Grave Vengeance

by Lori Sjoberg

  A flash of movement outside caught Dmitri’s attention. It was Gwen, slipping behind the wheel of the truck. The door swung shut, and she disappeared from view. What the hell was she doing out there? Had she somehow noticed that he was in trouble, or was she simply out stretching her legs?

  Dmitri slanted his gaze toward Vickers. Sweat beaded the poor guy’s forehead, and his pulse beat wildly at the base of his throat. But he was holding it together, and for that he deserved credit. Most people would wet themselves if held at gunpoint.

  “You doing okay?” he asked Vickers.

  The old man nodded, tension rolling off him in waves. “This isn’t how I imagined spending my day. Who are you people anyway?”

  Dmitri leaned closer and kept his voice just above a whisper. “Believe it or not, I’m the good guy. Follow my lead, and you’ll make it out alive.”

  Wanda ended the call and stuffed the phone back inside her pocket. “Where’s the girl?” she barked at Dmitri.

  “Beats me. It’s not my turn to watch her.” He chanced another peek outside. No sign of Gwen, but his instincts told him that she was still inside the truck. He nodded toward Vickers. “Why don’t you let him sit down? He doesn’t look good.”

  Catching the hint, Vickers clutched at his chest. “It’s my blood pressure,” he panted. “I need my medication. It’s on the counter by the refrigerator.”

  Wanda pursed her lips. “You can get your meds when the others arrive.” She motioned toward one of the chairs by the fireplace. “Sit.”

  Vickers sank down on the recliner, his face white with fear.

  “He needs them now,” Dmitri insisted.

  “And I said later.”

  “He might not make it to later.”

  Wanda smirked as she patted the purse hanging from her shoulder. “Not my problem. I got what I came for.”

  What a bitch. He’d make her pay for that later.

  Outside, a vehicle started, and Dmitri recognized the sound of the truck’s engine.

  With her gun still trained on Dmitri, Wanda stepped back until she stood in front of the window. Her brow wrinkled as the truck lurched forward. “What the—”

  An explosion blew out the cabin’s front window and buried Wanda under a pile of debris. Dmitri rushed across the room and was on her in a second, smacking her head against the floorboards before grabbing her gun and the purse with the relic inside.

  “Are you okay?” he asked Vickers as he retrieved the artifact from Wanda’s purse.

  Covered in debris dust, the old man nodded, his eyes wide and unblinking.

  “Good. I’m taking this. Thanks for your help. Now go take care of your wife.” Already, Wanda was coming around, and he needed to clear out before reinforcements arrived. Before turning to go, he met Vickers’s stunned gaze and mentally compelled the old man to forget what Dmitri looked like.

  Artifact in hand, he ran out the door, jumping off the porch and barreling for the truck.

  “Get in!” Gwen shouted from behind the wheel.

  The second he dove through the passenger side door, Gwen stomped on the gas. The engine revved, and he braced a hand against the dashboard while the truck peeled down the driveway in reverse. Back at the house, Wanda crawled out from under the debris. Her hair was caked in dirt and dust, and a gash on her forehead bled profusely. Anger puckered her face as she scrambled to her feet and raced toward the minivan parked in the front yard.

  Rooting under the seat, Dmitri pulled out his Glock. From a moving vehicle, it would be a tough shot, but at the very least he could blow out the front tires and make it harder for Wanda to give chase.

  “Don’t waste your bullets,” Gwen shouted over the roar of the engine. “I got this.”

  Before he could ask what she meant, Gwen hit the brakes and yanked the wheel to the left. The force of momentum spun the truck around so the front end faced the main road. She snatched her phone off the seat and tapped her finger against the display.

  Two seconds later, the resulting explosion shook the ground and blew apart Wanda’s minivan. And since Wanda was standing by the driver’s side door, the blast blew her apart as well.

  “Have fun healing from that, bitch.” Gwen put the truck in gear and peeled out onto the main road.

  “You could have just disabled the starter.”

