To Catch a Rat

by S J Grey

  “Yep. On my way.”

  Emma cracked the front door open and looked through the gap. The same three vehicles stood there. She couldn’t carry both shotguns at once if she wanted to use one, which meant leaving one behind. She lay the Nikko on the hall carpet, and then brought the pump-action into firing position again.

  Mark grunted as he pulled the guy along. It seemed heavy work, but she couldn’t help and hold the shotgun too.

  “Okay,” said Mark. He wiped his forehead with one hand. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to leave him here while I run to my car and back it right up to the door. I want you to cover me. If anyone appears, shout a warning, and they should stay back.”

  She peered through the door crack again. “Nobody visible. Are you ready?”

  “Let’s go.” Mark threw the door open and sprinted the short distance to the Falcon, remote-unlocking it as he went.

  Emma stood on the doorstep, Mossberg in position and thumb ready to release the safety. She’d gone from terrified to super-calm, and now she was scared again. She couldn’t afford to be, though. She needed to keep a solid grasp of the shotgun and be alert.

  Mark was reversing at speed towards the house, and then he was out of the car and by her side. “Good work. Stay like this while I load up our guest.”

  She nodded. The trees along the driveway were scary when they could be hiding gunmen. She forced herself to listen to the sounds outside. To listen for another car approaching. She heard birds chirping, a burst of quacking from an indignant duck, and the usual background hum of bees from the nearby hives.

  Mark wasn’t finding it easy to load the guy into the boot of his car. When the gunman realised what was happening, he started to struggle.

  Emma had to help. She laid down the shotgun, and went to assist Mark, by grabbing the guy’s feet.

  No matter how Mark tried to manoeuvre him, the gunman wriggled, making a difficult job almost impossible.

  “For fuck’s sake.” Mark tugged the revolver from his pocket and smacked the guy on the side of his head.

  The man’s body went limp.

  “Let’s get him in. Now,” Mark said.

  They both shoved, and he was in. Mark slammed the lid shut and leaned against the car. “Jesus.” He blew out a breath. “Let’s grab the shotguns and get the fuck out of here.”

  Emma darted back into the house for the Nikko, then set the front door to lock behind her.

  Mark had already grabbed the Mossberg. He held the car door open for her, and she scrambled into the passenger seat, sliding the Nikko onto the back seat, with the pump-action.

  “This seems like a feeble thing to mention right now,” she said as she clunked her safety belt into place, “but I don’t have a firearms licence. If we’re stopped by the police…”

  She left the words hanging, but Mark flashed a smile at her. “Don’t worry about that. I take full responsibility. I love that you’re such a law-abiding citizen.”

  “I couldn’t shoot him,” she said, her voice low. “I don’t think I ever could.”

  “You did the right thing, love. Give me a minute while I check in with my team.” He accelerated down the long, curving driveway, and tapped a button on the dashboard. “Phone Jonathan.”

  She huddled in her seat, mind working overtime. She wouldn’t relax until she set eyes on her parents.

  The number Mark was calling cut to voicemail. “This is Jonathan. Please leave a message.”

  Mark swore under his breath, but then spoke into the Bluetooth microphone. “We’re leaving the Blackthorne residence. The property needs sweeping. I believe it’s been compromised. Also, we’re bringing a plus-one. I need interview facilities in place.”

  He slowed the car as they approached the junction with the road, but carried on talking. “ETA twenty-five minutes. Give me an update ASAP.”

  The road that meandered through this part of Reikorangi was usually quiet. To see two SUVs was rare. Coming from the right—the direction Mark planned to go—one on each side of the narrow road, they headed for Mark’s car. At ramming speed.

  “Mark,” she cried.

  “Fuck,” he snarled at the same time. “It’s a trap. Hold on.”

  Mark slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel. The Falcon tyres slipped on the loose gravel. They were skidding. Sliding into the ditch. The rubber caught the road surface, and he found some traction. Booted the gas.

  Emma found herself pressed back in her seat, clinging for dear life to the panic handle. They roared to the left, taking the empty route.

