I moved along the front end, past the open driver’s side door. A body laid slumped over in the seat. His knuckles rested on the pavement outside the car. The seat belt kept him in place, half dangling out of the car.
Ash gathered on the corpse, coating the back of his skull with a silver hue and covering a portion of the hole he had in the middle of his head. It looked fresh from what I could see—still wet and moist.
A woman leaned against the dash in the front passenger seat with her head trained my way. The side of her face pressed against the gray surface. The strands of her blonde hair dangled to the sides. Her wide eyes looked at me. Trails of blood snaked down her face from the hole in the middle of her forehead. Brain and bone speckled the windshield.
The jeep’s engine whined in the whistling wind behind me, but didn’t start. I turned toward the rear of the grumbling vehicle. The bright gleam of the red brake lights flashed, then died.
I moved away from the front driver’s seat to the back seat of the sedan. A small body laid across the bench seat, facing the passenger side of the vehicle. It looked to be a kid.
A mural of blood coated the interior door. The hood of the dark navy-blue coat covered their head, hiding the face of the child. I couldn’t make much else out, but didn’t want to. Killing kids didn’t set well with me.
Damn it.
The trunk of the sedan flapped up and down from the wind catching the lid. I shook the image of the dead kid from my thoughts and made for the trunk. I pushed it all the way open, then peered inside.
Two suitcases sat stuffed in the back along with other bags and odds and ends that filled every inch of the cramped trunk. Each had been gone through. Clothes hung from the openings and were tossed to the sides of the cargo hold. I rummaged through the clutter, finding nothing of use.
Light shined from behind me into the trunk and grew brighter. I paused, then peered over my shoulder.
A set of headlights sliced through the falling ash and slowed to a stop in the middle of the road about twenty paces behind the sedan. I held fast, watching the idling truck from the edge of the coat’s hood. I glanced over to the jeep, but didn’t spot Jackal through the falling soot.
The passenger side doors flung open. Two men stepped down from the truck and moved around the front end. I tilted my head a hair farther to the side, getting a better look at them.
Both had tactical rifles pressed to their chests, fingers next to the trigger guard. Arctic cameo ballistic vests protected their torsos. Each wore full-face gas masks with large silver filters on both sides.
I kept the pistol at my side—out of view. They stopped about ten paces away, blocking some of the light from the truck’s headlights. I turned to face them, slipping the pistol behind my back.
The wind rushed my face. I tilted my head forward, shielding my exposed skin from the elements.
They stood next to each other. The one at my two o’clock leaned to the side, then craned his neck, looking at the sedan. He had a white skull painted on the front of his vest.
His partner had the same but in red. His gloved hand repositioned over the handguard, but he didn’t bring it to bear.
“Looks like you got some car trouble there,” Red Skull shouted through the mask. His partner nudged his arm, then pointed at the jeep.
“Yeah. Looks that way.” My finger slipped inside the trigger guard and rested on the kill switch.
Both men shifted their weight, and leaned close to one another while staring at the red glow of the jeep’s taillights.
“Where you heading?” Red Skull asked.
“Nearest town,” I answered. My hand squeezed the grip of the pistol harder. I studied the men’s movements. They looked antsy after seeing the jeep, shifting their weight and glancing at me as if they might try something. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the closest one would be, would you?”
He pointed in the direction we were heading. “Elko is about—”
White Skull shouldered his rifle, then brought it to bear. He trained it at the jeep and pressed the side of the mask to the stock.
A single report crackled in the dismal sky. His head snapped back before he could squeeze the trigger. He fell flat on his back, hitting the pavement hard.
Red Skull stooped, then backed toward the front of the truck with his rifle shouldered.
I opened fire.
Two rounds hit him center mass, but didn’t punch through his vest. He stumbled back against the grille and returned fire.
I dropped to the ground and rolled toward the passenger side of the sedan. The incoming rounds hammered the bumper and trunk lid behind me. White muzzle fire flashed from the corner of my eye.
Red Skull retreated to the passenger side of the truck, firing in the direction of the jeep. Bullets punched the grille and top of the hood, trailing after him.
The wheel man fired from the driver’s seat at Jackal, sending him scrambling for cover on the far side of the jeep. I locked on to Red Skull who crouched against the fender of the truck, then worked his way past the door.
I fired through blurred vision, aiming for any part of his body that wasn’t shielded. Three rounds chased him down. One went wide while the another pinged off the body
