Always Faithful, page 21
Allen turned to Jacob. “Thanks, stupid...” he muttered to himself.
Jacob sucked in a breath, leaning against the tree, and smiled wanly. “Don’t mention it.”
“You’re hit,” Elle gasped.
“Always had...good eyes,” he managed with a wan smile.
Elle shoved his hands aside, ripping the jacket he wore wide, pulling his shirt free and ripping it apart, buttons flying, exposing the oozing hole low on his left side. Her mouth tight, she felt around to the back, feeling for the jagged exit wound. She found it and he jerked, growling. “Hell! There’s already one hole, I don’t need another.”
“We need to get that packed before you bleed out, or you won’t be any good to anyone,” she stated, refusing to give in to the fear flooding through her. She remembered this scene, and how it had ended the last time.
He nodded, leaning against the trunk, the only thing holding him up. “I have gauze stuffed in my vest pocket, and tape.” Just that came in mighty handy in the war when you didn’t have time to grab the whole kit. Without a word, Elle reached in and fished it out. She was no expert by any means, but she could fold and pack the holes, taping them off awkwardly without undressing him completely. “Ease up! Are you trying to kill me?” he hissed, gritting his teeth and trying not to move.
She glared up at him, trying not to let her panic show. “There, that should hold for now.”
For just a second, his face softened. “I’m tough, Elle. No itty-bitty bullet is going to slow me down. And you make an awful pretty Florence.”
“Oh, shut up, you.” She glanced around the trunk and groaned. “I see movement again—they’re circling around past the lake.
“Flanking us,” Jacob gasped, bringing his gun along his side, trying to straighten away from the tree.
Allen turned away, beading down on a fleeing figure hurtling past the crest of the hill leading down to the lake. He took careful aim and squeezed off a shot. There was a muffled shout cut short. “A second down,” Allen observed calmly.
“So, we give them something to shoot at,” Elle said coldly.
Jacob gave her an incredulous look. “Once was plenty, thank you.”
With a growl, she reached out and snatched the hat off Allen’s head. “Hey!” he complained, snow covering his light brown waves in seconds.
Elle looked around, found a length of stick close to six feet long, and carefully propped both against the tree they hid behind. The hat was visible, but barely, from the direction of the lake. “Come on, they’ll be on us in seconds.” She looked at Jacob, her eyes narrowed. “Can you run?”
“Not while you’re still talking,” he grumbled.
Elle gave a grunt of annoyance and glanced once more towards the lake, releasing a couple more well-placed shots just over the crest of the hill they were using for cover. She thought she heard a cry of pain, but she was too busy leading them deeper into the woods, and away from the men closing in on them.
They made it another hundred yards when Allen pulled both Jacob and Elle off the path behind a thicket of thorns, the thick dark limbs providing a ready barrier from sight. “Look,” he hissed. They looked back and Elle raised her gun and waited. Seconds later, Allen’s hat exploded.
“That’s one!” came a shout.
“You’re an idiot,” someone yelled back.
Seconds later, a branch above Elle’s head blew apart, splinters raining down, one of them grazing her cheek and leaving a bright red streak. She ignored it and returned fire and realized something. The men chasing them had fanned out, surrounding them once more. And they were all together in one spot...and trapped.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
August considered that even in the dark, he still had an advantage over the Freedom Fighters moving in on the camp.
He knew the land—they didn’t. And he’d had the same training, albeit it had been a few years ago, if he were honest. The thought arrived just as his foot caught on a branch and he nearly did a nose plant into the giant maple in front of him. Somehow, he righted himself, holding back a curse.
Pursing his lips tight, he kept his eye on the target ahead of him, the man who thought he was invisible, hiding close to the ground. He was nothing more than an inky blur in the darkness. He’d set himself up flat to the ground, taking advantage of the brush pile he blended in with, and the white and brown camouflage overalls that allowed him to blend perfectly with his surroundings.
