His lids clamped shut, and his jaw clenched. He panted hard.
I squeezed harder on his shoulder, touching around the tender and torn flesh.
“All right,” he said, yelling at me. “It’s outside and down the street.”
“Keys. Where are they?” I asked, keeping my thumb close to the wound.
He dipped his chin, then nodded at his right pant pocket. “They’re in there.”
I removed the rifle from my legs, then handed it back to Jake. “Here. Hold this, will ya?”
Jake took the rifle, then stepped away.
I checked the foot soldiers’ pocket, and fished the keys out of his pants. His face contorted in pain. He continued to breathe heavily.
“Looks like you get to live a bit longer.” I stood, then turned toward Jake and Abby. They huddled close to one another. Jake shouldered the rifle with the barrel trained at the gunman. He glanced at me, then back to the injured man. “You’ll probably want to move on after this. More of his buddies could arrive or some other lowlifes for that matter.”
“Yeah. We’ll figure it out,” Jake replied, adjusting the buttstock against his shoulder. “Are you really going to go after them?”
“I can’t leave my partner behind. That’s not the way we operate.” I looked to Abby who stayed behind her father.
The gunman moaned.
I turned toward him, bent over, then grabbed his vest. “Come on. Get up.”
Jake and Abby took another step back. He kept the rifle trained at the foot soldier.
I pulled the foot soldier away from the shelves. He grimaced. I helped him to his feet. His legs wobbled. I grabbed his arm, then turned around. I retrieved the pistol from the floor and stowed it in the waistband of my trousers.
“You want your rifle back?” Jake asked, lowering the weapon. “Sounds like you might need it.”
I shook my head. “You keep it. I’ll be good with what I have.”
Jake extended his hand toward me. “Good luck to you.”
I glanced at his hand, then back up to him. “Same to both of you.” We shook hands. I looked to Abby. “Thank you for the gum and for helping me earlier.”
She nodded. “You’re welcome.”
Jake looked at her surprised. He gave her a side hug, then kissed her forehead.
I bowed, then walked away, heading for the entrance of the store with the gunman at my side. Glass crunched under our feet as we passed through the busted door. I skimmed over the street and the few cars that lined the sidewalk.
“Where’s your ride?” I asked in a raised voice.
He nodded down the walkway toward the intersection at the far end of the road. “The red Trailblazer.”
“Come on.” I escorted him down the sidewalk, placing his body between mine and the street.
I scanned for any cars or figures moving within the falling ash, but spotted none. The remaining stores we passed sat dark and void of any activity. Security gates blocked the entrance to some of the stores while others had their doors busted open. I peered inside each as we walked past, searching for any shadowy figures lurking in the murk.
We stepped off the sidewalk and onto the street, skirting around the back end of the Trailblazer and heading for the driver’s side of the SUV. I tugged on his arm, then shoved him against the side of the vehicle. I peeked through the black-tinted window, scanning over what looked to be a blanket and other random junk on the seat.
“All right. Here’s what we’re going to do.” I pulled the dagger out, then jerked him around, giving me access to the zip ties.
“Ah, shit man,” he said, wincing.
I grabbed his forearm and pulled up a bit. “You’re going to get in the driver’s seat and head back to wherever it is that they took my partner. If you think of, hint at, or try to warn anyone, I can promise you that death will be the least of your worries. I’ll make you suffer more than you ever thought possible. You understand me?”
The sharp edge of the dagger sliced through the red-stained zip ties. His arms moved forward. He favored his injured shoulder and remained silent.
I grabbed his forearm, bent it back toward me, then lifted up. He wailed in agony, cupping the bullet hole in his shoulder. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, all right. Damn.”
I released his forearm, then stepped around to the driver’s side door. I jerked it open. “Go straight there. No funny business. I’m going to be in the back seat, listening and watching.”
I shoved him forward, then pointed to the steering wheel. He hit the top of the SUV’s frame with his forehead, then climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Do you think this is actually going to work?” he asked, peering over his wounded shoulder at me.
“You better hope it does, or it’s your ass on the line.” I opened the back door, shoved the junk on the seat to the far side, then climbed into the Blazer. “Here.”
I handed him the keys from over his shoulder. He took them, then slammed his door closed. I shut mine and settled into the middle of the seat.
He stared at me through the rearview mirror, then looked away. The engine grumbled to life. He pumped the gas, then shifted into drive.
We pulled away from the curb and drove through the intersection. I removed the pistol from the waistband of my trousers and pressed it to the back of his seat.
“How far is it?” I asked, retrieving the wadded up brown blanket from the floor behind the passenger side seat.
He drove down the street, looking to the
