“At least three down,” he said, desperate to control his runaway heartrate and the pounding of blood through his eardrums.
The first return shot came in. Emily yelped as the sound of a metal plink tore into the truck somewhere up front.
He raised the liftgate. “You okay?” he asked her through the compartment.
She was low in the front seat. “I’m good. I’m getting out.”
He whispered, “Shoot from underneath.”
The next few seconds belonged to the bad guys. Both he and Emily were repositioning, giving the bikers a chance to get into the fight. He hated to do it, but he only had five shots left in his semi-automatic pistol and there was at least four men left to shoot. Those were terrible odds.
Emily had made a good decision abandoning the interior of the truck. Once the element of surprise was lost, she’d gotten out of there before everyone shot through the window.
Bullets hit the truck in several places. The men screamed orders to each other. All the while, he calmly reached in and pulled out a Benelli M4 shotgun from his stash of stolen firearms. Up until this moment, Ted hadn’t needed a close-combat gun, but he was glad he’d taken it. Thanks to Meechum, it was already loaded with five rounds of buckshot, with an extra already in the chamber.
He waited until he thought Emily was in position, which took three or four seconds. His heart was about to burst from his chest. The familiar sensation of tunnel vision crept up on him. It was deadly business he was about to do.
Ted leaned around the back of the truck.
One of the shooters already had him lined up from a kneeling position behind the frame of his motorbike. They fired at the same time.
The thump of the heavy combat shotgun kicked against his shoulder, and probably blew out his overtaxed eardrums, but the man took grape shot in the face and chest. His bike seat exploded, too, sending white stuffing into the air.
He lined up the next man, but he fell almost as he watched. Emily had taken her shot from under the truck. It caught the man in the knee, causing him to collapse onto the gravel. She dealt a few kills shots once his side was exposed.
There were two men left, both toward the back of the line of bikes.
Ted fired all five of his remaining cartridges, peppering them over and over with buckshot. His intention was to put the fear of god into them as he abandoned the shotgun and switched again to an AR.
Emily never let up on her rifle, either. He wished he could tell her to shoot and scoot, but there wasn’t time, plus if they didn’t know already, he didn’t want to give the bikers a clue as to where she was.
“I’m out!” she screamed.
He would have to teach her not to give such tactical details away, too.
Ted didn’t need much time. He pulled out the rifle, primed the first round, and aimed it at the men. At the same time, one of the guys had popped up.
“I surr—”
Ted shot him out of instinct, directly through his throat.
“Oh, shit,” he blurted.
The guy stood there for two seconds, then fell over backward.
There wasn’t a sound on the parking lot, save for the wind.
He retreated behind the truck, pulled out one of the extra ARs, and went over to Emily. She’d hunkered down behind the rear tire, which was smart. “Here. Cover me.”
“Where are you going?” she asked with surprise.
“I thought there were two left. I have to make sure they’re all dead.” He assumed he’d hit the second-to-last guy when he unleashed the volley of shotgun shells.
She nodded grimly. “Be careful.”
He kept his rifle trained on the chaotic pile of bodies and bikes, but he didn’t leave the safety of the corner of the truck. None of the men moved, suggesting they were all dead. It was a tribute to how close they’d all been in the battle. A hit at point-blank was a death sentence.
Ted was thinking how lucky they’d been until he noticed the nearest man, the guy who’d come up to the truck in the first place, looking at him with living eyes. He was unarmed and reached out with one hand, as if he was trying to talk.
“What?” Ted asked, still shielding himself with the truck’s back corner.
“Our map blew away in the wind. We only wanted to know how to get back to base from here. Why…”
The man expired mid-sentence.
Ted leaned against the truck, battle tension draining out.
The battle for Nowheresville, Colorado, was over.
NORAD Black Site Sierra 7, CO
When the elevator opened, Tabby expected a fight. She was ready for it. Almost savored it. Anything to feel like she was in charge of her own fate, no matter how futile. However, she was instead met with absolute blackness.
“What the?”
A second later, ceiling lights flickered on, as if they were triggered by motion. It revealed a long, thin chamber made of bare metal paneling that wasn’t much wider than a one-car garage. It smelled like an oil-change business, as if lots of machinery was working in the background.
She slowly walked out, wary of an ambush.
The space was barely long enough to fit four elevators along the same wall. Those closest to her were labeled Transfer 1. The others were labeled Transfer 2. There was also a large diagram between the two sets, as well as computer equipment inset in the same wall.
“This keeps going down,” she said to herself, pointing to the map illustrating how the elevator system worked. There were four more landings between her and the bottom of the ten-mile pit David was so proud of showing off.
She briefly thought about staying on the platform where she was. There were no guards, of course, and it was off the
