by R Weir
Valerie’s eyes lit up. “I’d be happy to shoot them both. Quick and clean.”
Brushstroke waved her over to watch what was on the monitor. She saw the agony of Sellers, the tears in his eyes, his body searing from the electrical current running through him. Brushstroke pressed a button on an intercom, telling Galvanic to stop his task.
“Has he said anything?”
“Nothing concrete,” replied the gravelly voice Galvanic. “Mostly gibberish now. His daughter’s name, him whispering to spare her. A couple times he begged for me to kill him. I have a feeling he won’t last much longer.”
“Stop for now and let him stew. I’m going to have two more brought to you. They can witness what you’ve done to Sellers as an example. Then I want the daughter to suffer, while Hunter watches. But make it quick, as we may need to move onto our secondary location.”
Brushstroke summoned Norvin. “Have two men bring Olivia and Hunter to the chamber. But don’t inform them that is where they’re headed. Say they’re coming for dinner with me and her father. No need for them to believe they’re about to be tortured.”
Norvin nodded. “Anything else sir?”
“Make sure my vehicle is ready for a quick escape as a precaution.”
“Yes sir.”
Valerie watched Norvin leave, as she stood waiting for orders, her boss still painting.
“You’ve failed me—Valerie,” he spoke with an eerie calm. “It is your first time, which should lead you to a punishment.” He sat down the brush looking over his work, a smile on his face. “Pack up your essentials and hit the road immediately. You can redeem yourself by hunting down Athena and killing her. Then when you’re finished find the female US Marshal and kill her as well. Bonus points if you can get from her Adin’s new location. Complete each task using the resources you have however you see fit.” He stood up, a slow stroll over and hugged her. “If you’re successful all is forgiven. And if not…you know what fate awaits you.” He waved at the monitor while kissing her on the forehead, releasing his grip, returning to his painting seat.
Valerie didn’t fear much and knew she could kill the man right here and now, ending it all. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. For what reason, she wasn’t certain. He had a fatherly grip on her, she couldn’t shake. She nodded her head and went to her room, packing what she needed in a backpack. Once outside she found her crotch rocket, ready for the hunt, excited to be given another chance for success as she roared down the road.
***
Olivia quickly powered down and stashed the iPhone under her mattress, as they heard the men outside. As usual they warned the two to step away from the door, getting confirmation before opening. They walked in and found Hunter lying on the bed, moaning in pain, Olivia close by, on her feet.
“Get up,” yelled one of the men, tall and muscular with lots of tattoos, several with racial symbols.
“He can’t,” replied Olivia, while pointing at Hunter. “He’s really sick. Doubling over in pain. Been throwing up a lot.” She gave a solid performance, selling his illness. “Haven’t you heard the water and toilet flushing in the bathroom.”
“Step away from him,” ordered the tattoo man. “Stand next to my man here and don’t do anything stupid.”
Olivia did as she was told, standing next to the second man. He was about an inch taller, with bright red hair. He grabbed her arm, a stupid smile on his face, calling her sweetie. It sent a shiver down her spine. She did her best to calm herself, carefully breathing in and out, like Hunter had told her to do.
The tattooed man walked over to Hunter on the bed, his face was buried in the pillow. He tapped him on the feet with his fifteen-inch Maglite. Hunter stayed in bed, continuing to moan, his body twitching, doing his own selling. The man moved closer—angry as he reached down to grab him by the arm.
“I said to get up you black bastard!”
Hunter sprung up from the bed, pulling his right arm from under the pillow, jabbing upward with the nine-inch metal flush arm removed from the toilet. The edge was sharp enough, with all his force behind it, to pierce skin. He hit the neck area of the tattooed man at the carotid artery, driving it deep, blood began spurting out, his scream mumbled as the red liquid filled his larynx. Hunter followed by slamming the man in the back of the head with a pipe he’d removed from the drain of the kitchen sink which had been hidden under the bed. The tattooed man crashed down to the bed, soaking it with his blood. His body shook for a short time before stopping, the blood loss too much to overcome.
