I retrieved the flashlight from the pocket of my coat and thumbed the switch. The beam washed over the shelves and racks of clothes that cluttered the shop. A variety of rucksacks hung along the far wall among the other items stocked.
“All right. Let’s split and gather what we can. We need to see if they have any type of masks we can use,” I said, training the light at Jackal.
“Copy that.”
Jackal took one side of the shop, skirting past the end of a shelf and vanishing from my sight.
I worked my way around the racks of army fatigues and other clothes, scouting for any items we could use. The shelves I passed had empty spaces with little to no merchandise on them. A small number of ammo cans lay on their sides. Other various hardware hung on hooks attached to pegboards.
A glass display case that dubbed as the sales counter along the wall came into view. I shone the light over the case, finding a few pistols and knives that lay scattered about on the glass shelves.
The front had been busted out with more glass covering the tile floor. I skimmed over the counter near the register, then along the back wall. Stacks of boxes ran the length toward the back corner of the shop.
I turned away from the counter and spotted a rack with what looked to have a few maps stocked in the steel slots. I stepped over the shards of busted glass and sifted through the variety of maps.
“You find anything of use?” Jackal asked from across the shop. “I haven’t found much. I grabbed an extra flashlight, a rucksack, and a few boxes of ammo that hadn’t been taken. No masks that I can see. Glad we took the coats from those two guys in the plane. Looks like we would’ve been hard pressed to find any.”
“I found some maps of the area.” I spun the rack around, pulling out a Nevada state map and one of the entire country. I took them over to the glass case and unfolded both. I smoothed out the creases in the maps, shone the light over the one for Nevada, then searched for Elko. I spotted the town, then traced my finger along Interstate 80 toward the Utah state line.
Jackal walked up behind me, tossed the rucksack on the glass counter top, then stared at the map. “How far away are we from Salt Lake City?”
“Doesn’t look too far from what I can tell.” I pointed out Interstate 80 on the map. “If we take the interstate there, that’ll take us right to Salt Lake City. The last known coordinates for the plane are around there as well.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jackal said, nodding. “So what, maybe three hours or so drive time barring any mishaps.”
I looked at Jackal. “Probably faster than that if we push it. I figure we fuel up and hit the–” A hint of what looked to be light flashed from the window, catching my attention. I glanced toward the front of the store.
“What is it?” Jackal asked, raising his brow.
“I thought I spotted some movement outside.”
A beam of light shone through the planks of wood that covered the window, then the door.
I folded the maps, then stuffed them into the rucksack on the counter. “Shit. We may have some company.”
Jackal turned and faced the front of the store. The white light moved from the window to the door, then back again. A shadowy figure moved across the window, heading for the entrance.
I thumbed the switch on the flashlight, turning it off. Jackal wrenched the rucksack from the counter and secured it on his back. He moved across the store, fading into the dimness.
The light bled through the boards covering the door, then dropped down to the missing glass in the bottom corner. I stayed low and took cover at the end of a shelving unit as the light moved across a rack of clothes near me.
I peeked around the corner of the shelf, watching the entrance to the shop. My hand tightened over the grip of the heater, my finger pressed against the side of the trigger guard.
The light moved away from the busted glass. The door creaked open. A man stood inside the entrance, dressed in similar tactical garb as the two we’d encountered on the road but with a slight difference. The Arctic-colored vest he wore had a red skull and a coiled snake painted on the front. He clutched the assault rifle with both gloved hands, then swept the store with the gun-mounted flashlight latched under the barrel.
How did they track us down?
A truck drove by, then stopped in the middle of the street. The man’s bulk blocked the entrance and most of the vehicle. He turned toward the road, then pointed to the interior of the store.
Two more men ran up behind Snake, flanking him on either side. They advanced inside the shop with rifles shouldered and lights turned on. The truck pulled away.
I looked for Jackal on the far side of the shop, but couldn’t spot him within the darkness and mess of shelves that blocked me. The boots of the tactical squad squeaked off the tile floor. I honed in on each sound, gauging their position.
The door to the shop remained open. The whistling of the wind played as background noise to the armed militants funneling through the shop.
They drew closer, lights shinning off the floor and along the walls. My head turned to either side of the aisle.
A subtle clanging noise sounded from inside the shop near Jackal’s location. The armed men stopped dead in their tracks. The lights moved
