Rockford greeted us. “All right, CTs, listen up. This afternoon we’ll be participating in a desert ambush, just like you might experience if you were in the U.S. military.
“These are our vehicles.” He patted one of the FAVs. “Let me introduce you to them. These little honeys are the cream of the crop, built by Mercedes-Benz. The German Bunderswehr, that’s the German army for you civilians, uses these. The U.S. Marine Corps has used them as their interim FAV of choice.
“Each FAV has a ninety-horsepower engine that can drive up to eighty miles per hour. Each vehicle seats six—one driver and five passengers….”
He rattled off some more statistics. I’ve never figured out why men are so impressed by these numbers. Me, I didn’t even know what they meant, but I fully expected that at any moment Rockford would open the hood and everyone would take a look and be expected to “ooooh” and “aaaah” over it. Sure enough, Rockford popped the hood. Emma and I exchanged an “oh, brother” look, shaking our heads in unison. Let’s face it, in my book, you’ve seen one engine, you’ve seen too many. Emma and I stood back and let the boys, with Pussy at their center, enjoy the show.
The FAVs looked like Jeeps or pickup trucks with backseats. Each had a covered cab. In the bed of the truck, two two-person seats faced each other. A roll bar at the back of the truck bed topped off the ensemble.
I turned to Emma. “I want to ride up front. I’m in no mood to be wind-struck. Let the boys eat dust.”
“I’m with you all the way,” Emma said. “Ladies should get to ride up front. It’s only polite.”
As the guys ogled the engine, Jim and Greg, the NASCAR stunt-driving guys, came out of the building. They wore helmets and fatigues and looked ready for battle.
Rockford looked up from his dissertation on engine specs. “Our drivers have arrived.” The guys backed off and Rockford slammed the hood shut.
He gave us a quick lecture on battle strategy, how to scan for ambushers, how to communicate on the battlefield without giving away information to the enemy, and reminded us about safety. Then he divided us into two groups. Emma, Max, Hawaiian-shirted Wade, Pussy, and I were in one. Ethan, Bishop, Tanner, Q, and John in the other.
I turned to Emma. “Think he’s stacking the deck here?”
“You mean by putting all three of us ladies in the same squad?” She gave me a gentle elbow in the side. “Sure he is. We’re going to kick those men’s butts but good.”
“No, I meant putting Wade on our team. That Hawaiian shirt could glow in the dark. Double or nothing our current wager that he’s the first one out.”
“Those are shitty odds,” Emma said, considering. “But what the heck, I’m a risk taker. You’re on.”
I didn’t think it mattered much because I had a feeling Emma wasn’t ever going to pay up. And I’d pretty much lost track of how much she owed me anyway.
Rockford selected squad leaders for each team. We got stuck with Wade as our fearless leader.
I rolled my eyes at Emma as Rockford issued us laser-tag weapons that looked like machine guns, helmets with lights on top, and two-way radios.
I stared at the helmet. Another good hair-extension day shot to hell, hopefully not literally.
“We’ll be playing laser tag today.” Rockford showed off a laser machine gun. “It’s less painful and more accurate than paintball.” He looked directly at me.
Okay, so I’d complained once or twice to Torq about how the paintballs smarted. So now I was branded a baby?
“These guns use a safe, reliable, high-tech infrared system that includes a red dot scope with a five hundred-plus-foot range and anti-cheating technology. When you’re hit,” Rockford continued, “your gun makes a sound and the sensors on your helmet light up to indicate your status. Your gun is then automatically disabled for the remainder of the game.” He gave a quick demonstration on how to use the weapon, showing us what a “hit” looked and sounded like. “Any questions?”
“How do we disable a vehicle?” Tanner asked.
Rockford smiled at him like he was Mr. Brilliant himself. “Excellent question. You take out the vehicle by hitting the driver. For this exercise, only camp staff are allowed to drive the FAVs. So protect your driver at all costs or you’ll be defending yourself on foot. Anything else?”
He looked around the group, but no one had any more questions.
“Good. Let’s load up. Squad leaders ride up front with the drivers,” Rockford said. “I’ll see you CTs later. Good luck with your mission.”