As August placed his feet, creeping forward, he took advantage of the other man’s one mistake. The mottled pattern of dark and light colors was too perfect, making it an anomaly with the ground and the pile of brush he was lying beside. August had always been good at picking such things out. It had made him an effective member of his unit, locating the enemy’s sniper, visible through a bare three-inch crack in a window, high in a building, through a scope in the rubble-strewn cities they’d moved in on. He’d saved their unit more than once, becoming the eyes and ears of his commandant. Right until the day when he missed just one. Years of therapy later and he still had the nightmares, the moments when he wished it had been him.
Now he tossed the memories aside and hesitated beside the tree, his eyes on his target, now less than five yards away. His quarry had situated himself a distance from his compadres, though he was sure to have radio communication. August needed to make sure he didn’t hit that button before he took him down. He slunk from the cover of one tree to the next, his eyes beading down, watching his feet for hidden branches that would snap beneath his feet and give him away. Slowly, he closed the distance. A couple hundred yards farther to his north, Dylan was doing the same, looking to get a drop on the enemy, to narrow the odds that weren’t in their favor.
They were outmanned at close to two to one, and while they were better than the average civilian, they didn’t have access to the firepower the militia controlled, and they were all years out of practice in any maneuvers.
But then August figured the will to survive helped even the odds. So did sharp instincts, and most snipers had them. As August reached his target and lunged, the man, acting on some sixth sense, rolled over, bringing his rifle with him. He didn’t have time to bring it round to fire but used it as a battering ram, thrusting it out and into August’s face as they fell. He gave a grunt of pain when it contacted cartilage, feeling a rush of dampness from his nose when the steel hit. He reached out and grabbed either end, rolling over the ground in a tug of war with his adversary. It was just his bad luck that when they came to a stop, he was on the bottom. Despite his size, gravity was a great equalizer. It was much easier to push down than up. As the gun closed in on his neck and they battled silently, August read the tell in the other man’s black eyes behind the mask he wore, deadly intentions showing through slits in his mask. He’d choke him out, weaken him, and finish the job with the Ka-Bar he had strapped to his side. Neat and efficient.
August didn’t like the odds. So, he evened them, allowing the rifle to sink left, pulling the man’s attention and weight to one side. As soon as he felt the shift, he brought his knee up with deadly precision. The other man gave a grunt of pain, but somehow held on. But the angle had shifted them both, and August pushed into the momentum as they rolled. Now August came out on top. The other man was younger, with the wiry limberness of youth, but August outweighed him, and he was stronger. He pushed down, his jaw clenching, a hiss of determination whistling through his teeth as the distance narrowed an inch at a time.
He almost didn’t catch the blur of movement out of the corner of his eye, he was so focused on his quarry, but the same instincts that had kept him alive in his unit served him there in the deep woods of the Upper Peninsula. He glanced sideways and gave a great yank, pulling upwards at the same time. The momentum pulled the other man with him, creating an instant block. He watched the man’s eyes go wide and his mouth form a mute O and slacken with realization. August stared at the broadhead, peeking through almost dead center, blood collecting on the tip of the shiny head mere inches from his nose.
He thrust the dead militia man aside, scrambling sideways to gain his footing, to bring his own weapon around. Before he could, his attacker was on him, a massive boot in the middle of his sternum planting him firmly into the ground, already drawing down on him for the finishing shot. August gasped and realized all those stories about your life flashing before your eyes was just bullshit. He saw none of that. Instead, he was just sorry he’d been caught, and he was going to die without kissing a certain irritating, sassy mouth just once. He glared up at his assailant, taller than the other man, beefier, his light eyes maniacal with glee as his finger tightened on the trigger. August refused to close his eyes, glaring back with an infusion of hatred he could only hope gave the other man nightmares.
He heard the thwack of something solid making contact and waited for the pain. Instead, he watched the butt end of a shotgun collide with his assailant’s head. The contact jarred the other man’s trigger finger, deflecting his aim. August gulped when the shaft left the bow quicker than the eye could follow, and grazed his cheek, leaving a thin streak of red along his whiskered jaw as it buried itself several inches into the earth through the dirt and snow. He gulped, heaving the unconscious man sideways and scrambling to his feet.
