The Nightmare Thief

by Meg Gardiner

  Gabe smiled, as robotically as Von had. “Just wondering what sort of birthday party you’re celebrating.”

  Von took a business card from his shirt pocket. “Edge Adventures. The ultimate in urban reality games.”

  Dustin walked over, water bottle hanging from his hand. “Yeah, we’re federal agents, guarding our prisoner. See?”

  He opened the front door of the Hummer. A rifle was propped on the seat. Jo recognized the curved ammunition clip and tall front sight on the stubby barrel. It was an AK-47.

  The girl whose feet were protruding from the Hummer sat up. “Badass. We are badasses.”

  She pitched back on the seat again.

  Jo checked the jumper leads. The Hummer’s engine was gunning. “Think you’re all set.”

  Gabe disconnected the cables from the pickup’s battery. Jo caught his eye. He was wearing The Look.

  Not his laid-back all-is-well look. The other one. It set Jo’s nerves on edge.

  He slammed the hood of the pickup. Casually, he said, “Let’s roll.”

  Von stuffed the rag in his pocket, his eyes on Gabe. “The weapons are decommissioned.” He gestured at Peach Fuzz. “Friedrich’s an ex-cop, and we have former military on staff. Everything’s cool.”

  “Great.”

  Gabe leaned into the crew cab and put the cables away. Under his breath he said, “Bullshit.”

  He glanced at Ritter. “His gun’s patently a toy, something the guy picked up at a Battlestar Galactica convention. But the others are working firearms.”

  Behind him, one of the girls turned up the music and began dancing. Ritter slammed the hood of the Hummer. Von clapped his hands. “Everybody, let’s go.”

  Gabe glanced at them edgeways. “I’ve been on one of these role-playing weekends. In Finland, with a bunch of think-tank guys. Executives playing Cold War. One side gets captured by a Russian tank, then out pop the ‘Soviet’ invaders—a bunch of Finnish lingerie models in Red Army hats. They had real Kalashnikovs, but it was obvious at a glance they’d been deactivated. The barrels were plugged. The firing pins had been removed. Colored tags were hanging from their muzzles to identify them as ‘safe,’” he said. “Whatever this game is, it’s a bad one.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Jo was planning to drive straight down the mountain to the sheriff’s station. When she got there she’d tell the deputies about this drunken rodeo.

  Behind her, Dustin stood by the door of the Hummer. “Lark, where’s Peyton?”

  They looked around. The blonde in raspberry velour had wandered into the trees.

  “Peyton,” Lark called.

  Dustin shouted, “Mackie, get back here. We got boot camp. And after that, you got escaped felons to hunt.”

  He reached into the Hummer and picked up the AK-47 from the front seat. “Peyton, come back before I come after you.”

  He slung the strap over one shoulder like he was Rambo. The muzzle began to come up.

  Gabe jumped at him. “Don’t.” He got his hand on the barrel and pushed it down. “Aim the barrel downrange. Never aim it at anybody.”

  Dustin spun away. “What’s your problem? The gun’s fake. Fake.”

  He ostentatiously swept the rifle in an arc, aimed it at the trees, and pulled the trigger.

  The rifle fired. Four shots in a close burst, the sound cracking the air. Orange flame spit from the barrel, cartridge casings ejected, and the rounds hit the trunk of a pine. One two three four, splintering the wood in a rising progression.

  The girls screamed. For the time it took to blink, Jo stood shocked. Then she yelled, “Get down,” and dived to the ground behind the pickup.

  Gabe lunged at Dustin, twisted the rifle from Dustin’s grip, and shoved Dustin away from him. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Dustin stared at the rifle with horror. “Jesus, what—? That thing . . .”

  Peyton ran into the clearing. “What was that?”

  Autumn clenched her fists in front of her mouth. Her eyes looked like silver dollars. Dustin gazed at her, baffled and terrified.

  For a moment, the echo of gunfire stank around the clearing. Ritter looked stunned but hyperalert, as if ready to jump—in what direction, Jo couldn’t tell. Von, his face white, raised his hands calmingly.

  “Sorry. It was supposed to be a surprise. My fault,” he said.

  Gabe spun on him. “Surprise?”

  “Live-fire exercises when we get to the assault training course.” He tried to smile. “That shouldn’t a happened.”

