A Powerless World | Book 1 | Escape The Breakdown

by Hunt, Jack

  It was like everything slowed and for a few seconds, he saw the inherent danger before him. It wasn’t just the rounds tearing up the car but it was his position beside a house that was rigged with explosives.

  One stray bullet and it could be game over.

  The space between his home and the next was hardly anything, maybe ten feet, if that. Colby stepped over toward his neighbor’s, unloading several rounds at the men. If he could keep them back at least then he might give Alicia and Leo a chance of survival.

  As he returned fire he noticed Leo open the driver’s door and slip into the rear to bring down the two seats so he could gain access to the trunk without popping it. The kid was insane.

  “Leo. No!” He’d barely gotten the words out when he was forced back behind his neighbor’s home under a barrage of rounds. As much as he knew his dog could help, it was too dangerous. It was one thing to have his dog apprehend a suspect while eight-armed cops surrounded a vehicle, another to let him run out into the midst of violent men.

  “Colby?” a woman said, holding a door open.

  His neighbor, Ms. Douglas, was a retired teacher in her late seventies, a spunky old-timer that didn’t take too kindly to city workers coming out and trampling over her lawn just to read a meter. He’d often hear her outside bellyaching. She was a fiery one. He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking now as the neighborhood was being torn up. “What the hell is going on?” she asked.

  “Get back inside!” he yelled, waving her in.

  “What?”

  “Get down in the basement.”

  “What?” she asked, cupping a hand over her ear. There was no time to explain, damn woman was as deaf as a post. It didn’t help that the noise of gunfire was deafening.

  “Can you keep Kane inside?” he asked, leaning forward and shouting in her ear.

  She gave him a confused look.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake.” He mouthed the words, big, in a theatrical manner. “Take Kane. Down into the basement. Understand? Stay there!”

  Despite Ms. Douglas’s take-no-shit attitude, Kane adored her. At least with him inside, he could focus on these assholes. Thankfully, she took the leash, and with one command, Kane followed her in.

  He knew he wouldn’t settle but he would be safe.

  “Don’t let me die, don’t let me die,” Leo repeated as he crawled into the trunk that was already peppered with rounds. Two more shafts of light speared through the metal inches from his face. “Holy mother of Abraham!” He grabbed the bag full of guns and dragged it out, his hands fumbling with the zipper as the men continued to approach. Breathing hard, his eyes bulging, he dropped a box of ammo and brass rolled.

  “Where are they?” he asked.

  “In the same position.”

  He offered Alicia the AR-15 but she had no idea how to use it. Instead, she took the two Walther Q5 Match handguns and began loading magazines into them. Leo grabbed the M4 carbine, courage rising just at the weight of it in his hands. He couldn’t wait to go nuclear on their asses. Leo strained his neck to see, his mind going into overdrive.

  “Where the hell is the ammo?” He noticed the brass rolling away. “SHIT!” He dumped the M4 and switched to the AR-15, but before he could get in on the action, they’d stopped shooting at the car and were reloading. He saw magazines hit the ground and heard the slap of another magazine going in, that’s when gunfire erupted again, but it wasn’t coming from them, and it wasn’t from Colby, as he’d seen him dart across from one house to the next.

  One of the men dropped, crying out in agony.

  “Yes!” Leo said, clenching his hand.

  “Is it Colby?” Alicia asked, staying low.

  “No, it’s the second shooter on the grassy knoll.” He let out a laugh before looking back. Two of the three hostiles turned to face the lone shooter.

  Even in the faint light of dawn, Leo could see the muzzle flashes coming from a house across the road, the tip of a rifle sticking out of a window. The hostiles opened fire on the house, and that’s when he saw it.

  This was the opportunity.

  He swung the AR-15 over the trunk and squeezed off two rounds, taking one of them down. Alicia did the same but was forced back by rounds fired in rapid succession from the one shooter who hadn’t turned toward the house.

  “Let’s move. I’ll cover you,” Leo said.