August turned to stare at Eli Parse dumbly, blinking. All he could think was that someone had scared all the white right out of him. His face was blacker than August’s, his eyes stark white in his soot covered face. “What happened to you?”
Eli’s eyes flashed with disgust. “Stop flapping your jaw. We have bigger problems.” Without another word, he took off at a jog, heading north. August watched him move away into the dark. Before he had time to gather his gun, and to make sure his killer wasn’t waking up anytime soon, Eli had disappeared from sight.
With a grunt, August moved to catch up.
CONCEALED IN THE HOLLOW of a tree several hundred yards beyond August, Dylan waited for just the right opportunity. The dark hampered his ability to distinguish how many there were, the sound of whispered words and the soft squawk of a radio the only clues he had to their whereabouts. There were too many of them to take on all at once, and they were too close together to single any of them out.
He followed the movement of the man on the outer perimeter when he broke away from the others, moving sideways in Dylan’s direction, flanking the cabins and gliding skillfully through the woods towards the back. Dylan held his breath as he moved beyond the immediate sight of his companions, his rifle ready in his hand. Dylan’s jaw tightened when he spotted the night vision goggles the other man was using. They weren’t a sophisticated pair, but better than none. It made the man a lot more mobile, being able to see two feet ahead of himself in the dark.
But Dylan still had the art of surprise. He waited as the man neared, anticipating he’d pass right in front of him, praying he wouldn’t spot his hidey-hole before Dylan had a chance to strike.
His entire body tensed in anticipation. He blinked when the man suddenly stopped dead, his hand going to the side of his head. He listened intently to the small, invisible mic in one ear. He was communicating with someone in charge. The man gave a terse nod as if the man on the other end could see him and spun on his heel and headed back the way he’d come. In astonishment, he saw movement farther on, as the others all around him retreated as well, backtracking through the woods the way they’d come. He tried to wrap his mind around the implications. He didn’t hear any sirens. Maybe the cops had come in silently and they’d been tipped off somehow. It made him highly suspicious of their motives. These were not guys who would be deterred by a few small-town keystone cops, unused to combat. Something else was happening. As they faded away into the night, he straightened away from the tree. A few yards on, two more men materialized, and he raised his gun in alarm before he recognized August with someone he didn’t know stepping into the open a few yards beyond him, a shotgun in his hand. August held up a hand, and Dylan held his fire. Both approached, and he realized the other man was seventy if a day. “Who are you?”
He glared at Dylan as if the entire night was his fault and ignored him. He turned to August. “Something’s up. They had us pinned down and running like hogs through a chute.”
August nodded grimly. “Let’s go find the others.” Before they’d moved another fifty yards, Jacob, followed by Elle and Allen, appeared, their eyes staring in confusion as the last of the militia disappeared from sight.
“I don’t like it. It feels wrong.” Elle spoke up.
August looked around, frowning. “Did anyone see Cady or his brother?”
Allen scowled, looking back towards the cabins. He frowned over at Elle. “You and Jacob hid Tessa, right?”
Elle gulped. “We did.”
Without a word, they turned towards the cabin, picking up a jog. Elle, followed by the others, took the steps onto the porch. The rest crowded behind as they burst through the door and into the cabin and stopped dead.
“Damn,” Elle whispered.
TESSA SHIVERED, CLUTCHING the ends of the blanket around her shoulders, trying to control the shakes that seized her. Her feet were drawn up, perched on the rungs of the stool—not easy when your stomach was wider than the seat. But what if there were spiders, or centipedes? They could be poisonous. If they bit her, would the poison reach the baby? She gulped in a breath of pungent air, redolent with earth and a musky dampness from the icy walls. The dark was absolute, her eyes straining to pull in the thinnest thread of light through the barely discernible cracks and the room above. It was no use. She’d heard the rat-a-tat-tat of the guns, muffled by the earth but still recognizable. She hated not knowing what was going on, whether her new friends were alive or dead, giving their lives for her, a stranger they barely knew. She should have gone when she had the chance. It was one thing to put herself in danger, but she’d pulled them into her problems, made them theirs.
