Rose City Kill Zone Read online

  “That sounds good,” I said as the lights of Lehigh Valley came into view. “You could help people.”

  “What about you?”

  I thought about it, not for the first time, as I slowed for the town’s lone traffic light.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I’ll go back to school and learn a trade. Auto mechanic. Electrician. Something like that.”

  We couldn’t escape our reality in town. There were satellite news trucks parked everywhere and people stood on the streets waving signs and banners. Alex sighed.

  We decided to go through the drive-through at the local burger joint. We figured if we sat down in a restaurant dining room it would be a matter of time before somebody hassled us for being out of town Feds, or a reporter shoved a microphone into our faces. The girl in the window handed us a bag of food that smelled like meat, potatoes and grease and I drove to the boat ramp on the outskirts of town where I’d met with Stonebrook. Luckily it was deserted. We rolled down the windows and let the sound of the river fill the car as we pulled out our food.

  “This is actually pretty good,” she said around mouthfuls of burger. “But I bet I’m still going to feel like crap after I eat it.”

  Alex could be a bit of a health nut. I was used to grabbing food wherever I found it, although I was more careful in my forties, as the pounds tended to accumulate a little easier

  Somehow, over food, the conversation flowed more easily. We both reiterated that we wanted to live out in the country somewhere, maybe with some land, although that might be more than we wanted to maintain. We both wanted to stay somewhere in the Western US. She wanted to travel overseas. I was open to the idea but didn’t want to go anywhere vulnerable to terrorist attacks. I wanted to visit Graceland. She thought I was joking at first but agreed to go when she realized I wasn’t.

  The ideas flowed back and forth, and I think we were both relieved to find out we agreed much more than we didn’t. At first it was like we were probing each other, neither willing to tip their hand too much, but gradually we grew more comfortable, and the conversation became more animated and spontaneous.

  The issue neither of us broached was children. I almost brought it up a couple of times, and I figured she had to be thinking about it too, but ultimately I didn’t say anything. Alex’s confidence seemed to be razor thin tonight. She’d express some preference for the future and then give me an expectant look, like she thought I’d get pissed and declare it the deal breaker right there. She was normally so self-assured it was hard for me to know what to do. I realized then that she was just as worried this wouldn’t work out as I was, and in a weird sort of way, that made me feel better.

  She finished her burger and slurped the last of her soda. I’d long finished eating, a habit born of years of gulping down lunch in between radio calls.

  “I’m glad we did this,” she said. “It was like a real date.”

  I laughed. “We’ve been through a lot together, but we’ve never really been on a date.”

  She put her hands on the side of my face and kissed me, light at first, then deeper. She drew back for a second and laughed.

  “You taste like cheeseburger.”

  I pulled her back to me and kissed her and she pressed herself against me as much as the cramped front seat of the Charger would allow. Feeling like a high school kid, I slid my hands under her tank top and bra and cupped her breasts. She made a noise in the back of her throat and started tugging at the buttons of my jeans.

  “Here?” I asked.

  “Why not?” she asked. “If we’re going to act like high school kids on a date, we might as well go all the way. We just have to get these guns off without shooting each other.”

  I kissed her neck and tried to decide if the front seat or back seat would be easier. I tried to remember if there was a blanket in the trunk, but my higher cognitive skills were a little impaired.

  My phone rang.

  “Oh no,” she moaned.

  “Leave it,” I said. “I’ll call them back in a few minutes.”

  “It better be longer than a few minutes,” she said as she pulled my shirt tail out of my pants.

  My phone quit ringing but hers started.

  “Shit,” she said and grabbed the phone. She tried to throw it out the window but it bounced off the B-piller and fell into the back seat.

  “I’m going to find it and smash it,” she said, pulling away from me.

  My phone started again.

  “I’m going to get it,” I said.

  “I know you are,” she said. “That’s why I’m going to smash my phone. It’ll make me feel better.”

  It was Casey.

  “Where are you?”

  “Town,” I said, fighting the urge to let my irritation show.