When Hunter attacked, Olivia did as well, the red headed man had been distracted. From her sleeve she took the bed frame support Hunter had removed, the edge sharp, and jabbed it backward to the inside of the red headed man’s thigh. The aim was for the femoral artery, which she may have hit. The man was screaming in pain, blood was running down as he reached for the protruding metal. Removing it only caused more blood to flow. He let go of her, she spun around trying to kick upward at him, but he staggered back into the kitchen counter. Reaching for his gun, he stopped short, Hunter warning him to halt, the gun of the tattooed man in his hand ready to shoot.
Hunter jumped across the bed, grabbing the red headed man’s gun and six-inch knife. He pushed him to the floor, the blade of the knife to his throat. The red headed man quieted down; the sharp blade ready to cut him.
“Watch the door Olivia,” ordered Hunter. “If anyone comes in, hit them with the pipe.”
Olivia nodded, grabbing the pipe on the bed, doing her best not to look at the crimson mess of a dead man. She stood by the door, listening, ready to strike while continuing to breathe.
“You’ll end up like your partner if you don’t keep quiet and answer my questions,” declared Hunter, keeping the pressure applied. “A cut to the jugular and you’re dead in seconds. Understand?”
The red headed man carefully nodded, not wanting the blade to cut him with the movement.
“Who else is in this building?”
“One…other.” He spoke with caution.
“Where?”
“Outside.”
“How many in the entire compound?”
The red headed man was starting to lose consciousness, the blood loss affecting him. Hunter slapped him on the cheek a couple of times.
“How many in the compound?”
The man’s eyes opened slightly. “Close to twenty.”
His head slumped down from the loss of blood. Hunter made sure he didn’t come back to life by coldly cutting his throat.
“We’ve got to move,” stated Hunter firmly in a low tone, while wiping the blood off himself and the knife. “Grab the iPhone.”
Hunter grabbed the man’s hip holster and flashlight, then ripped the wiring from the camera. He handed the knife to Olivia, motioning for her to follow him before heading for the hallway, ready for whatever awaited them.
Chapter 66
Slowly moving down the hall, hugging the wall with Olivia inches behind, Hunter had his gun out ready to shoot if necessary. Though he did prefer to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to draw more men to their location. He wasn’t equipped for an all-out firefight. If what he was told was accurate, then only one other man was watching this building and he was outside. They got to the front door, Hunter peeking, seeing the man out there, having a smoke, his back to them.
“Let’s wait here,” whispered Hunter. “Turn on the iPhone. Make sure it’s on silent and see if there are any new messages.”
Doing as she was told; Olivia checked the screen. After a minute there was nothing new.
“Tell them we are out of the room, trying to get in a better position,” he said. “And include we believe there are at least twenty men we could be up against.”
Typing the message with amazing speed, she hit send. It wasn’t long before she got a response.
“They’re wondering if there’s some way you could send up a signal, so they know where the farmhouse is. They’re struggling to find it. L
ots of area to cover.”
Hunter thought for a minute. A flare gun would be ideal, though who knew if there’s one around. Shooting off a rocket would be nice, but again… The building heat had to be powered by a type of gas. Either propane or heating oil, as there likely wouldn’t be underground gas lines this far in the country. It was possible to create a big bang, if he had a way to ignite it. Looking in the living area where the men sat to watch them, he saw a couple of bottles of rum sitting on the table. This gave him an idea.
“Tell them I’m going to try and create a fire or an explosion and to keep their eyes and ears open.”
Olivia’s eyes lit up.
“Don’t worry. We won’t be close enough to get hurt.” Or at least Hunter hoped this to be true.
She probably wasn’t’ convinced, but she sent the message, getting a thumbs up icon as a response.
“Give me the knife,” Hunter insisted. “Here is the flashlight. Hold it by the front end. If someone comes at you, swing it like a club as hard as you can, striking them with the back end. It will do some damage.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Olivia, concerned she would be left alone.
