“Will you… kiss me again?”
His wolf-like leer was quickly hidden. “Anytime you want!”
She laughed, a fresh, innocent peal of delight that had him dropping his mouth to hers. He couldn’t take her away from Safe Haven yet, but he could slowly steal her virginity right out from under Neil’s nose, and he would. Then he’d kill her.
5
By dusk, the convoy was still more than ten miles from Glendale and Adrian thought it was ironic that they weren't even going to make it to the place the Slavers thought they would be. He waited for the check-in to decide what to do, but when the call came, it didn't ease his mind. The Slavers were only eight miles behind and Adrian hit the button as the violent lightning flashed.
"We need a sturdy, easy to defend shelter, gentlemen."
Kyle responded immediately, "We did a map-check a few minutes ago. We saw a YMCA and a rest stop."
"The rest stop is brick and small. No fires and no sneaking in," Zack stated from the truck behind them.
Adrian hit the button. "The rest stop. Secure and get set up right away. We won't have much time."
"Copy, out."
There was no question, no hesitation and Angela felt a little better about the plan changing so rapidly. “How long will we have?"
"An hour, maybe," he said, following the signs for the rest area through the driving rain. “More like forty-five minutes.”
“To set it all up in this weather?"
Adrian slowed, seeing the building come up on their right. "This weather is what will make it work. They won't be able to see anything until they're trapped." He pulled the Semi over and found his one prayer answered. There were cicada-covered trees everywhere.
The rain had settled down a bit, but the wind was still gusting as Adrian unlocked the back doors using the button Kenn had installed weeks ago for this very moment.
"Ready?" he asked, the men around them already out and moving supplies, disappearing into the landscape.
Angela pulled on her dark hood, backpack over her arm. “You know it.”
They both rushed from the cool truck and into the cold rain, taking shelter under the small awning over the brick building’s double glass doors. Doug and Neil and a few others were already there and they went inside with guns drawn.
The doors were unlocked and the men secured the one large room in seconds and then began carrying things into the Ellsworth County rest stop.
Adrian waved the closest man over for guard duty. “You two stay down and out of the way," He locked eyes with Angela. "When it starts, I'd like you to pass out ammo and anything else we need."
"That's it?" Cynthia asked disappointedly, tape recorder on in her pocket.
Thinking of last night’s violent dream, where not one or even two perfectly made shots had been enough to save Angela, Adrian headed outside. "For now."
The fifteen men in the rear of the rig were out the minute the lock clicked. They took their share of the boxes and disappeared into the landscape. They were careful to show each other the traps as the storm began to pick up again, and the sky started looking like the ten minutes or so before full dark.
Adrian and a few of the men worked outside, hiding their vehicles after making sure their tracks continued out of sight. The others were inside and the sound of drilling echoed out the open doors, rolled past Adrian, across the street and up into the heavily wooded area. It almost drowned out the hordes of cicadas roosting in the trees. The noise didn't last but five minutes and then there were three new holes, all filled in with red handkerchiefs. Even from only a few feet away, it was hard to tell they were there. Two of the three holes looked out into the tall brick walls that made the long entrance to the bathrooms, one on each side of the rest stop. Anyone taking shelter there would be in for a nasty surprise.
Thick wooden boards were nailed over the two front windows, leaving a three inch gap at the bottom to shoot from and vests were nailed loosely over these windows so the men inside would have cover.
Adrian stared at the roof, where two men now waited, hidden behind the decorative chimney and a camouflaged shield of vests. He was satisfied when he couldn’t pick them out.
The Leader went to his semi, pulling himself nimbly up without noticing how soaked he was, but he did think that annoying, high-pitched song of the bugs was louder. He keyed the mic. "Location for Eagle by 6."
Adrian went to 36 and waited, worried when there was no answer. He didn't call again though, hoping they were lying low and too close to the Slavers to call. He climbed down slowly and was about to close the door when the lightning flashed and the radio sparked.