  Autumn raised both hands and said, “That’s it. I’m out.”

  She stalked toward the back of the Hummer. “This entire thing is screwed. Where’s my phone? I’m calling my dad.”

  Von turned. “No.”

  She opened the luggage compartment. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  She froze. Then she screamed.

  In the luggage compartment, a large green duffel bag had fallen partially open. A body was stuffed inside. A man’s blood-soaked shirt was visible. Autumn lurched back. Friedrich charged, grabbed her by the hair, and twisted her to her knees.

  Gabe took the rifle in both hands and brought it up and got his finger on the trigger. But behind him came the sound of a slide being racked on a semiautomatic pistol. Von and Friedrich both had guns in their hands, aimed at his head.

  “Put it down,” Von said.

  Jo saw Gabe inhale. He was calculating. But the gunmen were too far apart to guarantee he could hit them both before they could get him. And there were too many people in the field of fire.

  “On the ground,” Von said.

  Gabe put the rifle down and raised his hands.

  For a moment the air seemed to tremble. Then the young man with GRIER on the back of his shirt turned and bolted for the trees.

  Friedrich swung his gun and sighted it on the kid’s back. The boy pounded toward the forest, arms flailing.

  Autumn and Lark screamed, “No.”

  “Friedrich,” Von yelled.

  Friedrich fired. The shot blew Grier off his feet.

  11

  Grier dropped to the dirt like a bag of sand. The shot echoed. Blood bloomed through his shirt. Autumn screamed, a loud, continuing wail.

  Ritter shouted, “What are you doing?”

  Jo lurched to her feet. And found a pistol pointed at her face.

  “Don’t move,” Friedrich said.

  A quicksilver fear rolled through her. Friedrich looked frantic. The gun was matte black. The bleak eye at the end of the barrel wandered across her face.

  She struggled to keep her voice level. “I’m holding still. I’m unarmed.”

  Peyton applauded. “Bravo.”

  She wandered to the center of the clearing, offering a big, slow handclap. “Give Grier a hand.” She whistled. “Grier, you can get up. Take a bow.”

  Autumn pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

  Peyton waved, broadly, at Jo and Gabe. “And welcome our newest escaped convicts.” She laughed again. “Don’t you get it? They’re with Edge.”

  Dustin looked like he’d just pissed himself. Noah stood, hands raised, blinking like a strobe light. Gabe was sweeping the scene with his gaze, checking that nobody else with a weapon was behind him. He was looking for an out.

  Von aimed his pistol at Ritter. “Get Grier out of sight. Into the trees.”

  Ritter cringed across the clearing. He picked up Grier’s feet and began dragging him away. Von casually took out his phone and snapped a photo of the body.

  Peyton watched, swaying. Grier’s face dragged along the dirt, painting a trail with blood. Slowly, finally, understanding fired in her eyes. She gasped. Then she ran for the trees jaggedly, arms extended, hands like starfish.

  Von picked up the rifle and tossed it to Friedrich. “Get them all in the Hummer.”

  He racked the slide on his pistol and charged after Peyton.

  Autumn screamed, “No!”

  Friedrich shoved her into the
Hummer, then swung the gun toward Dustin. Hacking—“Don’t shoot me”—Dustin stumbled in after her. Autumn clutched at him. Friedrich leveled the gun at Noah’s knees.

  “Chill, man. I’m going.” Hands out, gesturing for calm, Noah climbed in as well. Lark was right behind.

  Friedrich grabbed Jo by the biceps and beckoned Gabe. “You too. Right now.”

  Gabe’s gaze was riveted on Friedrich. On Friedrich’s momentum and direction and his jittering gun hand. Jo knew what he was thinking, what he was desperate to signal to her: Don’t get in the Hummer.

  If she climbed in that vehicle she was trapped. The quicksilver ran cold in her veins. She balked in Friedrich’s grip.

  He shoved the gun against her side and shouted at Gabe. “In, now. Or she gets a new orifice in her rib cage.”

  “Don’t,” Gabe said. “Lower the weapon. I’ll get in.”

  In the trees beyond the clearing, Peyton’s screams deteriorated into sobbing. Von reappeared, hauling the girl by her hair. She was barely keeping her feet beneath her.