  A thump of continuous gunfire soon changed their mind.

  Glass cascaded over them like small pebbles.

  The only way was back toward the house but with so many bullets zipping overhead, that would have been suicide, so they opted to hold them at bay while Colby came around and joined the shooter.

  “Ricardo! It’s Colby, don’t shoot,” he said. “I’m coming in.” He entered by way of the rear door.

  A retired police officer with twenty-three years of service, Ricardo was his neighbor two doors down. Now in his late sixties, he’d had an exemplary stretch with the LAPD before he finished out his career with the Simi Valley Police Department.

  Single. Divorced twice and with three kids who were now all grown up and making their way in the world, he’d been a close friend. From day one of moving in, Ricardo had invited him over to BBQs.

  “Who are they?” were the first words out of Ricardo.

  “Bratva.”

  “Russians? Up here? What the hell have you got yourself into, Colby?” he asked, loading a Winchester Model 70 bolt-action rifle while keeping away from the window. His home was already littered with glass.

  “You don’t even want to know. How many out there now?”

  “I took down one, and that kid took out another.”

  “Leo.” At the rate he was going he’d have a full head of gray hair by the time the kid moved on if he survived at all.

  Colby sidled up to the edge of the window and snuck a peek.

  This was the first time he’d really gotten a good look at the hostiles since they’d opened fire. They were all wearing tactical gear. Two bodies were laying out in the middle of the cul-de-sac, blood trailing away. There was an old banger of a truck nearby with the door wide open. They’d obviously managed to nab their own set of wheels. The brazen and ballsy nature of continuing to lay down fire while walking in the open came from having a death wish or being comfortable with these kinds of situations.

  He figured it was both.

  Still, after two of them had been taken out, the others had wised up and separated. One was now behind a trailer on the far side of the street while his pal was one door down peeking around the end of a camper.

  Ricardo brought the barrel of his Winchester up to the lower half of the window and prepared to take a shot at the trailer guy.

  “You know, Colby, I haven’t seen this much action since—”

  Ricardo’s head went back in a spray of red, his body crumpled. Colby darted across the floor as another round lanced through the window frame and splinters went over him. Heart hammering in his chest, he looked at his old friend, then back out to see where the round had come from. The other two assailants were still focused on the Maserati.

  Crack!

  Another round forced him back.

  It wasn’t them.

  There was one more out there, but where?

  He dropped to a crouch and looked at Ricardo, anger rising.

  Colby scooped up the Winchester. Jaw clenched, he hurried toward the back of the house. “Where are you, asshole?” Colby said, gritting his teeth as he darted across to the last neighbor on the south side of the cul-de-sac, his mind running amuck, gun at the ready, vengeance on his mind.

  TWENTY-SIX

  ALICIA

  The shot missed. With zero gun experience beyond her time with Colby, all she could do was keep the attackers on their toes, firing wildly in their direction as Leo tried to land a deadly shot. He’d slipped around to the rear of the car, gotten on his belly like a sniper while she held a crouched position near the front, shoulder pressed against the driver’s do
or.

  Warm blood trickled down her temple like sweat. It came from a small shard of glass that had embedded. Alicia wiped it away then went straight back to shooting.

  It felt pointless like she was wasting bullets, but Leo told her it was better than doing nothing. She’d already unloaded every round from one gun and had moved on to the next. With the one gun gripped tightly between her hands, fear raced through her, aware that the next second could be her last. Beyond the car, the Russians yelled. She caught some of it, knowing a little from her time with Yuri, but not enough to understand the gist of the conversation.

  She panted hard.

  Alicia lifted her eyes and noticed one of the neighbors peering out of an upper window, she was stabbing the window with a finger.

  Alicia squinted and mouthed the word, “What?”

  It didn’t make sense. A middle-aged woman with red hair was pointing over her shoulder.

  What she hadn’t seen was that one of the assailants had managed to shift his position away from the trailer and make his way around the house. When the woman could tell Alicia was having trouble understanding her, she took the risk and slid open her window. “He’s gone behind the house!” she bellowed.