She did not know how long she sat there in the damp darkness, alone and terrified. When she heard a thump overhead, her head jerked up with a small cry. She slapped a hand to her mouth, thrusting her fist inside to still the whimpers. Someone was in the cabin. Maybe it was over, and Elle and August had come back for her. She opened her mouth to cry out and then clamped it shut, clenching her jaw. What if it was him? Cady? The others had told her not to move, to make no sound, to wait for them to come back. It’s what she would do.
The sound of scuffling feet above her head and the light cloud of dirt that broke free and rained down on her had her struggling not to cough, holding her breath. She buried her head in the blanket and squeezed her eyes shut tight.
The trap door sprang open all at once with a groan. The firelight rushed in, bright on her cheeks, and she snapped her eyes open, looking up and blinking, blinded by the sudden light. When her vision cleared, she opened her mouth and screamed.
“HE’S GOT HER. NO TELLING where they’re heading,” August snapped, kicking the trap door closed.
Jacob pushed away from the door, and Elle’s eyes swung in his direction. “We can use Mia to track them. They can’t have gotten far, and we took a few of them out,” he gasped, swaying. His eyes were glassy with pain, his mouth white at the edges. When he started forward and didn’t stop, his eyes rolling up in his head, Dylan and August reached out and snagged him before he hit the floor.
Elle grimaced, pulling his clothes aside, checking the wound. “It’s bleeding through. We have to get him to the hospital.” She looked up at the others.
Eli gave a grunt and stepped forward, holding his head. “I don’t feel so good. One of them snuck a knock to my noggin, head’s hurting something fierce. But I could get him there.”
Elle opened her mouth to protest, and then snapped it shut. It made the most sense. Jacob was getting weaker. It was a clean wound, but it needed attention and he’d just slow them down. Time was critical if they were to catch up to Cady and the others before they bundled Tessa into a car and took off for parts unknown. They wouldn’t be going back to the compound now that it had been compromised.
“Fine,” she snapped. She eyed Eli. “You can drive, right?”
“No, haven’t sat behind the wheel of a vehicle in twenty years.”
They all turned and gaped at him. He gave a lopsided grin. “Like a bike, right? Just hit the gas and turn the wheel.”
“Maybe I should go with...” August suggested.
Eli glared at him. “I’m joking—maybe it’s only been ten. I can get him there, and you need everybody with a gun and strong feet to get going and catch them before it’s too late. You’re wasting time.”
“Don’t wreck it. I’m still making payments,” Elle hissed, plopping the keys in his hand. August bent down, waving Dylan aside, and picked Jacob up in a fireman’s carry. At well over six feet and broad at the shoulders, Jacob was anything but light. But August made it look easy as he shouldered his way through the doorway, Jacob’s head missing the frame by an inch. Together, they loaded him into the back seat and Eli got behind the wheel. He glared at the controls in consternation, his feet prancing around on the floor. “What the hell did they do with the clutch?”
August cleared his throat in alarm. “Is that a joke?”
Elle’s mouth tightened. “It’s an automatic. Remember what you said—all you have to do is steer and push the gas.” Five minutes later they watched him peel down the drive, fishtailing on a patch of ice twice before he reached the narrow path through the woods.
“He’s going to kill them both. If the gunshot didn’t get him...” Elle moaned.
Dylan reappeared behind them. He’d gone to retrieve Mia, who’d been very vocal about the injustice of being locked in the bathroom. “We need to get going.”
Elle gave a sharp nod. “I’m going to grab a couple more clips first, and something of Tessa’s for Mia to get the scent.” The others gave a nod.