Hunter smiled. “I’m going to ask this guy for a light.”
Carefully opening the door, Hunter stepped out, hoping the crappy shoes they gave him didn’t squeak. The man was singing softly to himself, enjoying his cigarette, the smoke billowing into the air which he observed floating away.
“Can I get a light?” asked Hunter faintly, now standing behind the man.
The man started to turn, feeling the knife dig into his back, drawing a small amount of blood. Hunter was ready to drive it all the way in if necessary.
“No noise or you’re dead,” Hunter declared, keeping the pressure on the handle. “Nod if you understand.”
The man carefully moved his head.
“Take steps backward—slowly. Do anything rash and the knife goes into your kidney.” The man hesitated and Hunter pushed a little harder on the knife. “Start now. I’m getting impatient.” The man took a step back, followed by another. “Good. Keep going. I’m in no rush. We’re going inside.”
It took several minutes, but they made if through the door. Once inside Hunter turned the man around and pushed him to the floor. Pulling out his gun, while he alerted Olivia to keep an eye on the door.
“It’s pretty simple,” warned Hunter, aiming for the man’s midsection. “Slide your weapons across the floor. Once you’re done, answer my questions without making a lot of noise.”
The man nodded again before sitting up. He was showing little fear in his eyes, the hint of a grin on his day-old beard mug. He unclipped his automatic, Hunter recognizing it as a Beretta M12, sliding it across the floor, along with his Colt .45 and knife. It would appear they were armed for all-out battle. Hunter wondered if there’s a tank in the barn.
“You’ll never escape,” commented the man with confidence. “Not while dragging the little lady around with you. She’ll slow you down and make you vulnerable protecting her.”
Hunter knew escape wasn’t on his mind. He was trying to buy time until the cavalry arrived. But he had no intention of telling him that.
“Men came for us,” wondered Hunter, ignoring the man’s snark. “Where were they planning to take us?”
The man’s grin grew wider. “To the chamber where Galvanic and a few of the men were going to do nasty things to her.” He pointed at Olivia with his middle finger.
Olivia saw the gesture and quivered, clear what they had in mind.
Hunter scowled, the two names Brushstroke and Galvanic, rolling around his brain. He was wondering what the hell comic book fantasy world he had fallen into.
“There are two less of your bad men to do her any harm. One of which she stabbed in the groin and he bled out.” Hunter met the man with a determined, rage filled glare, pulling back the hammer on the gun. “Where is the chamber?”
The man saw the venom in Hunter’s eyes, carefully raising his arm to point. “Out the door and to the left about a hundred yards.”
“Is it guarded?”
The man hesitated and Hunter moved his finger to the trigger. “My hand is getting tired and this gun could have a hair trigger where it might go off accidently.”
Glaring down the barrel, the man caved. “Yes. Normally one outside.”
“Thank you. Now throw me your lighter.”
The man gazed at Hunter unclear why.
“Now! And take your time pulling it out or else.”
The man reached into his front pocket, cautiously removing it before tossing it to Hunter.
“Close your eyes Olivia.”
Hunter pocketed the lighter, walked over and grabbed a pillow from the sofa, shooting the man through the fabric in the chest. The muzzle sound muffled by the fluffy material. A poor man’s silencer.
“He is dead,” he remarked matter of factly, his cold demeaner at killing on full display. “How are we looking outside?”
“I’ve not seen anyone,” Olivia replied, trying to avoid looking at the dead man. “It’s dark out there, other than the light on outside the door and one on a pole between the buildings, which isn’t bright.”
Hunter went to check on the bottles of rum. One was nearly empty, the other nearly full. He combined the two, giving him a lot of flammable liquid to work him. Walking over to Olivia he handed her back the knife, gazing outside, trying to gauge what to do next. He found the light switch on the wall, which turned off the bulb outside, darkening up the front door. He stuck his head out, hoping to see a gas tank. It probably was on the back or side, away from the building, out of his line of sight.