  A chill fell over her.

  She shifted her gaze toward the closest home, then looked over the hood. Sure enough, he was gone. The cover was blown. What had shielded them would now become their final resting place if she didn’t tackle the threat head-on.

  Rounds continued to echo loudly.

  She called out to Leo but he was engaged with the other guy. Colby was nowhere to be seen. She pushed off the ground but stayed low shuffling over to the edge of Colby’s house, then took the chance to run up the side and around the back of the house.

  Behind her, it was like a war between Leo and the other guy.

  Her chest tightened. Worry crept up into her throat, acidic bile. She wasn’t prepared for this. Running and hiding. That was her thing. She’d done a damn good job of that until now. She regretted moving to Seattle, getting involved with Yuri, and allowing herself to get caught up in his illegal activities.

  Her pulse sped up, her breath coming out hard and fast as she caught sight of the shooter. Alicia pulled back behind the house and squeezed in between a small shed and a pile of scattered lumber. She could hear his footsteps getting louder, the sand and grit of the valley crunching below each one.

  Trembling, Alicia tightened her grip.

  She held her breath, too afraid to let it out just in case he heard her.

  It was his barrel she saw first, then a hand, an arm, and his leg.

  She squeezed the trigger.

  Crack!

  The round erupted, striking him in the upper thigh and dropping him. She squeezed again but the gun jammed. There was no time to think, she tossed it at him and threw herself forward as he lifted the rifle. Landing on his weapon arm as it came up, she knocked it out of his hand.

  The victory was short-lived.

  In an instant, he rolled on top of her.

  The guy had to be 225 pounds of pure muscle. Injured or not, he rained down clenched fists on her face, one after the other.

  As her head turned from side to side with each blow, she dug her thumb into the bullet wound on his thigh, causing him to arch backward, screaming in agony.

  In that split second, her fingers raked the dirt beside her, grasping at a piece of lumber. She lashed out at his face but he was too fast, too clever for that. He blocked it with a firm raised forearm and fired a jab at her, bursting her nose wide. A flash. Instantly her world went to black then came rushing back in terrifying fashion, his hands now wrapped around her throat.

  A guttural cry came out, gargling, wrenching as she tried to breathe.

  Alicia raked at his arms. Each one triple the width of hers. Struggling to get him off was pointless. He was too heavy. Too strong. Too big. Darkness crept in at the sides of her swelling eyes. The last rays of light. Every attempt to escape, to claw at his skin or get a leg around him was met with brutality.

  His thumbs dug deeper into her larynx, quickly choking her.

  An expression of pure hatred loomed over her.

  Tattooed. Scarred.

  Spit dripped on her face.

  His eyes, dark, void of life.

  A sudden round erupted and the man’s head went sideways and he collapsed.

  Alicia gasped, sucking in the air, her breath coming out ragged.

  She turned her bloodshot eyes in time to see Leo darting out of view. There was no celebration. No moment of thanks. He’d saved her but was still in the thick of battle. Alicia heaved as she crawled out from beneath the heavyset man, desperate for air, her face in agonizing pain.

  As she scrambled to get up, an explosion erupted.

  A huge wave of air rippled out bringing with it a cloud of dust. Colby’s home ballooned, and huge chunks of brick, shingles, and glass showered the earth.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  VIKTOR

  The timing was perfect, the execution deadly. Colby hit the dirt and remained there, unmoving. Dead. He had to be. No one could have survived that. Still, a wry smile formed as he strolled over to finish him.

  One more round to the face would be for his own pleasure.

  The detonation had been nothing more than a distraction so he could get the drop on the bounty hunter. It had worked better than he’d expected. Flawless in fact. A sudden turn of the head, startled by an eruption, and Viktor had stepped out and unloaded two rounds at his chest.

  Wiped out like roadkill, it was absolutely magical.