  Gabe climbed into the Hummer. Jo stood rigid on the dirt. Friedrich rose on his toes and put his orange mustache near her ear.

  “This gun has fifteen in the magazine. If you’re not in the vehicle in two seconds, I’ll start with your boyfriend.”

  Jo couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow. She climbed into the Hummer.

  Von shoved Peyton in behind her, sobbing. The girl fell to her knees on the thick carpet. Lark grabbed her and held her tightly.

  Ritter finished dragging Grier’s body to the trees and staggered back, tracked by the rifle under Friedrich’s gaze. Ritter’s eyes looked wild, spinning with shock.

  “Hurry up,” Friedrich said.

  Von turned to make sure Ritter was cooperating. Jo looked at Gabe. Last chance—the door on the far side of the vehicle. She scrambled across the Hummer.

  Friedrich fired the pistol into the backseat. The report was shockingly loud. Fabric flew and cordite stank up the air. The screaming came from all directions.

  “What the fuck?” Dustin yelled. His gaze rounded on Jo. “Hold still.”

  He grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and yanked her back. She fell on her butt on the floor.

  Jo sank her fingernails into his wrist. Then Gabe grabbed Dustin’s arm and twisted, quick and sharp.

  Dustin let go. His eyes shone like cracked marbles. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Von shoved Ritter into the passenger compartment, climbed in after him, and slammed the door. Friedrich jumped behind the wheel and put the huge vehicle in gear.

  The Hummer lurched forward, tires spinning, and slewed across the dirt in a brown swirl of dust. Von braced himself on the seat, pistol raised. Dustin’s chest rose and fell. His gaze was frightened and resentful. Peyton cringed into a ball on the backseat, sobbing, fingers jammed in her mouth. Beside her, Kyle Ritter stared at Von, his face blank and hard.

  Autumn sat rigid, blinking like an otter in the sunlight, fingers clenching the plush red seat. Lark and Noah had tumbled to the floor beside Jo. They looked like stunned fish.

  Von held the gun steady. “Everybody lock your hands behind your head.”

  They cinched their fingers behind them. The narrow road rose up the mountainside. Friedrich accelerated. The Hummer had power, but in the altitude the engine labored. The trees whipped past. Von wiped his hand under his nose.

  He gestured to Jo and Gabe. “Pockets. Empty ’em.”

  They threw their phones across the limo. Von scooped them up.

  He nodded at Gabe. “Back pocket too, hombre.”

  Reluctantly Gabe took out his folded buck knife and slid it across the carpet to him.

  “Nobody move. Not a muscle.” Von climbed over the bench seat into the driver’s compartment.

  Peyton’s sobs subsided to whimpers. Autumn was shaking. “Grier.” She turned to Dustin, buried her face against his shoulder, and cried. He whispered in her ear, “Quiet.”

  In the driver’s compartment, Friedrich shot Von a crazed look. “What do we do?”

  “We keep driving. We get there, and then we deal with it.”

  “You know that Dane’s gonna flip,” Friedrich said.

  “Shut up.”

  “And Sabine’s gonna have your balls for breakfast.”

  Jo’s stomach was cramping. Von, Friedrich, Dane, Sabine. They were being kidnapped by the damned Trapp Family Singers.

  Ritter looked stunned. “My first scenario. I can’t believe it.”

  Gabe said, “You work for Edge Adventures?”

  “Started this week,” Ritter said.

  “You see this gang before today?”

  “No. Just Mr. Coates, the head guy. And I don’t know where he is.”

  I bet he’s in the luggage compartment, Jo thought.

  The asphalt ran out and the road became packed gravel. It kicked under the tires, loud and insistent. The Hummer bumped over a rut and everybody jostled against one another.

  Von leaned toward Friedrich. Low and hard, he said, “We can’t just dump them by the roadside.”

  Ritter whispered to Jo. “I thought something was wrong when these people showed up. They seemed surprised to see me.”

  They crossed a bridge. The tires droned on the concrete. Jo caught a glimpse of whitewater in the river below.

  Dustin inhaled. “We gotta do something.”

  Noah, the quieter of the two college boys, murmured, “What?”

  Von turned and stared at them. The gun loitered in his hand. “Keep quiet.” He turned back to Friedrich. “This is a clusterfuck of major proportions. We got three people we never counted on and the kids know what’s happening. We have to keep going. All we can do is get to the location and lock everybody down.”

