by Tate, Harley
Past the cabins, a man-made pond anchored a mini-farm complete with rows of fruit trees and a pen with what John guessed must be pigs. Not a bad setup, all things considered. He watched the old woman and two younger members of the family as they came in and out of buildings, hauling animal feed and filling troughs of water.
As his knees protested from crouching so long, he began to stand. Halfway up, commotion at the barn stopped him still. He adjusted the binoculars for a closer look.
Tank! Somehow the dog had gotten free and was barking and pawing at a closed barn door. Was that where Emma and Holly were? It looked more like a horse barn than living quarters. John panned the barn, freezing when the movement of pale fingers through dark wood caught his eye.
They were in there, all right, and it wasn’t by choice. A woman reached for Tank’s harness and the dog turned, teeth bared. She smacked him hard across the nose. John’s temper flared. That dog deserved better. He slipped behind the closest tree and thought over his next move.
Without access to a phone or communication device, he was cut off from Dane and anyone else in the organization who could help him. Emma Cross and Gloria Sanchez were still his responsibility. At some point, after a few missed check-ins, Dane would send the cavalry.
Until then? He was on his own.
He thought of Emma and her upcoming testimony. The woman had done nothing wrong. In fact, just the opposite. She’d stuck her neck out to tell the world about the dangers of a product and ended up on the wrong list because of it. John ground his teeth together.
If the power outage was as bad as he’d been told, killing Emma would be meaningless. No seeds would roll out of a CropForward lab regardless of their safety. But if Eugene and Gil’s warnings were overblown… He’d be up a creek without a paddle. Dane never accepted failure. Or desertion.
Once a hitman, always a hitman until your dying breath. No retirement with white-picket fences and iced-tea-filled glasses. Only the end of the line.
Unless the EMP changed everything.
John cursed. He needed more information and time to gather it. A door slammed shut and John eased around the tree to scope out the scene.
The older woman pointed at the barn and a younger woman rushed to the lock. She yanked it open and reached inside, dragging out first Emma and then Holly. John’s chest seized. Dried tears streaked Holly’s cheeks and he didn’t need to hear the words tumbling from her mouth to know she begged for her life.
She’s just a child.
Emma threw up her hands, begging with the older woman. The man emerged from another building, carrying a rifle. John didn’t need to see any more.
He shoved the binoculars in his bag, unholstered his Sig Sauer and crept toward the clearing. He might end up killing Cross in the end, but that burden was his and his alone. Until then, he was going to keep her, Holly, and Tank alive.
No matter what.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Emma
“What are they going to do with us?” Holly cupped her hands around her face and peered through a gap in the wood barn wall. “They aren’t going to kill us, are they?”
Emma shook her head. “Not a chance. We haven’t done anything wrong. They’re probably just going to let us go.”
Holly chewed on her lower lip. “What about Tank? I haven’t heard him bark since they dragged him inside. Do don’t think—”
“I don’t have any idea.” Emma refused to think the worst about the dog or their situation.
Emma ran her fingers along the barn walls, searching for a loose board.
“You’ll never find a way out. Ma makes us check every month so the horses can’t escape.”
Emma glanced up. Jenny, the girl who’d been tasked with watching them, stood just outside. From the sound of her voice, she couldn’t be much older than Holly. “You’re Jenny, right?”
After a moment, the girl responded. “Ma said I’m not supposed to talk to you.”
“Is she your grandmother?”
“Yep.”
“And you all live here together?”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with it.”
“I didn’t say there was. In fact, I think it’s wonderful. Multigenerational family homes have a lot of advantages.”
Emma kept running her fingers along the wall as she talked, sticking her fingers in knots and gaps, assessing for weakness. She couldn’t just sit in the barn waiting for something to happen. This wasn’t an experiment she’d set up to run, this was real life. If she didn’t do something, nothing good would happen next.