  “You need to get back here. Bolle is doing something stupid.”

  Chapter 22

  “I can’t believe he’s doing this,” Alex said.

  I grunted in reply. I’d kept a low profile driving back through town, but once on the other side, I’d turned on the Charger’s red and blue lights and floored it. The road was straight and empty, but I was still worried about wildlife and wayward livestock. At this speed, I risked what was called “overdriving my headlights.” By the time an obstacle showed up in my lights, I would be going too fast to stop the vehicle before I hit it. I would only be able to swerve.

  It didn’t help that the blue and red flashers caused the shadows to constantly shift. I felt a knot of tension in the base of my neck. I’d once come to the realization that if I died in a car crash while running lights and siren, I’d be just as dead as if somebody shot me. I needed to concentrate on the road ahead of me, but I couldn’t get Casey’s message entirely out of my mind.

  “He’s desperate to get his hands on Marshall,” I said. “CRYPTER might be a key to doing that.”

  “Yeah, but to bring him to Rudder’s?”

  Earlier, a single pickup truck had left Freedom Ranch, busted past one of the Strykers and vanished into the network of logging roads behind the ranch. It sounded like the Feds had been expecting another boring night of armed standoff and had been caught by surprise. They were trying to coordinate a passel of FBI agents bouncing around in rented SUVs and getting lost on the unmarked roads, with a couple of unmanned drones and a helicopter.

  “Hopefully, Dalton will talk some sense into him,” I said.

  We had to stop talking as I bounced us down Rudder’s ranch road. I pushed the Charger as fast as I dared. I didn’t want to risk popping a tire or blowing a ball joint. Several people were milling around outside the trailer. As I brought the car to a halt I saw Dale, Robert and Jack head towards the barn where we had the helicopter stashed.

  I stepped out of the car and Casey walked up.

  “The plan is CRYPTER is going to drive here, and we’re going to fly him somewhere safe in the Little Bird before the FBI shows up,” she said.

  “Wonderful,” I said as I walked around to the trunk of the car. “Do we know it’s actually CRYPTER that’s coming?”

  “That’s kind of what the argument is about.”

  Bolle was trying to talk on a satellite phone and argue with Dalton at the same time, while Eddie stood by, looking back and forth at them.

  “CRYPTER is on a satellite phone,” Casey said. “Bolle is actually talking to him. He won’t tell us who he really is though.”

  “Huh,” I said, and unlocked the trunk. I was having trouble switching gears. Twenty minutes ago I’d been making out with my girlfriend, now we had an informant headed our way with the FBI in hot pursuit. I pulled my shotgun out of its case. I had no idea what was about to happen but figured I’d rather have a long gun in my hands than not.

  “He’s turning onto the ranch road,” Bolle said.

  Off in the distance, I heard the growl of an engine and the sound of a truck bottoming out on a particularly bad pothole in Rudder’s ranch road. I figured we had maybe two minutes before he got here.


  “Fuck this,” Dalton said. “I’m blocking the gate.

  Bolle grabbed his arm but he broke free. Dalton hobbled over to one of our SUVs and started it. He pulled forward and blocked the gate of the ranch. It was largely symbolic, as it would be simple enough to just drive off the road and go around the gate in grass but that would give us some information about CRYPTERs intentions.

  “Goddammit! Don’t spook him off!” Bolle said.

  I didn’t say anything but I approved of what Dalton had done. Stopping the truck at the gate would give us some standoff distance, to see what we were really dealing with. I handed Alex her rifle. She took it wordlessly and I turned to Casey.

  “Hey,” I said quietly. “You want to grab your long gun and get on top of the trailer?”

  She nodded and took off at a run. Dalton was pulling himself out of the SUV. I could see the glow of headlights as the truck bounced down the ranch road.

  “We need to come up with a plan here,” I said to Bole.

  “The plan is to get him out of that truck and put his ass on a helicopter before the FBI grabs him,” Bolle snapped at me. He was pissed at what he no doubt perceived as a near mutiny from his people. If I had the time, I could probably talk some sense into him.

