by Justin Bell
However many bullets he had, it wouldn’t be enough.
Chapter 4
Ambient light from the moon above cast a pale, sickened pallor on the streets, a dark, glistening surface like lizard skin. Max’s muscles tensed as he took a cautious step backwards, his eyes darting from one man to another, all five of them, as they spread out from behind and in front of the car, blockading the road ahead.
Tamar drew back on his right, moving against the brick wall next to them, glancing back at the narrow alley they’d vacated.
“Don’t even try it!” one man shouted, shouldering his semi-automatic.
“Yeah, not happening!” another voice echoed from behind them and Max looked at the alley where Tamar headed and three more men had filled it, approaching them from a block away. Too far for Tamar to use his fancy footwork, and with eight gunmen, Max felt sufficiently outnumbered as well.
“Any bright ideas?” Max asked, looking over at his new friend.
Tamar shrugged. “Not really… but don’t fool yourself into thinking we can surrender, these dudes are luring us in so we’re easier to pick off. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“So we fight our way out.”
“Or go down shooting.”
“What are you carrying?” Max asked as Tamar pulled out a Glock 34, keeping it pressed against his chest to conceal it from view of the men.
“Do I look like some gun expert?” Tamar asked with a chuckle. “I just point the square end at the other guy and pull the trigger.”
“I thought you said you guys had an ex-Marine leading your crew?”
“I can field strip this bad boy and reassemble it in seventy seconds and hit a small target at 100 yards. That don’t mean I know the name, caliber, and birth date of the stupid thing.”
“Well, then I guess you’d best point that square end; they’re moving toward us.”
Up ahead, even in the low light of night, Max could see the shadowy figures of the gunmen making their way around the car, weapons raised and pointed at them. They were a hundred yards away, advancing for a better shot and with the three being Max and Tamar, coming up the alley, it would be a duck shoot.
These ducks shot back.
Max lifted his pistol with Tamar repeating the motion beside him and the moon glinted off the metal barrels, signaling to their enemies what was happening. All five of them moved in unison, stepping forward, guns leveling, converging toward the two young men. The entire horizon swirled into a dark vortex of slow motion hyper-reality, details clarifying in Max’s mind, everything grinding to a slow, plodding crawl. He couldn’t see the men but the background noise faded away and he could almost feel the air sucking out of the street, cloaking them in a strange, translucent ocean of silence where everyone moved as if they were underwater.
As his finger tensed on the trigger, he knew they were doing the same thing and that any moment, the entire street would explode in flashes of gunfire, and that he and Tamar would likely be on the losing side.
The shrill roar of an engine sounded so far away, but somehow he knew it was close, very close, coming from the street up ahead, and his eyes shifted, catching a swift flash of headlights as the sedan charged from the street, moving at a high rate of speed. With a shattering bang, the front end plowed into the trunk of the car ahead of it, the one the five men huddled around, and the smaller vehicle lurched forward, its rear end lifting up, then smashing into the ground. Three of the men stumbled backwards, while two others sprawled forward, blindsided by the sudden motion and unexpected noise of the echoing metal-on-metal crash.
“What the—?” Tamar asked, his eyes shifting toward the second car which had thrust itself up against the trunk of the first, throwing it forward and diagonal in the connecting road up ahead.
“Max! Grab your friend! Time to go!”
“Angel?” Max screamed. Up ahead the driver’s side window rolled down and he could see an arm extend, gesturing toward him. Already the gunmen were picking themselves up off the ground, just as the passenger door swung open. Max could barely make out Brad in the back seat, illuminated by the faint glow of the cloud-flanked moon.
“Come on!” Brad shouted. “Move!”
“You heard him!” Max screamed, pressing a hand to Tamar’s back and shoving him forward into a stumbling run.