“What’s going to happen?” Holly spoke up, approaching Jenny. “Can’t you just tell us?”
“Depends on whether the law might come lookin’. That’s what Ma says.”
Emma shivered. “If they do?”
“Then we let you go with a warning and keep all your stuff.”
Holly rose up, about to argue, but Emma held up a hand.
“And if they don’t?”
The girl didn’t answer right away.
“Jenny?”
Barking sounded from across the open area and within moments, Tank scrabbled at the door, trying in vain to reach them.
“You better get back,” Jenny offered.
“I told you, girl, ain’t no talkin’ to the prisoners.”
“Yes, Daddy.” The girl moved away. “I know what you said, but they started talkin’ to me.”
“Get on back inside. It’s time to deal with these looters.”
Tank growled and the man said something Emma couldn’t hear.
“Leave him alone! He’s not yours!” Holly shouted.
“Way he growls, we’ll turn him into an attack dog in two shakes.” The man’s voice carried from the direction of the closest cabin.
Emma rushed to the side of the barn and peered through a gap in the wood. She watched as the man hauled Tank up the steps and threw him inside.
The door squealed as it rolled back on its hinges. The woman from the woods stood in front of them with a rifle in her hands. “Both of you, out.”
Emma reached for Holly’s hand. Whatever was about to happen, it wasn’t good. “Cindy, please. We didn’t mean any harm. You can have everything we brought with us. Just let us go.”
“Too late. Get walkin’.”
Emma and Holly did as instructed, walking out into the middle of the gravel area.
“On your knees.”
Emma’s stomach lurched. “Why?”
Cold steel nudged Emma in the back. “Because I said so.”
She lowered to the ground and Holly followed. As they kneeled, the door to one of the cabins opened and Ma appeared. She strode up to the little group, nodding in approval.
Emma didn’t wait. “We are so very sorry for walking onto your property. We should have known someone owned this land. If you let us go, we promise to head straight back to the road. We won’t tell a soul you’re here.”
The wrinkles around Ma’s eyes deepened. “Who else do you know in the area? Are there more of ya?”
Emma scrunched her brow. “What? No. I just meant—”
“See? They can’t be trusted. Spewing lies in an effort to get away.” Ma reached for her belt and tugged a revolver free. “Since we’ve entered a new era for the United States with no power and no rule of law, we’ve declared our property subject to martial law.”
Holly whimpered. “What does that mean?”
“It means looters, trespassers, and any others we deem worthy will be shot on sight.”
Emma gasped. “You’re going to shoot us? We didn’t do anything to you!”
“Not yet.” She nodded at Cindy. “Show ’em.”
Cindy pulled John’s phone from her back pocket. “You aren’t some naïve little girls out here in the woods. This is a satellite phone. It’s hardened against not just tampering, but any kind of attack. Ordinary people don’t have these.”
Emma swallowed. It was further confirmation John wasn’t who he said he wa
s. “It isn’t mine. We’re on the run. A man is trying to kill me and that’s his.”
Ma laughed. “Right, and we’re a bunch of country bumpkins too stupid to see right through you.”
“I had a look through that bag. You’ve got papers in there from some fancy laboratory. What are you, a government spy?”
Emma reeled. How could anyone take her for a spy? “No! I’m just a researcher in a lab. I’m not a threat to anyone.”
Cindy waggled the phone. “This says otherwise.”
“She’s telling the truth!” Holly blurted out. “My dad worked with her and someone killed him. We don’t want to hurt you; we’re trying to run away.”
“What about the dog?” The man asked as he emerged from the cabin. “Seems awful protective for just a family pet.”
“We rescued him from a car on the highway. His owner was dead.”
“Cause you killed him, probably!” He rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get on with it.”
“No! I swear—”
Ma stepped forward and leveled the revolver at Emma’s forehead. “Emmett wanted to use the shotgun, but no one wants to clean up that kind of mess. Besides, hard to miss at point-blank range.” She pressed the gun into Emma’s flesh, and pulled back on the lever. “Any last words?”