  A satisfied smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

  It took every ounce of his discipline not to smile in return. “Where’d you get the explosives?”

  Gwen checked the rearview mirror as she shifted into fourth. “I had some Torpex in my bag.” She said it casually, as if every woman stocked high explosives in case of emergency.

  “What don’t you have in that bag?”

  “Not much.”

  “Got any more?”

  “Nope, that was my last pack.”

  “Too bad. Wanda called for backup before you demolished the cabin. You better step on it, because we’re about to have company.”

  “They’re already here.” She gestured toward a navy sedan and a white SUV approaching from the opposite direction. The weasel in the passenger seat of the sedan was part of the duo that shot at them in Virginia. His mouth dropped open as they crossed paths. “Look familiar?”

  “Shit. Think he recognized us?”

  Brakes screeched as the vehicles spun around.

  “I’d say that’s a safe bet.” She adjusted her grip on the wheel. “How do you want to play this? Fight or flight?”

  The crackle of automatic gunfire filled the air. One round pinged off the truck’s metal frame, while another shattered the passenger side rearview mirror.

  As much as he enjoyed a good fight, he knew better than to engage while they were outnumbered and outgunned. “Flight, until we find a defensible position. Then we tear the assholes apart.”

  “Works for me.” Eyes narrowed, she punched the gas, and the tires squealed as the truck veered around a tight curve.

  Dmitri rolled down the window, shoved his torso through the open space, and fired half the clip in his Glock. A few rounds punctured the windshield of the sedan, and the car swerved onto the soft shoulder. The SUV behind it picked up speed and charged ahead. The barrel of a gun poked out the passenger side window, and a burst of gunfire peppered the truck with bullets.

  “Shit!” Dmitri darted back inside, cradling his right arm.

  “Are you hit?”

  “Just grazed. I’m fine.” Actually, the wound stung like a son of a bitch, but he ignored the burning sensation. The bullet had ripped through the muscle without shattering the bone, and for that he considered himself lucky. Leaning back out the window, he fired off the remaining rounds before coming back in to reload.

  The sedan steered back onto the road, far behind but gaining speed.

  “Can’t this thing go faster?” He ejected the magazine and slapped in a fresh one. The SUV was less than fifty yards behind and closing the distance rapidly. Another burst of gunfire erupted, and the back window by Dmitri’s head splintered.

  “Not if I want to stay on the road,” she snapped.

  In all fairness, she had a point. The truck wasn’t built for taking hairpin turns at a high rate of speed, leaving them at a serious disadvantage. And with dense forest flanking one side of the winding road and a five hundred-foot drop-off on the other, there wasn’t much margin for error.

  The truck screeched around another curve, and it felt like the tires on the passenger side briefly lifted off the ground.

  Wind whipped Dmitri’s hair as he shoved his upper body out the window again. Taking aim, he fired four rounds at the vehicle pursuing them. Two bullets pierced the front grill, and steam spewed from the punctured radiator. The SUV kept going so he took out one of the front tires, and the car slowed to a stop along the shoulder.

  “One down, one to go.”

  “Three to go.” Gwen pointed forward.

  About a tenth of a mile down the road, an old P
ontiac and a station wagon blocked their only avenue of escape. Three men and a woman stood to the side, their rifles trained in their direction.

  “Fuck.” Three bullets left in the clip wouldn’t go far against a squad of four.

  “Get your head down, I’m going through.” The roadblock was less than five hundred yards away. Gwen pulled a .38 revolver from the waistband of her jeans and placed it on her lap.

  “No way. They’ll fill you full of lead.”

  Three hundred yards.

  “You got any better ideas?”

  Two hundred yards.

  Not really. He grabbed her gun before she had the chance to object. “In that case, I’m giving you cover.”

  At twenty-five yards, he fired blindly toward the roadblock. Three of the reapers dove for cover, while the last one aimed and fired. The first round missed them but the second slug struck the windshield, punching a hole just below the rearview mirror but failing to shatter the glass.

  “Hang on!”