"They’re in Black Wolf now, moving fast."
Adrian scrambled for the mic. "Roger, by 5, 3 and 9."
He flipped to the right channel and keyed the mic. "We're in the Ellsworth Rest Stop. Break off and get ahead. Join Kyle."
"Roger, out."
Relief was in Jeremy’s voice, but there was excitement too and Adrian was glad to hear it. The scouting team wanted to be here for the battle, but they would be careful not to be seen or heard and ruin the plan. He hit the button on his chest, using the new coded short-wave setup that the Slavers wouldn’t be able to pick up until they were less than half a mile away.
“We've got five minutes."
"Copy."
Adrian stepped back under the awning, frowning at the sudden feeling of doom that flew over him. Had he forgotten something? He turned toward Angela, finding her through the glass. She hadn’t taken up a place under the windows, but her eyes were glowing and her gun was in hand. Good.
“Get under cover. They’re three minutes out.”
He saw his secret terror mirrored in her face before she moved to take up a prime spot at one of the windows. Outside, the cicadas fell silent.
6
The building was pitch-black when the faint sounds of engines echoed through the storm.
Adrian knew he didn't have to tell Kyle to get set and he took his place near the door with a few others, rifle in one hand, radio in the other.
"They’re here," Angela warned and the first broken headlights flashed off the trees and across the wet pavement.
"They'll be slow when they pass us, but it’s dark. They won't see anything unless we move." Adrian’s words were comforting and they all held perfectly still as streams of light lit up the parking area and the sidewalk, and then the room. They stared at the front doors as the wet vehicles began to roll by.
Angela let out a cold sigh as that hard shield of battle fell into place. "Now! He just saw your truck. Kill them now!"
Adrian keyed his mic, sure fate was standing still, watching this moment. "It's a go!"
The Eagles waited in the mud and rain as the army of headlights rolled toward them in the windy darkness, peering from behind the trees, picnic tables and grills.
Kyle was cool and calm, ready. It helped that he was a natural, too, and he was raising his arm to throw, even as the walkie-talkie crackled, "It's a go!"
He took aim on the gold Corvette and threw.
Outside the rest stop, for one last instant, there was only the storm and the Slavers. Then hell split open and swallowed them as the Eagles across the street unleashed their fire and brimstone.
Kyle’s aim was perfect, but the wind gusted, sending wet branches flying into his path. The grenade was deflected and it fell to the grass before bouncing onto the pavement. The gold Corvette rolled, unknowing, over it.
Seconds later it exploded under a red truck, fire ripping through the cab as it rose off the ground and fell back hard, metal splintering. The three men inside were killed instantly. The blue Ford behind it crashed into the fiery wreckage a second later.
The Slavers began slamming on their brakes and plowing into each other to avoid the flaming mess and the dull thud of steel hitting steel echoed. Burning metal had men trapped and their screams went unheeded as more grenades flew.
Cars exploded in sheets of burning debris behi
nd the first wreck, cutting off that route of escape. More fire exploded in front of them, still aiming at the gold convertible, and the Slavers panicked. Realizing they’d been led into a trap, they rear-ended each other, swerving and causing pileups. Most of the two lanes were completely blocked less than 30 seconds into the battle.
Armed men were now abandoning their blocked-in cars, heading for the cover of the trees as gunfire began to echo. Cesar was screaming into the mic that it was an ambush, to keep driving, but large groups of Mexicans fled to either side of the road.
More grenades went shooting through the wet air as a huge volley of gunshots began and four more cars with men still inside were destroyed. Some killed, most were trapped with the flames coming their way.
Kyle flashed his light, signaling his men to fall back, and the Eagles retreated behind the ambush site as the first of the fleeing Slavers reached the wired trees.
Men streamed into the cover of nature, and the noise of the cicadas suddenly exploded through the storm as a large group hit the first trap at almost the same time.