Emma couldn’t think, couldn’t comprehend what was happening. She’d escaped an elevator, an assassin, and now, out in the middle of the woods, she was going to die at the hand of a local family, all because she walked on their land?
“Is this really how you want to start life in this new world? Shoot first, ask questions later?”
“Seems the safest way.”
“What if someone could help you? What if the next person who comes along is here as a friendly neighbor?”
Ma tipped her head. “You got any skills we could use?”
Emma stammered. “I’m a hard worker. I-I used to run a research lab; I could tend to the animals.”
“So you can hop them up on funny pills and check their vitals?” Ma laughed. “No thanks.”
Emma’s mouth dried. They weren’t going to listen. Nothing she could say would change their minds. She tried once more. “At least spare Holly. She’s only fifteen. She didn’t have a choice in where we were going, I made her come.”
Ma turned to Holly. Terror paled the girl’s cheeks and wobbled her chin.
“That true, girl?”
“S-s-sort of.”
Ma looked her over. “You know how to sew? Tend to crops? Anything useful?”
Holly’s eyes darted back and forth. “I-I can cook.” She snuffed back a wave of snot. “And clean.”
“Might be something we could use,” the man offered. “For more than one thing.”
“Shut up, Emmett.” Cindy pointed her rifle at Holly. “I say we shoot them both. No loose ends.”
Emma’s stomach soured. They had to get out of there. She had to save Holly. Even if they ended up getting shot, she couldn’t just kneel there and let them do it.
Holly deserved better. She sucked in a breath, tensed, and lunged.
Ma stumbled as Emma wrapped her arms around the older woman’s legs. They toppled to the ground together and a crack sounded sharp and lethal above her head. The revolver. It kicked as the old woman fired, sending her arm and the gun reeling backward into the gravel.
Emma ignored the stones digging into her knees as she scrabbled up the woman’s body, clawing for the gun.
A boot impacted with the side of her ribs and she cried out. Another kick landed hard on her chin and she flew backward, head slamming into the ground. She bit her cheek on impact and blood welled inside her mouth.
She opened her lips to spit when the barrel of a rifle slammed between her teeth. She gagged on the metal.
“No one hurts Ma. No one.”
Tears leaked from Emma’s eyes as she focused on Emmett standing over her. His bulky frame blotted out the last of the sun like an underworld demon ready to drag her down into the depths.
She closed her eyes. There was no getting out of this now. I’m sorry, Holly.
A gunshot sounded. Emma flinched, but her head didn’t explode. The rifle flew out of her mouth, nearly taking her cheek with it. She blinked her eyes open.
Emmett staggered above her, blood blossoming over the sleeve of his denim shirt, a hole where his bicep used to be.
Who on Earth? Emma twisted in time to catch a black-clad figure dart between the trees.
John. Was he trying to... save them?
Emma didn’t have time to think. She scrambled away from Emmett as Ma struggled to her feet.
“My boy! My baby boy! Who did that? Who shot you?”
Ma lurched forward, waving the revolver in one hand as she reached for her son. Emmett still stood, dazed and off-kilter as he stared at his wound.
Emma seized the opportunity and dove for the revolver, wrapping her hands around it and Ma’s arm. The old woman shrieked and yanked, trying in vain to dislodge Emma. But Emma refused to budge. Tearing at the woman’s gnarled fingers, she wrenched them one by one loose from the grip.
Another shot rang out and Emma flinched, fighting anew as Ma tore at her hair with her free hand. They stumbled to the ground, Emma landing hard on her knees, the old woman twisting and crashing onto her hip. Ma cried out in pain and her grip slackened.
Emma grabbed the gun.
