Outside, four men were in front of the house, and another four were in the back. The ones in front were still firing a barrage of bullets into the building while the men in the backyard were laying low on the ground, probably covering a possible rear escape. Had Joe and Helen gone out the back door, they would have been mowed down on site.
“There’s four in front and four in the back,” he apprised her.
“So, eight of ‘em, huh? Well, the first two will be easy. The last six won’t be when they see what’s happening.”
He nodded, agreeing with her assessment.
She slid the handgun back into a holster and took the bow off of her shoulder then removed an arrow from the quiver before placing the container on the ground. Fitting the arrow in place, she lifted it up and stepped over to the door.
“Grab one of those arrows for me. As soon as I let this one go, have the second one ready.” He did as told and grabbed an arrow out of the quiver, holding it next to her as he prepared to open the door again. “Ready?”
“Yep,” he smiled up at her from a crouching position.
She gave a nod and Joe slowly pushed the door open. The men were reloading on the lawn, putting fresh magazines into their weapons. One of them had started ascending the stairs with another guy in tow. The men were wearing black sweaters and matching winter caps. Their faces had been painted in dark camouflage. The last two guys in the yard spread out, holding the perimeter. Those would be her first targets.
Helen drew the bowstring back and put the farthest man in her sights. He had stopped in a position on the other side of the walkway leading up to the steps. She held the string steady for a moment and let out a long breath. Her fingers released the string, sending the arrow across the span in less than a second. Before the tip of the projectile went through the man’s neck, she had already taken the next arrow from Joe and was reloading. The other man saw his companion drop to the ground out of the corner of his eye, and turned toward the body. He must have noticed the arrow sticking through the man’s neck because he crouched down and began scanning the woods beyond the twitching figure.
His mistake was giving Helen a larger target. She wasted no time loosing the second arrow, sending the blade deep into the man’s back. He groaned loudly for a second before collapsing to his knees and falling on his face.
Joe eased the door of the shed closed so they wouldn’t be seen. “Did I tell you, you were good?” he whispered.
“About five times this week, honey,” she said equally as quiet. “Now check the window over there and see what’s going on. If those men start snooping around, we might be better of going back into the house.”
“The old backtracking move. I like it,” his teeth shone brightly in the darkness. “But I want you to stay here. I can go back in, take a few shots at them, and then you can pick them off from out here.”
She contemplated what Joe had suggested, and finally agreed. “Okay, but be careful. Don’t go back in through the trap door if you hear anyone inside.” He kept a wisecrack comment about her obvious warning to himself. He quickly shuffled back over to the storm doors and disappeared inside.
Joe made his way back through the escape bunker, past the curious dog, and back up the chute to where the ladder led into the living room. He put his ear up against the bottom of the trap door and listened carefully, making sure there was no movement above. There was nothing. The men Helen had killed had probably distracted the ones who were about to enter the cabin. That meant they would be looking for her, which also meant he needed to act fast.
He prodded the hatch up and slipped out, whipping his hand gun around in a quick motion to make sure the room was clear. Everything was in tatters. Every window was obliterated. Lamps, their leather chairs and sofa, the computer monitor, it was all riddled with bullets. Even the logs of the cabin were in splinters. Joe didn’t have time to worry about material possessions, though.
He climbed out of the cavity and crouched low, making his way over to one of the shattered windows. The men outside weren’t saying anything, obviously aware that they should use silent communication. Joe stood slowly, careful to keep pressed against the interior wall. He took a peek around the edge and saw one of the men checking the body with the arrow through the neck. Another guy from the back of the house had come around and was checking the other corpse. Joe quietly slid the handgun back into its holster and pulled the assault rifle around from his back. He put the stock against his shoulder and winced for a second. It was where he’d been shot nearly a month ago. While most of the damage done had healed, the skin and tissue were still tender.
He raised the weapon put the man standing closest to the porch sights, aiming at the side of the man’s torso. Joe took in a deep breath of air then let it out, much like his wife had done with the bow. He squeezed the trigger, cutting down the man almost instantly. The blast from the gun’s barrel was the loudest thing he’d ever heard, causing his ears to ring painfully, but he remained focused on the attackers. Before the intruder closest to him could react to the sound, Joe had already fired the next round, sending the man sprawling over top of the corpse with the arrow in its back.
On the other side of the lawn, the last man remaining in sight dove toward the cabin in a desperate effort to take cover. Joe turned quickly in the henchman’s direction, but his shot was blocked by the wooden railing on the steps. It must not have obstructed Helen’s view, because a second later, he saw a blur go through his field of vision accompanied by a quiet whoosh. The man on the receiving end of the arrow shot yelped for a second then fell onto the grass just short of the walkway.
Joe allowed himself a devilish smile for a moment, despite his ringing ears. His wife was a woman full of surprises. Just as he was starting to feel better about things, he was reminded there were still three men left outside their home. Bullets started ripping through the house again. Joe hit the floor and tried to assess where the assault was coming from. It only took a second for him to realize someone was firing from the rear of the house.