“Don’t move!” the voice came from behind them and the second group of gunmen expelled themselves from the narrow alley behind them, lifting their weapons. Max spun, the revolver coming up and around and squeezed off four shots, throwing one of the shooters roughly to the ground and sending the second two scattering. He charged forward, seeing Tamar already clamoring in the back seat, but he also saw one of the men on the ground raising up on one knee and bringing his assault rifle up. Max reached across his body and emptied the pistol toward him, likely missing every shot, but he at least sent the man scrambling back to the ground, his weapon waving far left, firing up into the dark night.
Max dove forward as the sidewalk at his feet exploded into puffs of chunked asphalt, the men behind them opening fire. Ducking his head he swept into the back seat, landing in the pile of Brad and Tamar, reaching back to slam the door. Rapid thwacks of bullets on metal echoed in the tight confines of the car as he did so and the window exploded inward, showering them with gummy glass.
Angel ground the gears, but finally found reverse as two more men climbed upright and swung weapons toward them, the sedan leaping backwards as gunfire belted from rifles. Two small holes punched through the windshield as Angel cranked the wheel around, pulling the sedan into a tight reverse spin, whirling around 180 degrees, then shifting into drive and surging forward, down the dark connecting road. Gunfire faded behind them as the men continued their onslaught, but within seconds the car was too far along and the rifles' accuracy was negated at such a range.
“Everyone okay back there?” Angel shouted as he hauled the wheel to the left and banked the large car down a side street.
“Okay!” shouted Brad.
“I’m good!” said Tamar.
“No holes here,” said Max.
“Bueno! Keep your heads down!”
“How did you guys make it back to us?” Max asked.
“We had to run… abandon the car,” Brad said. “But we doubled back and Angel was able to get it started again. Found you guys by dumb luck.”
Max turned, as much as he could, huddled in the back seat. “We still got the goods back there?”
Brad nodded. “Oh yeah, I’d call this a success.”
Max glanced over at Tamar. “Tamar, this is my bud Brad. Brad, this is Tamar. He saved my bacon.”
“The bacon savin’ went both ways, dude,” Tamar replied, extending an awkward hand toward Brad. “Nice ta meetcha.”
Brad shook the proffered hand.
“So, uh… where we goin’ exactly?” Tamar asked. “My homies are all back thataway.”
“Angel?” Max asked. “We heading back to Lakeview?”
“That’s the plan, little man,” Angel replied. He took a quick right, slinking between two tall brick buildings, then sped up on the straight away, pulling away from the more congested part of Chicago suburbs. “Seems a little dicey back there.”
Tamar sat up, looking out his rear window. “Yeah, it’s dicey… but it’s also home.”
“We’ll get you back there,” Max said. “Let us get some space first, and we’ll figure out how to get you home.”
Tamar nodded, somewhat uncomfortable with the chain of events, but hesitant to speak out, considering they’d risked their lives to save his.
“We’ll be at Lakeview in about twenty minutes,” Angel said. “Once we’re there, we’ll figure it all out.”
In the back seat the boys all lifted into seated positions again, glancing out the rear window at the Chicago skyline. A faint orange glow emphasized the silhouettes of the skyscrapers and other tall buildings, making the city look like part of an especially vibrant, flame-ridden sunset.
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***
“So, you trust them?” Rebecca Fields came up on Rhonda’s left, their shoulders nearly touching, and Rhonda glanced over at her.
“Yeah. At least, I think so? They seem harmless, really. We took them in this morning, they slept most of the day.”
The three members of the Shimizu family milled around at the counter of the pretzel shop. The daughter, Kaida looked to be around thirteen years old, but she was a small thirteen, sitting on the counter, knees bent and hands resting on her legs. Her father Jiro spoke to her in Japanese, his hands moving as he did and she acknowledged his speech with the occasional curt nod. At a few moments, her eyes darted toward her uncle Daisuke, who also made motions to reassure her. A thought occurred to Rhonda as she stared at the exchange.
“You want to go talk to them?” she asked Fields.
Fields looked back at her. “I don’t need to interrogate them or anything. Just… you know… the way the world is, I have some trust issues.”
