by Jess Walker
“It’s now or never,” Sam muttered.
He jumped to his feet and sprinted to the barn. A yard out, he slowed to a walk before he reached the side door. The interior of the barn smelled musty, like decomposing hay. He gazed up and saw particles of dust floating through the air, shining like crystal powder against the sunlight squeezing through the wooden planks of the walls. It looked unoccupied by both animals and humans. A couple of horse stalls were to the right, each caged in by wooden boards. To the left there was an open area with several rafters running across and a ladder going up to a loft.
He climbed the ladder to the loft as he held onto Silver with one arm. At the top, he saw hay strewn about and unopened bales resting in the corner. He crawled behind a bale of hay, covered himself in loose hay until he was submerged in two inches of it, and lay down on his back. The barn was considerably warmer than outside, and he felt toasty and warm. Silver lay beside him. The fatigue and tiredness of the day hit him like a two-by-four over the head. His eyes grew heavy and he drifted to sleep.
CHAPTER 20
November 7, Midnight—Somewhere Outside Porcupine Mountain…
Sam awoke, disoriented. The world around him was quiet and dark, and only the occasional scuttling of unseen critters broke the silence. His body ached all over. Peering through the crack in the wooden planks, he could see the perimeter surrounding the house shrouded in darkness, like a black hole in space, void of any light. The only light he could see was a dull glow streaming out from the windows of the house, partly concealed by the drawn blinds.
It was go time. He went down the ladder, holding onto Silver, the rifle once again nestled on his back. When he reached the bottom, he walked toward the exit and stopped before he set foot outside. From the shadows of the barn, he scanned the back of the house to look for any movement. It looked to be all clear. Keeping low to the ground, he sprinted to the side of the house with Silver at his heels.
He kept his back flat against the side of the house and edged his way to one of the boarded-up basement windows. It was no bigger than the circumference of a toilet bowl seat. He got down on his knees and peered inside. Light streamed through the tiny space created by two boards running horizontally across the width of the window. The crack was too small to see much of anything, only a distortion of shadows looming against the dim light. He placed both hands along the outside of the board and wedged his fingertips between the board and the window frame, to pry it open. The rusted nails, which affixed the boards to the wooden frame of the window, eased out slowly. He continued to pull, moving the board inch by inch. When the board was far enough out, he could see inside.
He saw Lawrence! He was bound and gagged, sitting in a chair with his back. leaning against another man’s, the identity of whom he couldn’t make out. Lawrence was a mess, but alive. His face badly bruised and beaten with blood leaking from his nose. Sam studied the room. He didn’t detect anyone else. The faint din of the television and the light chatter of conversation emanating from the main floor told him the gunmen were probably upstairs.
Sam pried the window out further, and the boards eventually broke free from the frame. He tried to open the window, shoving and pulling at it, but it was firmly bolted shut. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around his hand. Satisfied it was wrapped tight enough, he punched his hand through the glass pane, exerting enough force to make it break without producing a loud sound. The glass broke with ease, the shards falling to the dirt floor. He paused and listened for any movement or a lull in sound that would suggest Lawrence’s captors heard the breaking glass. The muffled voices and television continued unabated, a good sign that nobody heard anything.
The sound stirred Lawrence who looked up at Sam in surprise. His eyes were two tiny slits, each swollen out like grapefruit. His nose was smashed in and his lip was swollen. Several tiny cuts covered his cheeks, as if he’d met up with an ice pick.
Lawrence’s face was set in a crooked grin. “What took you so long,” he whispered through his blood-stained teeth?
“The usual, I had to get my hair done and was late for my spa appointment down at the golf and country club,” Sam replied.
He squeezed through the window and stumbled down head first, using his hands to break his fall to the dirt floor. “You stay here,” Sam whispered to Silver before the wolf could follow.
“How many are here?” Sam asked.
“Last count, there were two, but I think there are more.”
“And let me guess, they have dragon tattoos down the side of their necks,” Sam replied.
Lawrence nodded his head. “They sure as hell do. I take it you’ve run across some of them.”
“You could say that,” Sam said.
Lawrence gave him a quizzical look. “And how did you find me?”
“After I got the eagle pendent necklace in the mail, I discovered a hidden memory card encased inside. I did a cursory search of the card’s files and came across a company by the name of Bluenose Energy. When I remembered you were leading a wilderness training retreat for that very company, I knew you were big trouble. Once I got to your last known location at the park, Silver got your scent and led me right to you.”
“How did you make it up to the park?” asked Lawrence. “It’s a good three hours away from Whitebush.”
“Let’s just say, I borrowed a used set of wheels.” Sam smirked, but his expression soon turned serious. “What exactly is on this card? I mean, I saw what’s on it, but I couldn’t make much sense of it.”
“More than you can imagine,” rasped Dexter in a voice that was barely audible.
Sam walked towards him. “And who exactly are you?”
“Sam, meet Dexter. Dexter, meet Sam,” Lawrence said.
“I’d shake your hand, but as you can see, I’m a little tied up at the moment,” replied Dexter, his voice less confident than his misplaced humour.