  “Come on,” he said to Eddie, and they started walking towards the gate.

  I abandoned all hope of reasoning with Bolle. I looked around the big gravel lot that sat between Rudder’s house, barn, bunkhouse and equipment sheds. There was a big piece of farm equipment parked on one edge.

  “Let’s go,” I said to Alex, and trotted across the gravel. The combine, or whatever the hell it was, looked solid enough to stop bullets.

  Dalton saw us and changed course towards us, limping across the gravel as fast as his bum leg and cane could carry him.

  The truck drifted over towards the side of the ranch road, and for a second I thought it was going to drive onto the grass and around our makeshift roadblock. I started to raise my shotgun so I could put some slugs through the windshield, Bolle’s wishes be damned, when the truck stopped.

  I couldn’t see inside the truck. Bolle raised his hand.

  “Go ahead and get out,” he said.

  The door to the truck opened slowly. There was a powerful light attached to the handguard of my shotgun. I hit the switch and in the harsh glare, I recognized Marshall’s pilot, the guy who had been on the runway a few days back when we shot up the plane.

  It was a warm night. I was perfectly comfortable in a short sleeve shirt. The pilot was wearing a heavy, bulky coat. There was something in his left hand about the size of an apple.

  Dalton saw it the same time I did. In my peripheral vision, I saw him drop to the gravel and cover his head with his hands.

  The pilot looked at Bolle.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “They have my family.”

  I debated shooting the pilot in the head, but instead, I turned, bear hugged Alex, and drove her to the ground, where I covered her with my body.

  I never actually heard the explosion. There was a bright, white light and a sound like the ocean in my ears. The next thing I knew I was on my back, looking at the stars. At first, I thought it was raining, then I realized it was gravel hitting me, blown up into the sky and now falling back to earth. I felt really far away from my body like I was watching all this happen to somebody else.

  Beside me, Alex pushed herself up on all fours. She pulled a headlamp out of the cargo pocket of her khakis, switched it on, and ran her hands all over my body. At first, it seemed like a strange thing to do, then I realized she was checking me for wounds.

  I realized she was talking to me. It sounded like she was miles away, and underwater.

  “I’m ok,” I said or at least tried to. I sat up and everything spun for a minute.

  She said something. I was pretty sure it was “I’m going to get my medical kit,” then she was gone.

  I sat there, blinked a couple of times, and decided to stand up. I grabbed the side of the combine and pulled myself up. I held on until everything quit spinning.

  The scene was lit by the two burning vehicles. The SUV Dalton had set as a roadblock was on fire. Its tires and interior were burning. The pilot’s truck was unrecognizable, just a twisted heap of burning metal. The gravel was blown out of the lot in a circle around the two rigs. The force of the explosion had scoured it away down to the bare earth.

  Dalton sat up. He had blood running from his hairline but all his parts seemed to be there.

  There were random pieces of the two vehicles scattered in the parking lot, some of them on fire. I coughed from the dense black smoke billowing from the burning tires, then the wind shifted and blew it away from me. In the red glow of the flames, I saw Eddie lying on his back, spreadeagled.

  I walked up to him, taking it slow because everything around me seemed to spin a little bit every time my foot hit the ground. At first, I thought he was going to be ok. He looked peaceful laying there, the right side of his body untouched, but as I got closer I could see the other side of him, and I knew he was gone. I figured he must have turned away from the blast.

  Knowing it was hopeless, I bent over to check him for a pulse anyway. There wasn’t one. I wanted to shut the one good eye he had left, rather than leave him there staring up at the night sky, but I knew from experience the eyelid would just open again.

  I stood, and almost fell over. There was a voice in the back of my head saying I was probably hurt, and should probably take it easy, but I ignored it. Everything had a slow motion, dreamlike quality. I saw red and blue lights down at the end of Rudder’s ranch road, then something else caught my eye.

