“I should have grabbed one of these earlier.” She opened driver’s side door and popped the seat forward. Grabbing the dead Russian’s belt, she dragged the body out of the car. “Come on, let’s go.” She jerked a thumb at the Mustang and simultaneously grabbed the extra magazines off the dead Russian.
Dal took one last look at his smoking Beetle. The Mustang was a superb car in all arenas. Still, he loved his beat-up blue bug.
“Dal.” Lena was by his side, squeezing his arm.
She knew what the car meant to him. He felt it in the gentle pressure of his fingers.
He turned his back on the Beetle. Taking a page out of Lena’s book, he grabbed the machine gun and magazines from the Russian he’d killed. He paused, observing the dart gun strapped to the man’s waist. Dozens of tiny red darts lined the magazine.
“What do you think those are for?” he asked.
Lena shook her head. “Soviet poison. Don’t touch them.” She tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s get out of here, Dal.”
He spun on his heel, running for the car.
Lena beat him to the driver’s seat. He expected her to move over and let him drive, but she slammed the door and buckled herself in.
Shit. Apparently, she planned to drive. Dal didn’t like it, but arguing would only cost them time. They had to get back to the farm.
He barely got the door closed when Lena floored it. He was slammed backward into the seat as she peeled up the onramp
They hit the freeway just as a Volvo station wagon sped past with three Russians inside. Two invaders hung out the windows, spraying bullets across traffic.
Lena screamed, but her grip on the steering wheel never wavered. Not even when a bullet pinged off the front hood. She downshifted and slowed down, letting the Russians get ahead of them.
“What the hell?” Dal watched the Russians weave in and out of traffic. One car spun off the road; another barreled across the margin and smashed into oncoming traffic. “They’re everywhere.” How were they going to get home?
“Mayhem and death,” Lena replied, swerving around a car that was going even slower than they were.
“What?”
“I heard the Russians say it. Reap death and mayhem. Those are their orders.”
“You heard them say that?”
“Yeah. They’re using the machine guns for death and—”
“—and the darts for mayhem.” Dal ground his teeth. “They’re doing a damn fine job on both accounts.”
Dal took in Lena’s profile. All he wanted to do was shield her from whatever was going to come. Thank God she hadn’t been hit with one of those darts.
Ahead of them, the Russians in the station wagon had disappeared around a bend of trees. Not good. The last thing they needed was to drive into an ambush.
“Take the next exit,” he said. “We can take frontage roads—”
He broke off at the sight of a familiar blue pickup that zoomed past them on the southbound lane. The vehicle was moving so fast that it was no more than a blur in his periphery. Even so, Dal would know the truck anywhere. After all, Leo had driven him to school in their junior and senior years.
Just as the realization hit him, Lena screamed, “Dad!”
Dal turned in the seat, staring in horror. There was a long moment when time slowed. Mr. Cecchino and Leo’s blue pickup were suspended in a droplet of time, perfectly framed between a wrecked Datsun and a speeding Corvette. A mere one hundred yards separated them from him.
And then he was gone, the blue bumper disappearing down an offramp.
What were the odds that both fathers would pass them by in a matter of minutes? One left them to die while the other drove into the eye of the storm.
“What’s he doing?” Lena gasped. “What—”
“He’s looking for you,” Dal said. Mr. Cecchino had come all the way to Rossi to find Lena. Of course he had. Dal cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. He should have tried to call. If he had just thought to find a pay phone, he could have called the Cecchino house—
Lena made a hard left, the Mustang veering off the road and into the middle divide.
“Lena—”
“Shut up, Dal. We’re going after him.” The Mustang bumped over the dried, rutted grass of the margin before hitting the road on the other side. A car honked as it flew by, narrowly missing the front end.
Dal knew without a doubt that Mr. Cecchino would want him to get Lena to safety. He would not want his daughter coming after him. He searched for words to convince Lena to turn around. He opened his mouth.
“Save it, Dal,” Lena ground out. “I’m not losing Dad.”
He heard what was left unsaid. Lena had already lost her mom. She was hell bent on saving her dad.
Lena tore toward the offramp her father had taken, swerving around cars in her haste. More cars honked as Lena cut them off.
Dal resolved to do everything within his power to protect Lena, even if that meant jumping in front of a machine gun to do it. He’d help her find Mr. Cecchino, and he’d keep Lena alive.
Whatever it took.
Chapter 9Streets of Rossi
LENA INCREASED PRESSURE on the accelerator, speeding through the streets. There were so many people fleeing town that quite a few cars had moved into the oncoming lane—her lane.
Dal gripped the seat as she laid into the horn and swerved around a car. “Stay in your own lane, asshole,” she yelled out the open window.
“Dammit, Lena, save your energy for driving.”
“Like you didn’t think he was an asshole,” she shot back.
“I—shit!” Dal leaned out his window, nestling the machine gun against his shoulder.
There were three Soviets perched on top of a convenience store, firing into the traffic of an oncoming intersection. Brakes squealed. Horns blared. Several cars had already crashed.
Dal would never brag, but he was a damn good shot. He’d taken down wild pigs running downhill through the forest on Cecchino land.
He sighted down