“We’re going out there,” uttered Hunter. “Stay close and keep your eyes open. If you see someone, speak up.”
“What are we doing?”
“Hopefully illuminating our way to freedom. Send them a quick text saying to keep an eye out for the signal. The fireworks are coming soon.”
Hugging up against the building, using the darkness wherever they could, the two moved finding a large propane tank on the backside about fifty feet from the structure. Hunter found the main valve on top, the metal piping running down the side and into the ground. After turning the valve to the off position, he poured the liquid rum all over the top and down the side to the ground, soaking the area as much as he could.
“Move back,” he ordered, while pointing where she should go.
With a flick of the fire wheel striker, the lighter lit up and he tossed it on the ground. The seventy percent alcohol-based drink immediately starting a fire before spreading up the pipe and tank, creating a huge flame.
Hunter ran, grabbing Olivia by the arm, heading towards the building known as the chamber. He saw a guard standing there. Seeing the flame the guard yelled out for them to stop, ready to raise his automatic weapon.
“Please help us,” answered Hunter. “There are people trying to kill us.”
The guard hesitated, confused by the words. This gave Hunter the opening he needed, firing his gun with precision three times, hitting the man and dropping him to the ground. They ran, bypassing the body, to the door of the building referred to as the Chamber, knowing soon there would be other men running to the gunfire. Opening it, Hunter glanced to look inside, not seeing anyone and pushed Olivia through the door. He then turned, firing three more times at the tank, the explosion knocking him backward through the opening. A huge fireball filled the nighttime sky, his signal having been sent.
Chapter 67
Finding a charter plane to get Athena and Latoya to Canada wasn’t easy. And when they did, the cost was quite high, pushing Athena’s credit card limit as she suspected. Once they paid and were in the air, after more than an hour delay lifting off from Salt Lake City, they arrived two hours later in Moose Jaw.
“When we land customs is going to want you to declare your weapons,” explained the pilot upon arrival.
“I’ll flash my US Marshal’s badge,�
�� replied Latoya. “Hopefully that will ease us through, especially when I explain I’m tracking a US top ten wanted subject and time is of the essence.”
The pilot shook his head. “It might help but won’t change their mind on letting you pass without careful clearance. I’d expect thirty to forty-five minutes to get through. They’re extremely strict on guns here, unlike in the US.”
Latoya wasn’t thrilled to hear this. “I should take your weapon and let you travel on, while I deal with the bureaucratic red tape. At least you can get a taxi and head out without me. I can catch up later.”
Athena agreed, knowing her help might be needed, and her team had extra weapons to give her. From the last text she got from Shen, they were still looking for the farmhouse. Nothing else had been sent since. She desired to be there for her team members and get Olivia back safely to her parents.
Once on the ground she flew through customs, a quick stamp of her passport, since she was carrying no bags, stepping out to find transportation. Having been provided a general location from Cameryn and Shen previously, Athena was able to find a local taxi, the driver happy to help her.
“I need to go here,” she said, pointing at a location on her phone.
“Out in farm and ranch country,” replied the driver. “Do you have an address?”
Athena shook her head. “No. I’m meeting friends out there.”
The driver’s face crunched in surprise. “Are you sure? I’d hate to leave you out there for too long. Gets downright cold at night.” He noticed the jacket she wore was on the light side.
“I will be fine,” replied Athena, happy her clothing had mostly dried from the rain in Utah. “Can we please hurry.”
The driver nodded, calling in where he was headed. He put the car into gear as they wound their way out, heading south and then east.
Athena sat in the back, looking at the traffic passing her, the lights near the airport still bright, darkness looming on the horizon. Driving past as they turned out, she saw a red crotch rocket, the driver displaying long dark hair sticking out the back of their helmet, heading to the airport. On the leather pant leg, she saw a stitched owl decal that rang a bell in her head. It was the same one that Valerie had on when they had fought back in Salt Lake City.