  It was Bolle. He was on his side, doubled up clutching his belly. The legs of his suit pants were on fire. I stumbled over and did the only thing I could think of. I pulled off my own shirt and used it to smother the flames on his legs. I burned my own hands a little in the process, but I finally got the fire out. His legs were a mess. I choked on the smell of burnt hair and charred meat and swallowed a little vomit.

  I realized why Bolle was doubled over. There was a jagged point of metal sticking out of his back, between his shoulder blades. His hands were grasping the other side, which was sticking out of his chest. His hands were slick with blood, and every time he tried to pull it out, they slipped.

  “Don’t pull on it,” I said, and knelt down beside him.

  He looked at me, but I wasn’t sure he recognized me. His mouth was puckering like a fish out of water and blood ran out of his mouth and nose. All I saw in his eyes was panic.

  He grabbed my wrist, spasmed once, and died. His body went from rigid and clenched to relaxed in the span of a few seconds, and I knew the life had gone out of him. I couldn’t see any sign of the pilot. There was a crater where he’d been standing, and I realized some of the parts I saw on the ground weren’t car parts.

  Fire was licking along the bottom of Dalton’s SUV. A hand grabbed my arm and Alex dragged me away from the gate. I heard her say something about a gas tank, right before the SUV blew up.

  It wasn’t a big Hollywood explosion, just a giant whumpf and a fireball that went up into the sky. I still felt my nose hairs crisp a little bit as the wave of hot air washed over us. Alex pulled me along, and I suddenly didn’t feel very well at all. I felt like my legs were rubber, and things around me would first spin one way, then another.

  She walked me over to the trailer and helped me up the steps. All the windows were blown in, and both Henry and Daniel had blood on their faces. They were being tended to by Casey, who had blood running out of her own nose. Alex sat me down at the little dinette and shined a flashlight in my eyes.

  The roaring in my ears was changing to a high pitched whine that was downright painful. Alex ran her hands over my head and neck, and down my bare chest. I tried to make a crack about continuing our activities from earlier, but she didn’t seem to hear me. I realized I couldn’t tell how loud I was talking. I could have been whispering or yel
ling. I wasn’t sure. Mostly I just heard the reverberations in my head.

  She said something, and I concentrated on her lips, but I couldn’t make it out. I shrugged.

  “I said I think you have a little bit of concussion.” I realized she was yelling.

  “Why aren’t you hurt?” I asked. I hoped I wasn’t yelling too loud.

  “You pushed me down behind the tire.”

  I realized she had fine little scratches on her face, and one palm and knee were skinned. For some reason, that made me incredibly angry. The fact that Bolle and Eddie were dead hadn’t really registered yet but seeing Alex hurt made me realize how bad things really were.

  I faintly heard people yelling outside, and Alex disappeared out the door for a minute.

  “FBI,” she said. “And ambulances.”

  She pulled me out of the chair and I followed her like a puppy on a leash.

  Outside the trailer, things were bedlam. A bunch of FBI agents in tactical gear were milling around. A guy with an EMT patch on his body armor came and grabbed my other arm. He and Alex walked me around the burning vehicles as a volunteer fire department crew rolled up and started spraying foam. I saw Dalton arguing with a pair of FBI suits with Eddie and Bolle’s bodies in the background.

  I looked over my shoulder and saw Henry, Casey, and Robert following us, being helped by more agents and firefighters.

  The inside of the ambulance was bright and smelled like antiseptic. I recognized one of the rescue squad members as the young woman who had handed us our food at the drive through not an hour before. She still smelled like French fries. They packed all of us into the one ambulance: me, Henry, and Robert. We all expected Casey to climb in as well but she shook her head, and darted back towards the ranch.

  It was a tight fit with all of us in the back, but we made it work as we bounced down the ranch road. I squeezed into a corner and tried not to get in the way as Alex and the EMT worked. Henry’s wounds didn’t look that bad. I guessed he’d probably need some stitches. Daniel had nearly been scalped. Alex wrapped bandage after bandage around his head, but they soaked through. He was getting pale and clammy looking. Alex started an IV and kept bandaging. Finally, the pace of the bleeding slowed.