Sam bent down and untied Dexter and then Lawrence. Lawrence wobbled to his feet, grabbing the chair to regain his balance. Dexter ended up on the floor.
“Have you guys been smoking something I don’t know about?” Sam asked.
“We got injected with something,” Lawrence replied. “We’re still feeling the effects, as you can see.”
“And about the card,” Sam said urging Dexter to answer the question.
Dexter stood up and brushed himself off. “The information on there will put those Russian thugs and their ring leader, Bubba, away for a very long time. Besides the hardcore criminal evidence on the memory chip—the money laundering and the bribes—there’s other stuff on there.”
“What kind of stuff?” Sam asked.
“Stuff like complex scientific formulas that are so advanced, it will change the metal industry as we know it—revolutionize it. Not to mention the distribution of oil in the pipelines. Let’s just say it will speed things up significantly.”
Sam glanced toward the stairs leading to the trap door. “How often do they come down?”
“Sporadic, to say the least,” Dexter coughed. “Between the once-overs and bringing the piss buckets and water and bread to keep us alive, it’s been a blur. Hard to say, really.”
“Blur is an understatement,” Lawrence interjected. “I’ve been dozing in and out of reality like a bored security guard pulling straight nights.”
“Do you have a plan to get us out of here?” Dexter asked.
“I’m working on it,” Sam said. “Let’s get outside first, and we’ll take it from there. It looks like the two of you could use a little fresh air.”
All three froze when they heard a sound. The trap door opened.
“Crap!” Sam hissed.
“Back to our positions,” Lawrence ordered. “Sam, stay hidden.”
Stumbling back to their chairs, they sat down just before a thug they hadn’t seen before entered the room. Sam hid in t
he corner in the shadows by the smashed-out window.
“Where are the other two goons?” Lawrence asked as the stranger approached him.
“Shut your mouth!” he shouted. “I’m Ilya. That’s all you need to know.”
Ilya tossed a bottle of water, which bounced, off Lawrence’s lap.
“What, you can’t pick it up?” he laughed.
Ilya, who was six feet tall and wiry, with hair as orange as a carrot, bent down to pick up the water bottle. He seemed oblivious to the smashed window, which was partly concealed in the shadows where Sam hid. He was too focused on Lawrence.
He opened the water bottled and shoved it into Lawrence’s mouth, plugging his nose to let the contents drain down his throat. Lawrence was drowning. His lungs were ready to explode. He tried to spit the water back up. Some of it was going down his windpipe. He couldn’t take it anymore. His time for being submissive was over. The last thing the Russian expected was for Lawrence to get up out of his chair; he thought he was securely tied down.
Lawrence burst forward, raised himself out of the chair, and head-butted the Russian square in the face. The blow was immediate, breaking his nose with a spray of blood. Ilya squealed in pain and reeled backwards, his hand clutching his nose. Lawrence tried to tackle him, but between the spinning room and his weakened balance, it was all too much for him to handle. His missed. The Russian deflected his tackle easily, knocking him down.
Sam leaped onto Victor’s back. He clung to him in a bear hug, wrapping his arms around the Russian’s neck in a vice grip.
Ilya fought hard, trying to knock him off, banging against the walls and anything he came into contact against. He tried to shout, but no sound or air escaped his lungs. The pressure exerted by the force of the choke hold was cutting off the air supply going to his lungs.
With wobbling legs, Dexter jumped into the fray. Lawrence sat half-dazed on the floor, unable to get up as the drugs were still circulating through his body. Between the combined force of Sam and Dexter, they managed to bring Ilya down to the ground. After a couple of punches to the head and the continual pressure of the choke hold, the Russian blacked out.
Before he regained consciousness, they tied him up with some discarded rope, binding his feet and arms together behind his back. Lawrence ripped off his sock and stuffed it into his mouth, securing it in place with more rope, tying it in a double knot.
Ilya came to seconds later. The Russian’s eyes bulged with anger, and the veins on the side of his neck stuck out.
“You don’t have much to say anymore, do you?” Lawrence smirked. “I would say you’re at a loss for words right now, your tongue is all tied up, so to speak.”
Ilya could only glare at him, pure hatred burning in his eyes. Sam frisked him, looking for anything of use. He lucked out when he found a set of keys. He pulled them out of the Russian’s pockets.
“Looks like we may have found our ticket out of here.”
All three of them scrambled up and out of the window.
Sam was the last one out. He was halfway out when he felt a hand grab his ankle. Desperately trying to free himself, he kicked. With a final burst of energy, he struggled free, the heel of his boot striking his assailant’s face.
As he rolled out the window, Sam glanced back. The man lay disoriented on his back, his boyish face marred by the swelling caused by the heel of Sam’s boot. He had the same distinguishing dragon tattoo on his on his neck. The man rolled to his feet and screamed for help as he withdrew his sidearm. Shots were fired but much too late as the trio were halfway around the house, headed toward the parked SUV out front.
“Those don’t sound like syringe darts to me,” Dexter said, huffing.
“Looks like they’re using the real deal this time around,” Lawrence replied.