He belly crawled through the broken glass and splintered wood to the closest end of the cabin, and into the laundry room. Joe sat up for a few seconds, allowing his back to lean against the clothes dryer. Deciding he needed more mobility, Joe set the rifle against the wall and withdrew his pistol again. A couple of seconds later, the hail of metal stopped, leaving the living room slightly more destroyed than previously.
Joe crept over to the nearest window and risked a peek outside. What he saw caused him a great deal of concern.
No one was there.
Back in the shed, Helen had heard Joe firing the assault rifle, picking off two men then dropping the fifth to the ground herself, the arrow catching him in the upper part of the chest. She’d kept the door to the tool shed cracked so she could see if anyone else came around to the front, but no one did.
A few moments had passed when she heard the sound of more gunfire coming from the back of the house. Bullets ripped through the remainder of the front windows spraying out into the small field in front of the house. Whoever was back there knew someone was inside the cabin.
Helen opened the door a little wider, shouldered the bow and quiver, and slipped out into the cold air, making her way back around behind the shed. Her eyes darted back and forth in the darkness, making sure there was no other danger lurking in the shadows. She retreated back into the darkness of the forest, taking cover behind a pine tree before moving further toward the rear of the house. One thing her few friends didn’t know about her was that Helen’s father had taught her everything he knew about hunting when she was a child. She knew to be careful as she moved through the woods, making sure she didn’t step on any twigs or too many dry leaves. Exposed roots and soft dirt was the best thing to walk on. But in the middle of December, leaves and sticks were everywhere. Even as she snuck through the shadows, she kept the bow ready, still electing to go with stealth over the convenience of a handgun. As long as there were more of them than
her and Joe, she needed to be as silent as possible.
The men she was hunting must not have had the same training because she heard a short snapping sound about thirty feet away inside the trees. Helen crouched down, peering through the trunks. To her right, she had a clear view of the back yard. Even with the cloudy sky, the full moon provided a little backlight. No one was on the lawn, meaning whoever had just been shooting had retreated into the woods.
She stayed low, keeping the bow horizontal with an arrow notched. She heard the sound of some leaves rustling from the same direction as before. The noise caused her to draw back the bowstring instinctively. Sure enough, one of the assailants was squatting behind a thick oak tree about thirty feet away. The man’s face was painted black. He was gripping a small sub-machine gun, but she couldn’t tell the make, not that it mattered. She drew the string back farther and took aim, putting the center of the man’s chest in her sights.
The arrow flew true, through the tree trunks and undergrowth, striking the man just below the throat. He let out a groan and gripped the shaft as he fell over sideways. The noise drew the attention of the other two men hiding in the forest, and they immediately opened fire, spraying a barrage of rounds around the vicinity. Helen had ducked behind a pine tree’s narrow trunk as soon as she’d loosed the last arrow, only risking a peak around the bark to ensure the man had gone down. She pressed her body tightly against the tree as the metal rounds thudded into the wood around her. A few struck one she was leaning into, but the wood was too thick for almost any bullet to penetrate.
After a few seconds, the attackers must have run out of ammunition again because there was a pause in the assault. Helen heard the familiar sound of one of the Springfield’s firing from near the house. She risked a glance over and saw the flash from the end of the barrel as Joe popped off six shots.
Inside the cabin, Joe kept under cover until the men outside had stopped firing into the cabin. He thought he had heard the sound of someone grunting, followed by another stream of gunfire. Only this time, the bullets weren’t coming his way. It could mean only one thing: the men were firing at his wife.
Angrily, Joe raised up from his hiding spot and, aided by the low flashes of gunpowder from the enemy guns, spotted both of the remaining men as the launched a volley of hot metal into the woods near the shed.
He quickly lifted up his weapon and popped off three shots into the closest man to what he assumed was Helen’s position. The second attacker was trying to reload his weapon, a mistake given the fact that he was in a wide open space between trees. Joe fired three successive shots, landing two in the man’s chest and one in the abdomen. The target staggered backwards for a moment before falling lifelessly to the ground.
“All clear, Helen,” he shouted out the window. “That’s all of them.”
Helen heard Joe’s voice, and was about to come out of her hiding place when she saw something troubling coming down the driveway. She couldn’t tell the make or model, but three SUVs were rolling toward the cabin. And they looked like they were in a hurry.
“Joe, we may have more company,” she yelled back, staying hidden in the shadows.
“Emily said she was sending support. Maybe that’s them.”
Helen shook her head, still leaning against the tree. “I don’t think they could get here that fast. They’re still fifteen minutes out, at best. And that’s if they are coming in through the air. We could be looking at longer, Joe.” There was an air of resignation in her voice. “Joe?”
“Yeah?”
“If we don’t get out of this alive, you know I love you, right?”
There was a pause as the SUVs drew closer, the sound of tires on gravel starting to fill the air.
“Yeah, honey. I know. And I love you too. But don’t say any of that goodbye, crap. We’ll be fine.”