  Although he’d intended for Colby, Alicia, and that dog to die in one fell swoop, he’d still managed to turn around the setback. That weasel Manny Rodriguez had been very useful in offering up addresses. Viktor had sent one of his guys over to Daisy’s pad, a few were to prowl the streets on the main stretch, and he had come here, expecting he might return.

  It was beautifully planned.

  He’d had a front seat to their arrival from a neighbor’s home across the street. Viktor had sat there, his eyes wide, just waiting for them to waltz into the trap.

  Then that mangy dog had screwed it all up.

  The only times he’d seen that kind of behavior was from K9 handlers. Military. Police. Taking them out would have made this kill even sweeter. He hated them. Their self-righteous ways. Their macho bullshit. Their false courage tucked behind a badge or a uniform. Strip it all away and they were just skin and bones, weak targets to be wiped out.

  He trudged across the rear lawn, holding a sawed-off Mossberg 500. Two hands gripping it tight, holding it at hip level ready to deliver one final satisfying blow.

  After that, he would deal with that bitch if his guys hadn’t already. It was a pity he had to lose a couple but they’d served their purpose. Sending them out there, a wall of firepower while he hung back, had offered a better lay of the land, a way to dissect the threats and position himself for this exact moment. Okay, he didn’t bank on that neighbor opening fire but he’d squashed that threat like a bug.

  Viktor heard the familiar buzz of a bullet, like a bumblebee whizzing by his head. He fell back, opening fire on a hostile positioned between the two houses. When he saw the culprit, a teenage boy, dart out from cover, he laughed. A kid… a fucking kid? Oh, this was too good to be true. First an old man, now a boy who’d barely hit puberty.

  He was going to enjoy this kill.

  Another round erupted, that one too close for comfort.

  “Okay, now you’re pissing me off,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Viktor scrambled to his feet, chasing down his attacker.

  No mercy.

  No fear.

  Unlike the kid who turned tail and ran.

  Bursting out of the gap between two houses into the cul-de-sac, Viktor fired a warning round in the air.

  “Stop, or the next one goes in you, kid!”

  The teenager slowed his pace, one hand out, the other still carryin
g his rifle.

  “Drop it!” he demanded.

  The rifle clattered off the asphalt. Amateur! There was no way in hell Viktor would have done that. He would rather go out fighting, bleeding to death, than take the route of a coward. As Viktor waltzed into the midst of the circle, closing the gap, he took in the sight of those who were dead. He had to take his hat off to the boy, he’d shown a lot of heart. It reminded him of himself. Young, foolish, all full of spit and vinegar. He scanned the windows of the houses. Where was she? Coming up behind the boy, he grabbed hold of his collar and kicked out his legs, bringing him down to knee level. He pressed the barrel of the sawed-off shotgun to his head. The kid flailed around so he slapped him, then kicked away his rifle so he couldn’t get at it.

  “You’re a feisty little pissant, aren’t you?” He laughed. “Now where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Alicia!” He turned, yelling, eyes roaming the houses. “Alicia! Come on out. Don’t make me kill a kid. You know I’ll do it.” Standing in the open didn’t worry him. He knew that bitch couldn’t shoot for shit. Her attempts at killing his guys were laughable. “Your bounty hunter pal is dead. So it’s just you and the kid. Now you decide. Are you going to run and make me chase you or come out so this kid can live beyond…” He glanced down. “How old are you, kid?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Sixteen!” he yelled. “That’s too young to die, Alicia.”

  There was no movement. Nothing. Just black smoke drifting across the cul-de-sac. Ash fell like snow. A bright orange sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, spreading warmth and light to a day that would be no better than the previous.

  Fear rippled through Leo, his head cranked to one side, the gun barrel pressed against his cheek. The huge man kept turning, dragging him across the asphalt like a rag doll. Sweat beaded on Leo’s forehead, his eyes bulging as he looked down between the houses at the body of Colby. Alicia wouldn’t come out. Not for him. Not for a stranger. She knew better. He would kill her. Leo didn’t want that for her. “Stay where you are, Alicia!” he shouted only to be slapped again.