Sam tried the key fob when he got close to the parked SUVs. Lights flashed on one of them. A double beep sounded, and the doors unlocked.
“That one!” Sam yelled.
All three piled inside with Silver, who had been waiting outside, following up the rear. A burst of gunfire echoed through the air. An instant later, the driver’s side window exploded in shards of glass as a bullet ripped through it.
Sam slipped the rifle off his back and tossed into the backseat before fumbling to put the key inside the ignition. “Everyone okay?”
“Just peachy!” Dexter muttered.
The engine coughed to life, and Sam floored the gas as another shot rang out. The SUV turned around in a wide arc, turning up the semi-frozen grass before hitting the gravel of to go back down the driveway. It sped down the length of the driveway as more shots rang out, each one going wide of the mark as the SUV was too far away to hit.
“You know the way out of here?” Lawrence asked.
“Not a clue,” Sam replied.
“Turn left at the end of the driveway. That should take us the hell out of here. If we stick on the dirt road for a bit, we should hit a main road or a highway.”
“Why not right?” Sam asked.
“That’ll take you down a dead end. We don’t want that.”
The SUV sped down the dirt road. Minutes later, another pair of shining headlights joined it.
Dexter turned around and glanced out the rearview window.
“Looks like our friends are back.”
“I hope you don’t have the memory card on you,” Lawrence said.
“I wouldn’t be that stupid,” Sam replied. “I hid it somewhere before coming up here. If they catch us and get the card, good riddance to our life insurance policy.”
“No doubt about it,” Lawrence agreed.
Sam pointed at a rifle. “I think it’s time you gave them a taste of their own medicine.”
The rifle lay next to the bag in the back seat. Lawrence reached back to retrieve it. “Where did you find that gun? That’s some serious weapon.”
“Off a dead guy in the mine,” Sam replied.
“It’s probably the same guy that was chasing us earlier through the mine,” Dexter said.
“Very likely,” Lawrence replied.
Lawrence rolled down his window and leaned out. He took careful aim and fired. Bullets spewed out, tearing up the road ahead of the trailing SUV pinging of the grill and shattering the windshield. The effect was immediate as the vehicle swerved and slowed down, skidding to a stop.
“Nice shooting, cowboy,” Dexter drawled from the back seat.
“For somebody who was as high as a kite earlier, your shooting is on point,” Sam said.
Sam gained distance on them as the SUV plodded ahead but was blinded by a bright light hovering in the sky above them.
“Crap!” Lawrence yelled. “They got a helo.”
“Or it could just be a super tall double decker bus with a spotlight on top,” Dexter interjected.
Sam glanced at Dexter, unsure of how to take his joking remarks. “Somehow, I think it’s a helicopter,” Sam replied.
The helicopter descended, closing in fast. It hovered a couple feet above the road in front of them, effectively blocking their path forwards.
Sam slammed the steering wheel in disgust.
“Shit, shit, shit!”
“Did you have a B?” Lawrence asked.
“You ever play chicken with a helicopter?” Sam replied. He was only half serious.
“No, I haven’t, but I got a good idea who’ll come out on top.”
The SUV picked up speed. Sam pressed the accelerator. With gritted teeth, he stared ahead with cold resolve.
“Lawrence!” Dexter yelled, shaking his head from the backseat. “He’s not slowing down! Lawrence! Tell him to slow down!”
“What are you doing?!” Lawrence hissed.
“Exactly what I told you,” Sam snapped back. “Playing chicken.”
The SUV was twenty-five yards away and a
pproaching fast. Twenty yards, fifteen yards, ten yards, five yards whizzed by in a blur until it was only feet away. A collision was imminent. At the very last second, the helicopter pulled up. The SUV blasted forward, brushing past the helicopter’s skids in a shower of sparks. The helicopter turned around and followed them. Bullets chewed up the ground on either side of the SUV as it forged ahead.
“I got an idea,” Lawrence said. “See the small road up ahead in the distance?
“Yeah, so?” Sam replied.
“It’s an abandoned logging road. Take it!”
Seconds later, the SUV swerved onto the logging road. The road was bumpy and mud-covered, just wide enough to travel on. The SUV bounced around, its suspension working overtime as it tore down the road.
“See those railroad tracks. Get on them,” Lawrence instructed.
Sam cranked the wheel hard to the right, and the SUV shot onto the tracks. The helicopter stayed glued to them, hovering close to the road a couple of feet behind.
“What are we looking for? Where are we going?” Sam stammered.
“You’ll see,” Lawrence replied.
“You’ll see, really. You got to give me more than ‘we’ll see,’” Sam hissed.
The helicopter sped ahead, flying directly over top until it was in front of them. It spun around to face them while it continued to fly backward, maintaining the same speed and direction of travel. A rope dropped from inside the helicopter, and a man dressed in black army fatigues rappelled down. He remained suspended in midair in front of them with his gun aimed squarely at their SUV. Shots were fired. Bullets tore into the windshield, shattering it in an explosion. Shards of glass pelted Sam’s face, stinging him like a million tiny razors. Wind rushed through the SUV as he fought to steer it.
“You see the tunnel?” Lawrence yelled.