  “This is a dead-end road.” Emma pushed the words out, her throat tight with fear.

  “I know.” He drove faster, tearing up the road, climbing the hill. “I’m going to double back.”

  Emma looked over her shoulder. Both SUVs were in pursuit.

  “Under attack. Send backup.” Mark snapped out the commands. The phone line must still be open. “I’m going to pull off the road in a minute and take cover. Brace yourself, Em.”

  They were entering one of the many hairpin bends on this stretch. Mark went even faster, the car clinging to the tarmac. They flew around the bend, the tyres shrieking.

  Emma looked behind. Did they lose the SUVs?

  “Fuuuuuuck.” Mark shouted.

  Emma turned to face the front. A small car lay on its side in the middle of the road.

  Mark hauled on the wheel. Slammed on the brakes. The Falcon felt as if it tipped onto two wheels, before righting itself. He was trying the avoid the blockage.

  On one side was a solid cliff. On the other, the road fell away down the hillside. There wasn’t room to pass the overturned car.

  Emma closed her eyes and covered her head with her arms. She didn’t want to die. Not here. Not now. She wanted a lifetime first. A life with Mark.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The engine roared. The car spun. Something hit the back with a crump. Emma felt it like a pair of invisible hands, shoving her forwards. The seatbelt tightened. Mark was fighting with the wheel, stomping on the pedals. He gunned the engine again, and the Falcon fishtailed. They spun around and now looked directly at the two stationery SUVs that filled the road, a blockage as absolute as the overturned car.

  Mark hit the brakes, and they lurched to a halt.

  “Don’t move,” he said. “It’s not over yet.”

  Emma gazed at the two black cars. She felt like a gazelle, being eyed by hungry lions. “What can we do?” It was hopeless.

  “Divide and conquer.”

  “What?”

  “They want us, they have to get out. We have weapons on the back seat.” His gaze bored briefly into Emma. “And we’re not afraid to use them. My dash cam is running, and backup is on the way. We just need to hold them here.”

  Weapons. Yes. She looked into the back of the car and found the shotguns had been jolted onto the floor. Shit.

  She reached out, caught hold of the Nikko, and pulled it onto her lap. She had to stretch further to get the Mossberg, but it only took moments to haul it into the front of the car.

  “Do you have any spare shells?” Mark asked, his gaze unwavering on the SUVs.

  Did she? “Yes.” She dug into her pockets and counted the cartridges. “The Mossberg has six, the Nikko two, and I have four spares.”

  “Okay. The Glock has a full ten rounds in the mag. Between us, we have more than enough firepower to hold them off until my team gets here. Time to call Jonathan back.” He activated the Bluetooth again. “Call Jonathan.”

  There was no movement from the SUVs. They were all watching each other, like some deadly game of chicken.

  This time, Jonathan answered. “Monitor my dash feed,” ordered Mark. “We have a standoff situation on the southeast end of Terrace Road. How soon will backup get here?”

  “Four cars on the way, ETA ten minutes.”

  Ten minutes. Emma wanted to throw up at the idea of waiting that long. Despite Mark’s assurance that they were safe as
long as they stayed in his car, she didn’t feel safe in the slightest.

  She cradled the Mossberg. The solid weight felt comforting in her arms.

  The SUVs started to creep forwards. They were a good twenty metres away, but what would they do next? Would they ram Mark’s car?

  “Mark, if you were them, what would you do next?”

  “You read my mind? They want you alive, otherwise they’d shove us over the edge.” He tapped the steering wheel with his fingertips. “I’d disable this vehicle and try to push it against the wall, then force you out.” He glanced at her. “I’m not gonna let that happen.”

  He cleared his throat. “Jonathan, you still there?”

  “Yep.”

  She’d forgotten the phone line was open. It reassured her that someone else was with them.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” said Mark, his voice clear and decisive. “I’m getting out. Emma is going to slide into the driver’s seat. I’m going to open fire on them, and while they’re trying to stop me, she’s going to drive right between them, fast as she can. She’ll be accelerating and should punch right past them.”