  Friedrich shook his head. “We’re screwed.”

  “We’re screwed worse if we toss them out someplace.”

  Friedrich glanced in the mirror, and Jo’s stomach gripped. She was afraid he was thinking, Only if we toss them out alive.

  The Hummer boated over the gravel. The road was curving up a steep gorge. The tires ran along the road’s edge, close to a drop-off.

  “Just don’t slow down,” Von said. “Volvo’s two hours behind us. We get there, we lock everybody down, we think it through.”

  Dustin gritted his teeth and hissed, “We should jump them.”

  Gabe gave him a slow, considered look. “What are you talking about?”

  “We outnumber them. We can take them by surprise. Get control of the car.”

  Peyton shook her head, quick little movements. “No,” she whispered. “Grier. No, no, no.”

  The road curved strongly, following the river in a hard continuous turn. Everybody slid toward the left side of the limo. The vehicle bumped over the uneven gravel surface. The trees grew thick on the right side of the road. The mountains rose behind. The gorge yawned on their left.

  Jo scrambled onto a seat and buckled her seat belt. Autumn watched and did likewise.

  Dustin lowered his voice to a sharp whisper. “We can swarm them.”

  Gabe didn’t move. “Bad idea.”

  Dustin looked at Noah. “We can take them.”

  Von glanced at them, suspicious, but they were speaking too quietly to be overheard. He resumed his manic dialogue with Friedrich.

  Dustin’s breathing picked up. He whispered, “They’re going to kill us all.”

  “This is not the place,” Gabe said.

  Dustin turned to him, pale, almost seasick. “And who are you, some guy who works at USF? Me and Noah and Ritter here, we charge. Three on one. You can sit here with your girlfriend if you want, but we have at least three men who can do this.”

  Gabe’s eyes flashed, briefly, and dimmed again. “Not yet. Not here.”

  His gaze slid toward the window. The Hummer was rocketing along the rutted gravel road, bouncing like a runaway covered wagon. To their left, an eroded gradient dropped into the depths of the gorge. There was
no guardrail.

  Jo whispered, “Dustin, look outside. Don’t be rash.”

  They had no margin for error. The gorge was so deep that she couldn’t see the bottom. The light swept across the interior of the limo as they continued to bowl around the long, sweeping bend.

  Friedrich’s hands jerked back and forth on the wheel like a cartoon character’s. “We are screwed. Royally.”

  “Shut up.”

  Von got out a cell phone and punched numbers. As he did, a chime echoed from his pocket. Jo recognized the sound: It was her phone, sending a message. Von pulled her cell out.

  Dustin’s breathing accelerated. “He’s distracted.”

  Dustin tensed. Gabe shot out an arm to grab him, but Dustin was beyond reach and in motion. Shouting like a wild man, he threw himself at the front seat.

  Von heard the disturbance and turned, phone to his ear. Dustin lunged into the driver’s compartment and tackled him.

  Friedrich’s head whipped around. “Shit—”

  Gabe moved too, fast as a snake. Ritter was a beat behind him.

  Jo saw Dustin’s flailing legs and grunting face. He was fighting Von for control of the gun. Noah scrambled toward the melee. The pistol waved in Von’s hand. Jo watched it swing. She couldn’t possibly reach it. She couldn’t get anywhere close to helping.

  Friedrich gaped and lifted his foot off the gas.

  “No,” Von yelled. “Faster—don’t let them jump out.”

  Friedrich slammed on the power again. The Hummer leapt forward.

  With Dustin in the way, Gabe couldn’t get close enough to grab Von’s gun. Instead, he swept his right arm around the headrest, grabbed Von by the hair, and smashed his head against the door frame.

  “Dustin, aim the gun away from us,” Gabe said.

  Von twisted and submarined and kicked like a trapped bull. Gabe slammed his head against the door frame again. With his left hand he gouged at Von’s eyes. Von’s knees came up and his feet kicked the dash and the gearshift and the windshield. Friedrich turned his head.

  Von’s boot connected with it. Hard.

  Friedrich’s head snapped sideways. He jerked the wheel.

  Jo had a sick, falling sensation. No, don’t. Stay on the road.