  With no time left to fasten the seat belt, Dmitri white-knuckled the grab handle on the ceiling and braced for impact.

  Chapter 10

  The sound of metal crunching split the air as Gwen cut the wheel to the right and plowed into the rear panel of the car closest to the woods. The force of the impact spun the Pontiac around, pulverized the back end, and sent the rear bumper flying into the trees. With her foot never leaving the gas, she used five thousand pounds of truck to shove what was left of the car aside.

  Free of the wreck, she picked up speed, barreling down the mountain road so fast the tires barely touched the road.

  “Nice job,” Dmitri said as he looked back at the wreckage. “But we still have two on our tail.”

  Gwen took her hand off the gearshift long enough to hitch her thumb toward the rear bench seat. “I got your weapons bag out of the toolbox while you were inside the cabin. It’s under the bench.”

  Dmitri scowled. “You could have told me that five minutes ago.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I was busy.”

  With a grunt, he twisted his body between the seats and flipped up the back bench. Sure enough, he found his black duffel tucked next to Gwen’s bag and purse. The weight of the duffel made it difficult to maneuver, but he managed to hoist it to the front of the cab and dump it on the floor by his feet.

  “Much better,” he said as he slapped a fresh magazine into his Glock. He pulled a pump-action shotgun out of the bag and began loading shells into the tube. “If I’d known we’d have to deal with these assholes, I would have packed my AR-15.”

  “And I would have brought more explosives.” She grinned and then flinched when a bullet tore off the driver’s-side mirror. Twisting around in her seat, she glared at the vehicles in pursuit.

  The navy sedan was less than twenty feet behind the truck and gaining fast. As it neared, the car crossed the double yellow line and veered into the oncoming lane. A blast of gunfire punched a hole through the truck’s door the size of a man’s fist. Good thing the guy’s aim was a few inches off, or Gwen would be missing a chunk of leg. The shooter leaned halfway out the window of the sedan, his rifle trained on the truck’s rear tire.

  Gwen cut the wheel hard to the left, barely missing the shooter as the truck slammed into the other vehicle. She pulled to the right for a second before ramming into the side of the sedan again, knocking it onto the shoulder. The car fishtailed as the driver struggled to regain control, but then Gwen smashed into it a third time, sending it sailing over the edge of the mountain and into the quarry below.

  Focused on the sedan, she lost track of the remaining car. A burst of gunfire from behind blew out one of the rear tires. The truck lurched hard to the right, and Gwen fought to stay on the road. Taking aim with the shotgun, Dmitri fired two rounds, peppering the station wagon’s windshield and forcing it to pull back.

  “How many are there?” she shouted over the thump-thump-thump of the blown tire.

  Dmitri looked back, squinted his eyes. “Looks like four, and at least one of them has an assault rifle.”

  “Shit. Any ideas?” The car surged forward and rammed their back bumper, and the truck skidded onto the shoulder for a few seconds before Gwen steered them back to the pavement.

  “Take the truck off road. They’ll have a harder time following us in a station wagon.”

  “Sounds great, but where?”

  With the quarry on the left, there weren’t many places to go. There was a truck bail-out lane coming up on the right, but it didn’t look like it led anywhere. Dense forest dominated the remaining acreage, impenetrable to anything bigger than a motorcycle in the summer or a snowmobile in the winter.

  “There,” he finally said, pointing to a narrow dirt road at the curve a few hundred yards away. “See it?”

  Gwen nodded, her eyes never leaving the road.

  When the road curved left, she cut the wheel to the right and the truck veered off the main drag. The rear axle slid to the left, only stopping when the driver’s side slammed into a maple. Undaunted, Gwen downshifted and punched the gas, and the truck barreled down the muddy dirt road.

  “Where are they?” she asked, her eyes riveted on the road ahead of her.

  “Still behind us, but we’re pulling away.”

  She hit the brakes, spun the wheel, and the truck swerved around the next curve. The path narrowed even farther, the dense vegetation so close to the road it slapped against both sides of the truck. A low-hanging branch smacked the windshield, fracturing the glass along the driver’s side.