Chapter Twenty-Three
John
John cursed. Apart from the first shot at the idiot in the denim shirt, he’d not managed a clear opportunity. He couldn’t explain the drive to protect Emma and Holly. They meant nothing to him apart from a mission to complete. But watching them kneel on the hard ground… Watching Emma plead for her life...
It twisted his insides and hardened his heart against anyone who might try to hurt them. Dane might have given him the order to kill Cross, but in that instant, John knew he could never do it.
She wasn’t a murderer or a drug dealer or someone who committed a heinous act for the sake of greed and control. She was a beautiful, innocent woman who deserved to keep breathing.
He intended to make that happen.
The man he’d shot stumbled around, dazed and in shock from the bullet wound to his arm. It wasn’t close to fatal, but gunshots had a way of incapacitating even the best man. This guy did not seem like the best.
John turned his attention to the younger woman. She scanned the trees, searching for the source of the gunfire. With his aim, he could take her out from there, but he’d need a clear shot. Something the melee on the ground failed to afford.
Emma scrabbled with the old woman, fighting for the gun. John couldn’t take his eyes off them. What if Emma lost? What if the old woman shot first? He needed to give her cover. Protect her from the what-ifs.
As Emma dragged the old woman to the ground, she reached for the gun.
John turned to the younger woman. She scanned the trees and he shifted position to take the shot when a door slammed.
He fired, aiming for the woman’s shooting arm, but she jerked at the noise and the bullet went wide, clipping her sleeve, but nothing more
Another shot rang out. John fell to the ground. A bullet lodged in the tree above his head.
Someone else was armed and closer to the main cabin.
He cursed and scrabbled back behind the tree. Emma and Holly were too exposed. They would be dead in moments if he didn’t do something. Visions of dirt floors and convoluted compounds and the hunter insurgents filled his mind, but he pushed the memories back.
He’d vowed to never relive those chaotic moments. To always be in control. To always have the upper hand. It was the main reason his current occupation appealed to him: he owned the situation and controlled the narrative.
But this? This was going to shit.
John spun, gun up, and fired toward the woman still holding the rifle. She fired back, missing by a mile.
He shouted to Emma and Holly. “Run! Run and I’ll give you cover!”
Emma jerked at the sound of his voice, searching the trees for his location.
She spotted him, and for a moment he swore she was about to shoot him. Instead, she reached for Holly, dragging the girl up by her armpit before hurrying for the far side of the compound.
Another shot rang out, this time from the cabin.
John twisted and caught sight of the shooter. Blonde hair, slight frame. Shirt three sizes too big. A girl no older than Holly.
He cursed again. He didn’t want to kill these people, especially not some girl who didn’t know any better. But he wanted to get out of there alive and he wanted Emma and Holly to do the same. John calmed his nerves. Took a deep breath. Centered his focus.
Immobilize the woman, scare the girl into backing off. Easy.
He stepped onto the other side of the tree, putting eight inches of solid hardwood between him and the girl. The woman with the rifle had retreated to her mother, crouching on the ground over the old woman. Now was his chance. He took aim, zeroing in on her shoulder.
“Drop it or I blow your brains out.”
John glanced up. The man he’d shot stood ten feet away, rifle propped against his good shoulder. He wavered as he stood, gun barrel vacillating a few inches in either direction. He’d either shoot John square between the eyes or find nothing but air.
John shifted. “You’re bleeding out. If you don’t get a tourniquet around that arm, you’ll drop like a sack of potatoes before you ever get a shot off.”
“Drop the gun.”
John held up one hand and made a show of lowering the gun with the other. As he neared the ground, he shifted, about to fire, when another voice stopped him still.
“Don’t even think about it.” He turned to see the girl no more than ten feet from him, freckles dotting the bridge of her nose and a look of pure determination in her eyes. She aimed a rifle straight at his chest.
“Do what Daddy says or I’ll put you down just like a rabid dog.”
John lowered the gun.
“Good girl, Jenny. You keep that pointed right at the bad man.” Her father swayed on his feet.