Emma and I grumbled and climbed into a seat to sit side by side. Max and Pussy sat across from us. No one spoke as we put on our helmets and buckled up. The air was rife with anticipation, tension, and nerves.
I was actually feeling relieved. Lunch had passed with no revelations from the security videotapes. Sitting next to me, Emma was happily tapping her foot and humming. Across from me, a bored Pussy was putting the moves on Max, damn her conniving soul.
We were in FAV2. Greg drove. On a signal from Rockford, Greg fired up the engine and did zero to 80 in seconds flat, throwing me into Emma’s shoulder. We flew down the road through the orange groves, past the handling shack, past the trainers’ cottages, and out into the open with the 100-degree air whizzing past us. Jim drove the lead FAV. Just past the groves, he turned off the road and into the desert sand.
Cacti and brush zoomed past. All of us sat with idiot grins plastered to our faces, whooping and hollering like teenagers as Greg turned and spun in the sand. Riding in FAV2 was like riding a desert roller coaster—all unexpected spins, turns, and drops through gullies.
I sat my gun in my lap and held both hands above my head, just like I did on roller coasters. “Look! No hands.”
Emma nudged me. “Better keep your gun at ready, Domino. We could come under attack at any moment.”
Wade turned around and shouted over the rush of the wind and the roar of the engine. “All of you, keep your eyes peeled for signs of enemy vehicles.” He turned back around and leaned his gun out the window as he searched the horizon with binoculars for signs of enemy troops.
I turned to Emma. “Who do you think the attackers will be?”
“Fry, Torq, and Rockford, most likely.”
I nodded my agreement.
Greg surged ahead, swerving to avoid a giant saguaro. We headed toward the empty Hassayampa River. Greg drove full-bore down one side of the riverbank into the wash below and back up the far bank, zigzagging his way across the river in a pattern that made us lose our stomachs at regular intervals.
I smelled a setup. The riverbed was the perfect place to attack us. We couldn’t see into the distance any farther than the riverbank. Any old ambusher could surprise us by rushing from over the bank. Greg read my thoughts.
“They can’t see us, either,” he said, smiling at us in the rearview mirror. “Keep your eyes peeled. We’re more vulnerable, but we’re also stealthier down here.”
Just as he finished speaking, an FAV came barreling over the far bank on our right rear flank, closing fast. Two gunners rode in the back. One attacker drove.
“Look! There they are.” Max pointed them out to the rest of us, though we’d all spotted them already, and judging from their expressions, everyone felt the same rush of adrenaline and fear. Everyone but Pussy. She just looked bored.
“One vehicle.” I gave the others a smug smile. “Without Davie, that’s all the manpower they can muster. We’re going to kick their ass.” Okay, I spouted more bravado than I felt, but someone needed to build up the troops.
Greg floored it. I sneaked a peek at the speedometer. We were topped out at 80 mph.
Trying to show off, Wade yelled something about evasive action. Jim drove FAV1 up the bank and out of our sight. I hoped Wade and the FAV1 gang had a plan. I would’ve sent them off to either double back and cover our flank or lie in wait up ahead. Max, Emma, and I readied our weapons.
The enemy let FAV1 go and barreled in on us. Greg kept the pedal to
the floor as the enemy closed the gap and Wade yelled commands.
I was so high on thrill that the 007 theme played in my mind. I hummed it out loud.
“Would you stop?” Emma said.
“Oh, come on, you all hear it, too.” I kept humming. “You know, this reminds me of that scene where Bond is racing down the mountain toward Monte Carlo and a Ferrari overtakes him,” I said to Emma. “Or the chase through Hong Kong on the motorcycle handcuffed to China’s top agent, Wai Lin.” I could picture myself as a Wai Lin-type character—beautiful top agent and lethal shot on the run. “Only an FAV is way better than a motorcycle.”
“Yeah, but we aren’t handcuffed to Bond. That’s a handicap I could get used to.” Emma didn’t look at me but kept her sights on the approaching enemy FAV.
“I don’t like this,” Max said. “They let FAV1 go too easily.”