“Join the club,” Rhonda replied. “There are some folks who still wonder a little about you.” She flashed a wink to Fields, who seemed to understand what she was saying.
“Point taken,” she said, nodding.
“I really think they’re in a garbage situation like the rest of us. The uncle… Daisuke, he can’t get a hold of his wife or child in the city.”
“If they’re from the Chicago area, we may be able to get some good intel from them,” Fields said. “Possible places to restock, maybe some info about the guys who were helping out Cavendish.”
“Still no luck with the files in the helicopter?”
Fields shook her head. “Something’s missing. I was just talking to Angel about it this morning. I can see all these loose ends dangling, but I’m sure Orosco had at least some of them tied up. I just can’t find where.”
“Angel, huh?”
Field’s cheeks flushed. “Don’t start.”
Rhonda smiled and held up her palms. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
There was a moment of silence where the two women stood there, watching the Shimizu’s, not saying anything. Fields couldn’t let the silence last.
“What do you know about him?”
“Who? Angel?”
“Yeah, Angel. You’re going to make this as uncomfortable as possible, aren’t you?”
Rhonda grinned. “Well, of course. I don’t get this girly gossip very often these days, so darn right I’m going to milk it for everything it’s worth.”
“All right, all right, so spill it already. What do you know about him?”
Rhonda’s smile faltered. “Well… take this with a grain of salt, because Angel has done nothing but help us since we ran into him back in Colorado. But the fact is, he keeps his distance. From pretty much everyone. Well, everyone except you.”
Fields’ cheeks flushed again.
“But we did run into him while he was hanging around with a group of convicts.”
“Convicts?” Rebecca asked, eyes widening.
“Yeah. Some real nasty ones, too.”
“Oye. I always know how to pick ‘em.” Fields rolled her eyes and turned away from Rhonda for a moment. Rhonda put a hand on her shoulder.
“But he wasn’t like the rest of them. He risked his life to help us get away. They were ready to kill us, and he basically put himself between us and them. Genuinely saved our lives.”
“Huh. Any idea what he was in for?”
“Well, according to Greer, he was arrested for…” Rhonda trailed off for a moment. Did she want to be the one to break this to Becky? Her and Angel had formed a bond over the past eight weeks, and this was something that could shatter that relationship.
“Spill it,” Fields hissed.
“Okay, he was arrested for killing a cop.”
“Are you kidding me?”
Rhonda held up a hand. “No, I’m not kidding, but Greer supposedly talked to him about it, and it sounds like Angel was innocent. Wrong place, wrong time.”
“Yeah, that’s what they all say,” Fields snapped. “Unbelievable.”
“I think you need to cut him some slack,” Rhonda said. “I wanted to keep him at arm’s length at first, too, but he’s done nothing over the past two months except help us. Laid his life on the line multiple times, never asked for anything in return. He’s a good guy, I legitimately believe that.”
“Yeah, sounds like a real peach.”
“Just give him a chance, Rebecca, okay? Ask him about it if you must, but give him a chance. I didn’t give him a chance at first either.”
“What changed your mind?” Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her gaze at Rhonda.
“Seriously? I wasn’t lying about him risking his life. More times than I can count he was at the front of the line in a shootout. He helped Winnie get back to us after we had an accident with the RV when we first got into Illinois. Heck, I just trusted him to take Max and Brad out on a supply run! My own child. If I can trust him to do that, then I think you can give him a shot, can’t you?”
Fields shrugged. “We’ll see.”
“Speaking of which,” Rhonda continued. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen them swing back through have you? From the supply run?”
Fields shook her head. “Nope, not yet.”
Rhonda tried to shake the bad thoughts out of her head.
“Heads up,” Fields whispered. “We’re about to have company.”
Rhonda looked over and saw the Shimizu’s walking toward them. Daisuke led the way with Jiro and Kaida trending close behind.