  “Wait. You’re going to get out?” Emma stared at him.

  “I’m going to divert their attention.”

  “And then what?”

  “In the confusion, I run down the hill a little way, and then follow the road. You keep going until backup arrives. They’ll recognise the Falcon. Jonathan, who does Emma look out for?”

  “Me, TJ, Maxine, and Devin. We’re just leaving Waikanae.”

  The SUVs were maybe fifteen metres away now and creeping closer.

  “You can’t do this,” said Emma. “It’s crazy. What if they have guns? You’re not freaking Superman.”

  “Get ready to slide across,” said Mark. “I’ll take the Mossberg and the extra shells.” He held out his left hand. “I’ll fire at the radiators. It should be enough to stop them.”

  “No. I won’t do it. I won’t risk you like this. There has to be something else we can do.”

  He glanced at her. “Shells, please, Em. It’s important that you boot the gas when I tell you. You need to drive out of here at full throttle and have momentum on your side.” He lifted the Mossberg from her and unclipped his seatbelt.

  “Please don’t do this.”

  “Try to aim through the middle, and when you’re about to hit one of them, catch it at an angle. You should power through.”

  It was as though she hadn’t spoken.

  “Mark—”

  “Em, I told you. I’ll keep you safe. Get ready to change seats when I get out. If the airbag inflates, stay inside the car. Use it to hide.” He tugged the handgun from his pocket and placed it in the drink holder. “You take the Glock. You used a pistol before?”

  “No, but—”

  “The safety is built into the trigger. As long as your finger is steady on the trigger, it’ll fire. Got that?”

  “I think so.” She squeezed his hand. “For the record, your plan sucks.” She released him and dropped the shells into his palm. “Please stay safe. I love you.”

  Warmth shone briefly in his eyes. “I love you too.” He swallowed, and snapped back to business. “Keep your head down and your foot on the gas. I’m taking my phone, so the connection to Jonathan will drop. I’ll see you soon.”

  Emma unfastened her seatbelt, her hands clammy. She couldn’t believe she was about to do this. The SUVs continued to advance. Did they expect Mark to surrender?

  He cracked the door open and stepped out, one hand in the air, as Emma hustled from her seat into his. She didn’t have time to adjust the seat position, but if she perched on the edge of the seat, she could reach the pedals. She locked the safety belt into place.

  Mark grabbed the pump-action, and using the open Falcon door as cover, fired at the SUVs.

  Boom. It was deafening without earplugs. He racked the next shell, ejecting the spent cartridge, and fired again. Boom. He was fast. He must have used one before.

  Emma gripped the steering wheel with one hand, held the gear shift with the other, and revved the engine.

  One of the SUVs had taken a direct hit to the radiator. Water and steam poured out, but it kept coming.

  Mark fired again. And again. Four shots gone. Two left before he needed to reload.

  One SUV made a screeching noise and ground to a halt. A gap opened between the two cars. Wide enough to go through?

  “Drive, Em,” Mark shouted as he fired again.

  Both cars had shattered windscreens now. People were scrambling out of them and taking cover behind doors, like Mark had. They had guns too. She saw flashes of dull metal.

  “Go,” Mark yelled and ran towards the edge of the road, the door swinging back into place.

  Please don’t shoot him, she chanted inside her head. She dropped the gear shift into Drive and hit the accelerator. Foot down hard, the Falcon lurched forwards.

  There were more bangs outside. Emma hunched down. She could barely see over the wheel. She gained speed, but then the car seemed to hiccup. It felt unbalanced. The steering wheel wanted to pull to the right. Did they shoot the tyres out? She was still moving.

  Another shot sounded close to her head, and she squealed, her voice loud over the ringing in her ears.

  She had to keep going. No matter what.

  The windscreen was damaged. A spider web of cracks swarmed across the passenger side, but Emma could see enough.

  She was close to the SUVs. Would she hit them?

  People scattered out of her way. One SUV was at an angle, blocking half the road. She pointed the Falcon at the space next to it.