Blood flew in thick splatters as men lost hands, had their throats slit and their stomachs sliced open. Bloody rain began soaking into the ground and screams of horror filled the battlefield. These sounds grew when the hungry bugs above them began coming down for a drink.
Not realizing that was where the noises of agony were coming from, more men ran toward death as grenades continued to explode, herding them.
Adrian and Marc had estimated that their trap would kill or critically wound half of the Slavers and they were close. Thirty-five men were killed in the mad rush, another eight would likely bleed to death, and the fiery mess on the road took more than twenty. Roughly 60 men had run into the trees and the remaining killers scattered toward the rest area where Adrian and his men were waiting. The rest were eaten alive.
A dozen Guerillas made it past the guns on the roof and in the windows, fleeing into the brick bathroom stalls, and another ten went behind those tall walls, all looking vainly for help as the Eagles picked them off.
At Adrian’s nod, the men inside the rest stop shoved their guns through the holes and let loose. Again caught off guard, only one Mexican made it out of the stalls alive, dashing to join the six who waited beneath the only trees on that side that were close enough together to provide any real protection. They stared longingly at the cars in the street, many of them still running, the doors open wide. Two of them suddenly darted for these magic carpets and were picked off like ducks at a carnival, triggering a rush of cicadas that swarmed over their exposed flesh like acid.
Cesar was alone. Forced into the parking lot by grenades, his furious eyes swept over Adrian's rig and then the back of the brick building they were taking shelter in. The Americans may have surprised him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get what he’d come for!
Ignoring the screams of his men, Cesar grabbed a recklessly fleeing form in a sombrero. The man fought back and Cesar slid his knife to the Guerilla’s throat.
“I am your Leader. You will do as I tell you!”
Gravari gave a shaky nod, recognizing him.
Cesar shoved him toward Adrian’s semi. “Get it going! Run them down!”
“But the other…”
“Do it now! Run them down!” the Slaver screamed, knife rising. He started to say something else, but stopped in shock at an explosion that rippled into the thunder. What the hell was that?
Gunshots, explosions and screams were still coming from the picnic area, the land mines cutting men in half and then the 18 Eagles stepped forward, guns belching justice. This was the most dangerous part, the line moving in to clear out the survivors, and not all of these brave men were with Kyle when he hit the pavement.
Inside the rest stop, alarm bells went off in Angela's head. "He's coming!" she warned.
Adrian heard his rig roar to life and flung open the bullet-splintered doors of the rest stop.
"Neil, get the long crate!" he shouted, running toward the parking area to see the semi reach the end of the concrete parking lot and begin to turn.
They dragged the crate to the middle of the road, just above the abandoned Corvette, and pried it open, with Adrian giving fast instructions.
"Slide that in there and turn it," he told them, grunting as he struggled to set up the tripod in the wind gusts. “Make a hole!”
Adrian hit the trigger and held on as the Gatling gun roared to life. Trees and mud blew apart as he struggled to aim, sending up swarms of bugs, and Neil rushed to help Adrian hold the powerful gun steady.
The semi headed towards them, grinding gears as it picked up speed. The bullets traced a path of destruction up the road and finally began to plunge into the rig.
The windshield shattered as Adrian tilted the gun up and the driver swerved too late. Blood sprayed across the cracked glass.
Now out of control, the truck continued its run and the Eagles dove out of the way, watching from the muddy, bloody ground as it smashed into the big gun, hit Cesar's Corvette and jack-knifed.
It crashed violently into the piles of burning wreckage and then burst into a huge orange fireball that raced over the scene like a heat wave.
Adrian’s Eagles screamed in triumph… and then in warning.
Standing just outside the rest stop doors, Angela felt someone behind her, realizing at the last minute that she wasn’t picking up anything, but blackness from their thoughts. Fear shoved into her brain and she followed her training, drawing as she turned.