“Excuse me,” Daisuke said quietly. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He stepped toward Fields, his eyes lingering on the shoulder holster pressed tight to her chest, on top of the bulky blue tactical vest she always wore over a white tank top. Standing there bare-armed, her toned biceps clenched as she wrapped her fingers around his and pumped.
“Rebecca Fields,” she said in a clipped, professional tone.
“Daisuke,” he said. “This is my brother Jiro and his daughter Kaida.”
Rebecca nodded to the two of them.
“You are with the FBI?” he asked, pointing at her vest which had the three letters stenciled in white near the collar.
Rebecca nodded. “Yes. Well, I suppose I used to be. I haven’t reported in to my home office in two months, they probably figure I’m either a deserter or dead.”
Rhonda flashed her an apologetic look, knowing their desperation to come save Liu and her family had drawn her, Harrison, and Orosco from their Texas station.
Rebecca waved off her concern. “So, Rhonda here says you saw the barricades fall?”
Daisuke nodded, carefully forming his words. His English was good, though heavily accented with an occasional missed word here and there. “Yes. It was terrible. Very bad. I think you are fortunate that nobody stumbled upon your safe house up here. Very dangerous out there.”
“And you’re from the area?” Fields asked, trying to not make it sound like a full-blown interrogation.
“Hai. Yes. Chicago area. I’m hoping to go back and find my wife and daughter there.”
“What have you heard about the situation in Chicago?”
“Only bad things,” Daisuke replied, shaking his head. “I fear the worst.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Fields said.
Daisuke dropped his gaze for a moment, trying not to catch her eye.
“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Fields asked. “Just about the area?”
Daisuke looked up, his face softening, seeming to find some solace in the potential of being useful.
“Of course,” he said. “However I can help.”
Fields signaled all three of them to follow her and they crossed the wide center aisle of the mall, winding around the now empty vending machines, up toward what used to be a coffee shop. Fields walked first, with Daisuke, Jiro, and Kaida following and Rhonda tagged along, bringing up the rear. Chairs and tables sat in a zi
g-zag pattern throughout the small open lobby of the coffee shop, and Rebecca motioned to a quartet of them surrounding a round table.
“Have a seat,” she said. The three Shimizu’s sat and Rebecca took the fourth chair. Rhonda slipped into a chair at a different neighboring table, watching from a distance.
“What do you do for a living?” Fields asked, making the question sound like just a personable inquiry.
“I am in technology,” Daisuke replied. “Project manager now, though I used to be in software development. Long time ago.”
“Hmm… probably not a very productive field at this point.”
Daisuke nodded. “That is for sure.” He turned toward Jiro. “Jiro, my brother, he worked in manufacturing. He was a technical operator.”
Fields nodded. “Good. Great. Have either one of you heard of Consolidated Tool & Die, by chance? They’re a local prototyping firm. Making steel molds, next generation manufacturing.”
Daisuke looked uncertain, but turned to Jiro and rattled off some Japanese. Rhonda looked at Kaida as they spoke, then waved to her, catching her eye. She smiled and waved back, but made no indication she was paying attention to the surrounding conversation.
Jiro nodded and spoke to Daisuke, who turned back to Fields. “I know of them, and Jiro knows even more of them. They were a competitor. Well, not so much a competitor, they were top of the line, the place he worked, not so top of the line.”
Fields nodded. “Do you know where their corporate offices are?”
Daisuke nodded. “I am not familiar with the company especially, but I have seen their offices. Very large building. A place I have driven past many times. Lots of glass windows, fancy signs out front. The corporate and the manufacture plant, they’re not in the same place.”
Fields nodded. “Right. Manufacturing is in Springfield, I believe. But the corporate office is what I want to know about.”
“Yes, okay. That’s good. We know where it is.”
“Is it close? Close to here?”
Daisuke nodded. “Maybe thirty miles away? Close by car, not by foot. You have cars?” he asked with a strange sense of wonder in his voice, as if a car was some kind of mythical creation, a dragon or unicorn, not just pressed metal and plastic.