  More bangs sounded outside. Please don’t let them be firing at Mark.

  There was one of the SUVs. In her path. Emma kept her foot hard down.

  She clipped the edge of the front wing of the other vehicle, the vibration shuddering through her. She couldn’t avoid it.

  The gap opened wider. She had to get through. She couldn’t press any harder on the accelerator, but the Falcon was slowing.

  Something hammered the passenger side of her car. There was a dull pop and the airbags inflated.

  The impact was immense. Every bone in her body rattled.

  Emma jolted from side to side. The Glock tumbled to the floor. Metal screeched. Someone shouted.

  The seatbelt cut into her shoulder. Christ. That hurt. Her ears whistled, and her lungs burned. Was she still moving? Maybe not.

  The whole thing had taken seconds. It felt like hours.

  Stay in the car, Mark said. Hide under the airbags. She needed the pistol. She had to keep the gunmen back until Mark’s team arrived.

  Where the fuck was it? Near her feet? She kicked around but couldn’t feel it. The airbags filled the dashboard like a giant pair of hissing balloons. White powder floated in the air.

  Mark’s idea was shitty. She hated this. Hated not knowing where he was or if he was okay. Hated being on her own.

  The Glock could be anywhere. She managed to release the seatbelt and leaned as far as she could, groping with hand at full stretch.

  She touched wood. The Nikko. It was loaded, but she gave all her spare shells to Mark.

  Emma had two shots. She had to make them count.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Emma wriggled, to get into a better position. She managed to hoist the Nikko against her shoulder. Her hands shook so hard, she couldn’t hold it properly.

  One of the SUVs had rammed the Falcon in the side. The passenger door was bent inwards. She was going nowhere.

  Backup was on the way. She had to hold these guys off for a few minutes.

  Her ears hurt. They were ringing more loudly than if she stood in the front row of the mosh pit at a Shihad concert. Over the constant, tinny whistling, she heard a new noise. Thumping. At her side.

  She turned her head. A man tugged at the driver’s door. He wanted her to get out. Either he didn’t know she was armed, or he thought she wouldn’t use
the weapon.

  Something glinted on the floor near her foot. The Glock. She kicked at it, shifted it closer, and then leaned down and grabbed it. That went in her pocket. Better she had it than them.

  The door was wrenched open. A stranger filled the gap, dressed like the guy who forced his way into her parents’ house. The guy currently in the boot.

  He was talking to her. She knew that, because his mouth was moving, but she couldn’t hear a word.

  She raised the barrel of the Nikko. Thumbed the safety off. “Stay back,” she shouted. It came out as a croak. “I’m armed.”

  The guy smirked at her. He. Smirked. He thought she was going to give up. Like the gunman in Mum’s kitchen, he didn’t know she was proficient with the shotgun. He saw a young woman and thought she was bluffing.

  Confidence surged. Emma slotted the Nikko against her shoulder blade and aimed it at the guy’s crotch. Point-blank. If she fired it, he’d be singing soprano for the rest of his life, if he didn’t bleed out first.

  “Do you want to risk it?” she shouted. It still sounded weird, like her head was underwater. “Move back. Put your hands up.”

  The fucker laughed. He didn’t believe her.

  Could she pull the trigger? She refused to shoot animals. Hated the sight of blood.

  She thought of Joss. Lying face down in the river. Would Emma ever find out what happened?

  “Did you kill Joss? Was it you?” She hurled the words at him.

  His expression didn’t change. In another world, she might have found him good looking. He shared the high cheekbones of scary-gunman-dude, but with sparkling eyes and laughter lines around his face.

  “I didn’t kill Jocelyn.” His voice sounded muffled to her ears. He gestured around him. “We didn’t. That was down to your boyfriend.”

  She gripped the Nikko tighter. Nope. Not falling for that one. “I don’t believe you.”

  He leaned closer, a sympathetic smile on his face. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’m telling you the truth.” He reached forward as though to pluck the Nikko out of her grasp.