Cesar pulled the trigger with an elated sneer of happiness. “If I cannot have you, bruja, neither will they!”
“Look out!”
The bullet slammed into Angela’s chest, knocking her backward as she fired. She saw it plunge into his stomach as she hit the mud, and realized he would get a second shot.
Bang!
Bang!
Cesar’s eyes widened and the pistol fell from his grip. Around them, the cicadas went silent.
Cynthia lowered her new gun as the evil man sank to his knees, blood streaming from his wounds. She had still been inside, forgotten in the chaos. Her bullet had gotten him from the back, while Adrian hit him from the front.
The reporter didn’t stop the surprised tears as Cesar’s body fell forward and smacked onto the concrete. She was one of them now.
End of Book Four: Adrian’s Eagles
Notes
Hello blurry-eyed reader!
Once again, I didn’t want to cut it where I did. However, there are still 100+ pages of aftermath and there just wasn’t room for them here. In order to make this book available in print, it must be less than 700 pages. As you can see, I got close. (Only because the lines are single spaced. 1.5 gave me 993!)
I hope you liked this edition of Life After War. The next book will take us toward Arkansas, where Adrian’s personal mystery begins to unravel. It will go up for pre-order on my website first. When will it come out? I’ll have to get back to you on that.
Would you like to know what some of these characters look like? How they feel or where they were when the war came? Stop by my blog for Life After War Wednesdays, where you can be entertained with back stories, histories, profiles, journals, and thoughts direct from the characters. Every post is accompanied by a related image so you can see them!
Did you know you can leave me a comment on my website? You can also sign the guestbook or even contact me there. I love hearing from readers. You Ladies and Gentlemen are, to me, what the Eagles are to Adrian -Everything.
And by the way, thanks. About half way through, I was nervous. The story wasn’t flowing right, the ending was in choppy segments, and the bad reviews on book one’s editing were dragging me into the fiery depths of hell. By page 800, I was overwhelmed, wondering how I’d get it all in ‘book’ form. At the point that I pasted the ending into the file, I had 185,000 words and 990 pages. And Writer’s Shake.
Let me tell you a little about the Shakes. It’s not an official illnes
s, but it should be. It’s when you stare at the words without a clue as to how to wrangle them into submission. You’re exhausted, more drained than even after the best orgasm of your life, and yet, there’s this whole other mountain to climb. But it’s a labor of love and you struggle to your feet, swaying, reaching out for support from the one source that’s kept you going so far: your readers.
They respond with a kindness you never really thought would happen, shoving your dreams into vivid clarity. They love your work! They’ve fallen into a passionate affair with your world and they yearn for more. They email you and leave wonderful comments on your website. They tell people about you, send pictures of themselves wearing Safe Haven dog tags, and in the midst of your dreams coming true, you realize you’re shaking.
Why? Because you still haven’t managed to climb that other mountain and all those delightful people are now waiting… and waiting… and waiting. The longer it takes to get to the top, the harder you shake. By the summit, your gut is one big Prevacid and no one in your household will even walk by the door where you’re working for fear of being decapitated. The pizza delivery boy knows your card # by heart and all you can think about is how nice it was to be asleep a lifetime ago.
The Shakes are unpleasant. Non-writers often assume authors spend a few hours a day working and the rest goofing off. It’s only that cushy when your last name is infamous and I am nowhere near. One small downside of my new life, but Oh Man! do the side effects really have an effect. I’ve never worked harder on anything in my life, never been more proud. That driving force, those shakes, pushed me into a place where I can Stand in safety, knowing the final result is one I’m honored to share.
Adrian’s Eagles was finished for me, on All Fool’s Day, 2012. I heard the door close when Cynthia pulled that trigger and I shut it gently, but I didn’t bother with the lock. We’ll be going back to Safe Haven and its magic… only next time, I’ll have the memory of this feeling to lean on if I shake.
Adrian's Eagles: Book Four (Life After War) Page 59
