacket some. It wasn’t hot, but the air was getting thick, and he was starting to sweat a little. Finally the men were nearing the house. They huddled up for a minute, and then one of them approached the front of the house while the other three ducked away in hiding.
The hair on the back of DJ’s neck went up. Were they planning an ambush? DJ’s mind went into overdrive. They could be, but it was more likely that they were just being careful. If DJ had been part of the group, he wouldn’t have exposed all of them, either, although he might have sent two to the door instead of just one. Well, these guys were obviously not strategic geniuses, so they were probably honest. DJ hoped so. He wanted to see if they got some gas.
The man went to the door and knocked. A few seconds later, a light came on upstairs. DJ pulled off his night vision and got his binoculars. He could see the light moving through the windows, its glow floating ghostlike toward the front door. With the field glasses, he could make out the middle-aged man who opened the door. He held a hurricane lantern in one hand and gestured with the other in an animated fashion. DJ could see that he wasn’t happy, his head shaking from side to side. Clearly the four men, and DJ, would have to look elsewhere for fuel. The farmer closed the door, and the light began to reverse its path. Once on the top floor, the light extinguished.
DJ put his night vision back in place and saw the men grouped up on the edge of the complex. The man who had knocked was obviously telling the others what had been said. Then the four spread out across the front yard. A few seconds after that, the firing began.
* * *
The color drained out of Gabe’s face. He turned and bolted through the front door so rapidly, the screen door closer popped off the doorframe with a bang. Jane stood frozen for more than a minute.
She wondered if she should go after him. He hadn’t been gone very long. She could drive the truck and easily catch him before he got home. On the other hand, the long walk might give him enough time to think things through. She was praying he wouldn’t drink. If he did, it would be her fault.
Get married, she thought, scoffing at herself. She didn’t know why she’d said it; it had just kind of come out on its own. She should have held back, but things had seemed so good between them. The look on his face when she asked was the same one she would’ve seen if she’d driven a stake through his heart. She mentally kicked herself again. She should’ve known he wasn’t ready for that.
Earlier she’d headed off a relapse by kissing him. This time, in a way, that was what had started the trouble. What could she do? She had an idea, but was it right? It didn’t matter, she told herself. He was back on track, and it was her job to keep him that way. “Whatever it takes,” she whispered.
She went to her room and opened the bottom drawer of the bureau. It had been a long time since anything in it had seen the light of a flickering candle. As she pulled out the long silk garment, a wave of doubt swelled up inside her. She sat down on the bed, bringing the soft material up to her face and feeling a tear form in the corner of her eye. She made herself look deep into her motives. Was she just using him because he gave her and her son some security in these troubling times? Was that fair to him? More important, was it fair to her? Was she willing to sacrifice her principles for a little security? She forced herself to stare deeper into the abyss, past all of the justification and reasoning. Past the second-guessing and doubts, the trepidation and the fear, like a distant lighthouse, was the answer. She loved him.
Everything zoomed into view. She loved him. He was the best man she had ever known, and she loved him. Of course he’d been blown off course by the deaths of his wife and son. Who wouldn’t have been? But she loved him, flaws and all, and she wanted to make sure he knew it, even if it did drive him away.
She quickly packed the nightgown and a few other things into a small bag. She wrote a quick note to Robby, in case she wasn’t back by the time he woke up, and left it on the table. Grabbing her keys, she headed for the truck. The broken screen door banged the side of the house again as she hurried through it.
* * *
DJ was pissed. Who did these guys think they were? He jumped off the quad and quickly cut the fence with his multitool. Climbing back on, he mashed the throttle open and started toward the house. The fact that the four men were attacking told him there was gas at the farm and the farmer just didn’t want to part with it. If they killed the occupants and took what they wanted, he could get gas after they left.
DJ brought his quad to a halt and looked toward the house. The farmer was returning fire from a window on the second floor. DJ wondered how many people were inside. One would have a hard time holding off four. With nobody watching the back of the house, it would only be a matter of time before one of the raiders slipped in and blindsided the farmer.
The farmer wasn’t shooting nearly as much as the raiders. He’s either pretty smart or doesn’t have much ammo, DJ thought. One of the raiders had disappeared from DJ’s view on the far side of the house. Another was creeping toward the back on the near side. Then DJ saw a bright flash out of an upstairs side window and an instant later heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun. So there were at least two people in the house. DJ saw the raider drop to the ground and squirm. A second shot came, and the squirming stopped.
DJ cranked the bike up and resumed his course toward the house. It was clear that, more than likely, the occupants of the house would win. If he helped them, maybe they’d give him some gas. Besides, it was the right thing to do, he reasoned, even if there was no gas.
He drove as fast as he safely could toward the back of the complex, finally parking behind a barn, and removed his rifle from the custom scabbard. Switching on the sight to the night-vision setting, he began making his way to the back of the main house. When he came around the barn, he saw one of the raiders trying to kick in the back door. DJ raised the rifle and centered the man in the glowing sight circle. He squeezed the trigger, and the rifle barked. A second later, the kicker was lying motionless on the back steps.
DJ worked his way toward the front of the house, careful to stay well away from the building. He didn’t want to be mistaken for one of the raiders. It took a couple of minutes, but soon he could see one of the attackers shooting at the house from behind the cover of a large tree. The man wasn’t covered from DJ’s angle, however. He raised his rifle, and a quick double tap ended the man’s assault. The last raider broke cover and ran back toward the field. A shot from the rifle upstairs ended his retreat.
DJ was wondering if the people in the house knew they had help. Should he call out to them? Before he could decide, a man’s voice shouted down.
“Who
’s there? What do you want?”
“My name is DJ Frost. I was driving by, heard the shots, saw these men attacking your house, and came to help. I don’t really want anything. Maybe just a place to hole up for a day or two, if that’s all right.”
“How do I know you’re not one of them?”
“Well, you just saw me shoot one of them, and there’s another one on the ground outside the back door. Why would I shoot them if I was with them?”
“Maybe you saw you were losing, and you turned on your own men to get what you wanted.”
This guy has his tinfoil wrapped a little tight.
“That’s not very likely,” DJ said. “Five guys with any kind of intelligent plan would have no problem taking the house.” That was probably an exaggeration, DJ knew, but he needed to convince the man that he was a good guy. “If I hadn’t helped you, you might be the one dead right now. Besides that, I can prove I wasn’t traveling with this scum. I have a quad parked behind your barn. There’s no way five guys would fit on it.”
“That might be true, but I still don’t know if I can trust you.”
DJ decided to try a little reverse psychology. “Well, there’s no way I can absolutely prove I’m trustworthy. I’ll just continue on my way,” he said, attempting to sound disappointed.
“Wait,” a female voice called out.
DJ could hear the two voices going back and forth for a minute. He couldn’t make out the words, but it was obvious they were arguing. Finally the man called out.
“Please stay right where you are. I’m going to the barn to check out your story. If you’re telling the truth, we’ll be happy to let you stay for a few days. My wife has you covered, so don’t try anything funny.”
“No problem,” DJ answered. He saw the light being carried down the stairs again.
“Thank you so much for you help,” the woman said. “I’m sorry my husband is so suspicious.”
Collision Course Page 23