I aimed my gun at the approaching vehicle, waiting for a clear shot. “What else could they do? We outnumber them twelve to three.”
He gave me a “yeah, but …” look.
Okay, so they were well trained and experienced. We still outnumbered them. I wasn’t that worried.
I turned to Emma, whose eyes were afire with adrenaline. She had her sights trained on the driver and windshield. “When they get within range, that driver is mine.”
Greg picked a path through the center of the riverbed, dodging outcrops of rock and dips and bumps in the terrain, trying to lose our ambusher.
Unfortunately, whoever drove for the enemy matched Greg’s skill. We were several lengths ahead of our pursuers, but each time Greg swerved, our pursuers made up ground.
Wade shouted into his two-way, communicating with FAV1.
“I hope he’s directing them to come around and cover our flank or launch a sneak attack as we lure the enemy past them,” I said to the group at large.
Wade spun around in his seat to face us. “Hold your fire. Wait for my signal.”
“One. Two—”
“Over there.” Max pointed to the riverbank on our left where an FAV appeared from nowhere over the edge of the bank and headed directly into our path to cut us off.
“Shit! Hold your fire.” Wade got back on his two-way, screaming for backup as the first enemy FAV gained on us.
“Everyone hold on!” Greg said. “Let the fun begin.”
He slowed our FAV and executed a perfect bootlegger, then gunned it and zoomed back past the first enemy vehicle.
Once we recovered our equilibrium, those of us in the back whooped and yelled.
“Whoohoo, fooled you!” Emma yelled just as a volley of fire erupted.
Our euphoria was short-lived. The enemy let fly a serious round of fire. Their aim was deadly accurate.
“What are they using, automatic lasers?” I ducked just in time to avoid being hit.
Across from me, Pussy’s gun sounded off and her helmet lit up. “They got me,” she said with a complete lack of enthusiasm.
Emma leaned into me. “Pussy’s first out, not Wade. You owe me what now? Eighty bucks maybe?”
“I owe you nothing. Pussy wasn’t even trying.” I shot Pussy a look full of daggers. “We have a Pussy down,” I yelled up to Wade. I wanted to say “wussy,” but I was being nice.
The enemy FAVs executed their own perfect bootleggers and roared back in hot pursuit.
“Damn, those guys can drive, too,” Emma said, stating the obvious. “It must be a stunt driver’s holiday out here. Where’d they recruit all these boys from?”
Just as she spoke, Wade got off the radio. “FAV1's under heavy fire. They’re calling for backup.”
“They’re calling for backup?” Emma and I said in unison.
“How many of these guys are there?” I looked at Emma, who shrugged.
“I don’t know, but I’m not going down without firing a shot.” Emma took aim and fired behind us at the two FAVs, which were just in range of our guns. Both shots hit.
“I hadn’t noticed before that you’re such a good shot,” I said to her as I got off my own round.
“Just lucky.”
My shots went high.
Greg gunned it through the laser fire and sped us around a bend in the river, temporarily taking us out of sight of our pursuer.
Emma’s gun whooped and her helmet light came on. “Damn, damn, damn! I’m out.” She tossed her gun on the floor in disgust.
“We need a plan,” I said, turning to Wade. “What do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” he said through clenched teeth. “Dead men don’t make plans.”
That’s when I noticed his helmet.
“You, too?”
“And me,” Greg said. “I’m going to have to pull over.”
I glanced around wildly, feeling panic settling in.
“I’m still standing,” Max said, giving me a thumbs-up.
I gave him a halfhearted return thumbs-up, trying to hide my disappointment. Going up against Fry and Torq with only Max at my side wasn’t a thrilling prospect. Given a choice between him and Pussy, I’d be tempted to choose Pussy. At least she’d show them some cleavage and make a valiant effort to charm and seduce them, giving me a chance to escape and go for reinforcements. A man is a man is a man in her book. And they’re all good.
Greg took us down the riverbed and pulled behind a large cactus before cutting the engine. “This is the best I can do for you guys. You’re on your own now.”
I took control. “We’ll have to go on foot. If they catch us here, we’re dead.”