She smiled in the darkness. Helen couldn’t say what she wanted to. She knew she was okay at the moment. But she worried about her husband. She’d been training her whole life, since she was a little girl, exactly for something like this. If she wanted, Helen could run deeper into the woods and stay hidden until the trouble passed or until Emily’s team arrived. But she couldn’t leave Joe. She would stick it out with him no matter what.
“You might want to get the AR back out Joe, pick a few of them off as they get out. That should even the numbers.”
“Roger that,” he answered.
Helen moved stealthily through the darkness of the trees, getting into a position where she could be most effective with a frontal assault. The three SUVs were nearly at the end of the driveway. She hoped Joe was in position, but she knew he would be. Joe was the most dependable man she’d ever met. She could count on him for anything. And if he said he was doing something, he always kept his word. That was one of the reasons she loved him so much. Though, she regretted not telling him everything about her past. Maybe someday she could disclose everything, about what she had done before they were married.
The SUVs came to a stop in front of the house and the doors opened quickly. She notched another arrow and drew back the string on her bow, raising it slowly to line up the driver of the nearest vehicle. Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her. She started to turn around but a gloved hand wrapped around her mouth as a gun barrel was pressed to her head.
“Drop the bow, now,” the gruff voice ordered. “And tell whoever is in the house to drop their weapon.” She obeyed halfway, dropping the bow onto the ground. But she didn’t say anything.
The barrel pressed deeper into the side of her head, causing her to wince slightly. She cursed herself under her breath for being so careless. They’d killed eight men. Which meant there must have been nine.
“Don’t feel like talking? Fine,” the man gripped her face tightly, almost to the point where it felt like he might break her jaw. He forced her out from her hiding place in the woods as he called out to Joe. “Whoever is in the house needs to drop their weapons and come out with their hands up, or I will splatter this woman’s brains all over the lawn. And bring the sample you stole, too.”
Chapter 46
Ararat, Armenia
The sun had risen early in western Armenia. Sunlight poured through the cracks of the building, giving a little more illumination to the otherwise dark sanctuary.
Sean hadn’t slept much. He’d grown accustomed to trying to sleep in uncomfortable places. It was part of what he did, both before working for IAA and at present. But his mind had raced with too many thoughts. In between insomniac productions, he dozed off a few times, maybe aggregating a total of two hours of sleep for the whole night.
Jabez and his men were already taking equipment out to the vehicles, allowing cold bursts of air to rush through the door each time it opened.
Dr. Firth was still sleeping when Sean made his way over to the older man and nudged him from his slumber. “Time to go, Doc.”
Firth had woken slowly, seeming peaceful at first. Once fully awake, he quickly returned to his grumpy self. “What kind of food do we...” he started to ask but Jabez tossed him a plastic bag with something that looked like dried meat. “What is this?”
“Goat jerky,” Sean answered for their new Arab friend. “I suggest you eat some. We have a long day ahead of us.”
The professor looked down at the plastic bag with an air of disgust. He apprehensively reached into the sack and pulled out a wide piece of the dark red meat then sniffed it to make sure it hadn’t gone bad. Sean was relieved when the man put the corner of the cut in his mouth and tore off a chunk, chewing it slowly, still unsure if he would like it.
An impressed expression lit up Firth’s face. “You know, it isn’t half bad,” he commented before putting the rest of the meat in his mouth.
Adriana was busily checking one of her two handguns, making sure everything was clean and working properly. She slid a full magazine into the black grip and clicked it into place.
“You think we may need that?” Sean asked. He was also armed, but wan
ted to know what she thought.
“You never know. Do you?”
He shook his head. “Can’t be too careful.”
“In some things...you can.” She left him with that thought and a sly smirk as she grabbed her bag and headed out into the cold air.
Outside, the snow had already been melting. A warm front had followed the storm, so any accumulation didn’t last long. Sean imagined up in the mountains that would not be the case. He knew their vehicles could handle most types of weather, but slippery roads on high mountain passes didn’t sound like something he wanted to test out any time soon. That was exactly what they were about to do.
“We should be alright, even with the snow in the mountains,” Jabez read his thoughts. “The roads are not paved, so the dirt and rocks will help us. And the shoulders of the road angle up, so it will be difficult to slide over the edge.”
Somehow, the man’s confidence didn’t resonate in Sean’s mind. The whole thing seemed like a sketchy proposition, but they didn’t have any choice. Time was running out.
He turned his phone on, remembering it had been off over the course of the night. Most of the battery had been used and he didn’t want it to die before getting a chance to recharge it in the SUV. After a few seconds, the home screen came on and the device began searching for a satellite signal. As soon as the connection was made, his phone began to ding. He had six voicemails and eleven text messages.
“That’s a tad above average,” he commented silently.
“What is it?” Jabez stopped as he was carrying his backpack out the door.
“I have several messages from Dr. Solomon at the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta. It looks like Mac and his wife were able to get a sample of whatever it is to her. She says it’s bad.” He scrolled further through the long text messages from his friend Joe. From the time they’d been introduced, Sean had always called Joe, Mac.
“How bad?” Adriana had overheard Sean’s comments and joined the conversation.
Sean Wyatt Compilation Box Set Page 86