  Gwen cursed, her face drawn tight with concentration.

  Dmitri sat back and watched her for a moment, admiring the way she maneuvered the battered vehicle. Right hand on the gearshift, left hand on the wheel, she compensated for each twist and turn like the truck was an extension of her own body. If they weren’t in danger, and if it were anyone but her, he’d find it hotter than Hell.

  Correction: It still was.

  A pothole jolted the thought from his mind and almost bounced him off the seat. The farther they ventured, the worse the road got, the dips and ruts jarring the truck so hard it was a wonder the axles didn’t break. Something was rattling under the hood, and the Check Engine light flashed like a blinker.

  Without warning, she slammed on the brakes and the truck skidded to a halt.

  Straight ahead, the road ended abruptly at the rocky bank of a fast-moving stream. On the other side, a small pathway—it didn’t appear wide enough to count as a road—led into another swath of dense forest.

  “The water doesn’t seem very deep,” she murmured, her fingers tapping against the wheel.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Gwen nodded as she pushed down the clutch and slipped the truck into first. The front end dipped when it entered the water, and the sound of rock scraping against metal vibrated through the cab. Halfway across, water seeped under the door and soaked the carpet. Good thing the truck’s air intake was high enough to prevent the engine from flooding, a feature lacking in the vehicle pursuing them.

  The station wagon sped into view at the same time the truck’s rear axle cleared the water. Without slowing, the car plunged into the stream and stalled out.

  “Idiots,” Dmitri muttered with a shake of his head.

  Gwen peered at the station wagon through the rearview mirror. “Should we give them an incentive not to follow?”

  He turned his head in her direction and saw a savage glint in her eyes. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was actually enjoying this.

  “Why, what do you have in mind?”

  A sly smile creased her mouth. She was enjoying this. As much as it shamed him to admit it, he found that hot as well.

  “How many rounds you got for that Mossberg?” she asked.

  “Couple boxes. Maybe three.” Their gazes locked, and something passed between them that words could never describe. For a second or two, it made him light-headed. He shook his head, and
the sensation disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. “Why? You want me to blast them all full of holes?”

  Gwen shook her head. “I don’t think that’s necessary. But you could make sure their car won’t run if they get it out of the water.”

  “As you wish.” After reloading the shotgun, he opened the door and stepped out of the truck.

  The other reapers were still trapped inside the station wagon, apparently arguing over what to do next. The driver kept trying to start the car while the passenger was twisted around in his seat, his hands waving in the air and his rifle propped against the dashboard. A guy in the back seat was nodding while the woman beside him scowled. All fighting ceased the instant they noticed Dmitri, and their eyes widened with shock.

  Shit. Now that he was close, he recognized the driver. It was that lunatic Edwin Pierce. For the life of him, Dmitri could not understand why Samuel kept the crazy bastard in the field. A conspiracy junkie, he was the kind of guy who hoarded canned goods and gasoline in his heavily fortified underground bunker. He was also the kind of guy who’d hunt them to the ends of the earth.

  With the butt of the Mossberg tucked snug against his shoulder, Dmitri aimed and fired. Pierce ducked behind the dashboard a split second before the slug tore a hole through the windshield on the driver’s side and burrowed into the front seat. The other reapers dove for the floorboards and vanished from view. Dmitri racked another shell into the chamber, aimed, and blew the radiator apart. For the sake of being thorough, he kept pulling the trigger, hammering rounds into the station wagon until the firing pin clicked against the empty chamber.

  Satisfied, he slung the shotgun over his shoulder and got back into the truck.

  “Nice shooting, Tex,” Gwen said with a grin after he closed the door and put on his seat belt.

  “Did you see who was driving?”

  She shook her head. “No, I couldn’t make him out. Who is it?”

  “Your boy Pierce.”

  A frown replaced her grin. “Patrick knows how much I hate that guy.” Of all the reapers she’d ever encountered, Pierce was the only one she considered unworthy of the second chance he’d been given.