“Right, chief. The old go-on-foot trick. That gets them every time.” Max nodded his agreement.
I rolled my eyes.
We unbelted and jumped from the truck, running toward the next bend in the river, with the roar of an FAV close on our tails. Powered by adrenaline and sheer survival instinct, I was pumping, really running for it. Max was six inches taller than me, with long strides and the build of a distance runner, but I managed to keep pace with him. Luck must have been on our side. We rounded the corner before the enemy FAV came into sight behind us.
“Take cover there,” Max said, pointing to a large rock. We both collapsed against it, panting from the exertion and heat.
“What now?” I was really sucking wind. Probably spies should get more exercise than sitting behind a desk, looking at numbers ten hours a day. I made a mental note to renew my 24 Hour Fitness membership when I got back.
“I don’t think they spotted us. They’ll stop to inspect the vehicle and then come looking for us once they notice we’re missing.” He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Our only hope is to lie in wait and ambush them when they head this way.”
Okay, Max was smart. That was good. I nodded my agreement.
He wiped his brow again and frowned before pulling his water bottle from his belt. “We should be sweating more. We’d better rehydrate before moving on. If we get heatstroke, we’re toast out here.”
I heeded his advice. The temperature was easily over one hundred, the sun, blistering. I took my water bottle from my belt and took a swig. Max did the same.
“Here’s as good a place as any to wait for them.” I tapped the large rock we leaned against.
He shook his head no. “We’d be better off splitting up. The old divide-and-conquer trick.”
“Yeah, but we’re supposed to be dividing them, not us.” I took another swig of water and put the bottle back on my belt.
Max grinned and pointed downstream, if you can call any place in a dry riverbed downstream. “We don’t have much time. You stay here. You’re the better shot. I’ll head that way and catch whatever you miss.”
We tuned our radios to the same frequency and Max headed off, running downriver toward the next bend. We seemed to have ended up on the twisty-turny part of the river that snaked its way along in tight curves. Max planned to ambush them from the next bend.
He was maybe a hundred yards from me when an armed man stepped from behind an outcropping
on the far side of the river and took aim at him.
Max saw him before I could let loose a scream to alert him and began running with the attacker in pursuit. I took aim, but they were both out of range of my weapon. All I could do was say a little prayer for Max.
Max was quick, but the attacker was quicker, athletically built, and moving stealthily and confidently like a predatory soldier. He was closing the gap quickly.
Max panicked. Rather than turning to face his attacker and fire, he kept running toward the bend, looking back over his shoulder like a coward.
“Turn and face him,” I muttered, willing him some intestinal fortitude. “Stand and fight like a real CT.”
I considered running after them, but not being a world-class sprinter, there was no way I’d catch them. Since I was the team’s last hope, I was better off waiting to ambush whoever else happened by. Nevertheless, I was riveted to the scene before me.
“Go, Max, go!” I muttered, willing him to run faster.
Max tripped and stumbled, nearly falling. He caught himself and continued on. The attacker had slowed and was taking deliberate aim just as Max, still looking back over his shoulder, put on a burst of speed, lengthening his stride.
Then Max stumbled forward and screamed, falling out of sight as if off a ledge.
“Maaaxxx!!”
Chapter Fifteen
The attacker ran toward the spot where Max had fallen off the face of the earth and peered over the edge, making what I assumed was a gesture of victory. I couldn’t see his face. His back was toward me.
I was stoked with worry. How dare Max scare me like this and leave me all alone to fight the bad guys. How dare he take that theatrical fall! AND HOW DARE EVIL ATTACK MAN SHOOT MY FRIEND!
I was going to get retribution on the bad man. And then I was going to kill Max for frightening the spit out of me.
With Evil Attack Man’s attention diverted, I sneaked up on him, intent on taking him out, payback for Max. I sighted my weapon, aimed carefully, and prayed. I figured I had only one shot to do the job. After that, he’d be alerted to my presence. I concentrated on everything Torq had taught me at the firing range, felt Torq’s hand guiding mine and steadying my aim. I took a deep breath and held it. Then I squeezed the trigger.
Spy Candy Page 17
