“Gareth, toss me another mag.”
A magazine bounced across the roof, and he scooped it up.
“Hey!” Gareth said, palming the magazine into his rifle. “That’s Dominic, Edward, and I’m Gareth.”
“Colby,” he replied.
“Make yourself comfy. You need any guns or ammo, help yourself,” he said, returning to firing at hostiles. There was a stack of rifles on either side with open boxes of ammo and bullets spread out. It was a mess. Brass shells were everywhere. It reminded him of… Another memory hit, this time it saw him as part of the LAPD. Outside a home where a gunman had held occupants hostage.
He blinked hard. Focus, he told himself.
“Your father said turn up your radio.”
“It is,” he replied, showing him.
They went at it hard for twenty minutes exchanging rounds before the gunfire ceased. He thought they were reloading, but they weren’t.
A strong voice came over a megaphone, loud, clear, familiar.
“Colby Riker. You over there?”
From behind the lip of the roof, Gareth looked at him, his brow creasing.
Colby peered over to a place called Valley Antiques. He couldn’t see too well because of the night. But standing behind the huge vertical sign, he spotted a silhouette, and he recognized that voice. Bill “Spider” Manning. “You are like a cat with nine lives,” Bill shouted.
He turned a dial on the megaphone and it let out a high-pitched squeal.
He was adjusting the volume. A few seconds passed, then he got on a radio. He was careful to stay out of sight as Gareth tried to get a bead on Bill through his scope.
Right then, three different vehicles, old, rusted-out, banged-up trucks from the ’70s rolled up near the intersection. Headlights shining on the gun store. One from the north, another from the west, another from the south. The east was clear. Over the speaker, he heard Bill again. “You cost me a lot of money. I have to say that little stunt your friend pulled back in Santa Nella was quite impressive. I think you know what’s about to happen. But before you react, and do something stupid, let me tell you something. In every vehicle is gallons of gasoline, and in one is my father. That’s right, Jeb, the man that helped you. Saved your sorry ass. So if you’re thinking of shooting the canisters, don’t bother. You might just kill him. I’m sure you don’t want him to burn to death.” He chuckled. “Now I bet you’re thinking, which one is he in, right?” All the trucks revved their engines, a guttural sound sending gnarly gray smoke behind them. “I don’t want to kill my father, or torch this fine establishment, but I will if you don’t get the owner to lay down his weapons.”
“How do I know Jeb’s alive?” he bellowed, staying out of sight.
“I guess you’ll have to trust me.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Colby. I will send these vehicles in and you’ll all go up in flames.”
Colby was hoping he’d indicate which one so they could shoot the others and decrease the threat. But Bill was smarter than that. “So… what will it be?”
“You got a bead on the drivers?” Colby asked Gareth. At least if they could take out the drivers there would be no one to drive a vehicle. However, no doubt, if given the command they would shift into drive, jam something against the accelerator and jump out as the truck barreled toward the store.
He gritted his teeth and lowered his head.
Gareth stared at him. “Do you know this guy?”
“We’ve had a run-in with each other. Yeah. Nearly killed me.”
Colby looked across the road to Bill. “I have an injured friend. You let one of us take him out, and the place is yours.”
“What the fuck?” Gareth said. “Are you out of your mind? My father won’t go for that. Neither will we.”
He ducked back down again, speaking in a low voice. “I’m buying some time.”
“To do what?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been in a situation like this. But I’m not letting that old man die or us go up in flames.”
“You don’t even know he’s out there. He could be playing with you,” Edward spat.
It was true. Colby wasn’t an idiot, he knew the odds that Jeb was still alive were slim to none, and if it came down to their lives or his, he’d have to die, but if there was even the slightest chance that he was alive, and he could keep him alive, he owed him that. He would have been dead if it wasn’t for him.
Bill cried out, “Come on, Colby! What will it be?”
“My injured friend? What about him?”
A pause.
“We’ll give him and one other free passage, but that’s it.”
“How can I trust you?”
“I wouldn’t but you are out of options.”
“That’s what you think,” he muttered under his breath. Colby shouted back, “Give me ten minutes.”
“You get five,” Bill replied.
Asshole, Colby muttered as he went back inside. Paul was patched up. Still in pain but it was better than before. He would still need medicine, and a doctor to take a look at it to avoid infection.
“I heard,” Jackson said.
Colby nodded, his gaze darting between them.
“He’ll let him go. One of us can take him out.”
Jackson tossed the medkit on the counter and snorted.
“You think that’s true?”
“Yes.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because he wants what’s in here. Anything that screws with that will jeopardize his plan.”
Jackson shook his head. “Plan. That guy isn’t getting in, so tell me something I don’t know.”
“Take a look.” Jackson followed Colby to the door where the floor was littered with glass. Through the opening, he could see one of the trucks. “There’s another two like that. All filled with gasoline. All about to be driven at this store. He will do it, Jackson. Trust me on that.”
“What the fuck?” He burst toward the counter, scooping up his rifle. “If that asshole thinks he’s…”
“Jackson!” Colby said, chasing after him.
