bhud bhud bhud bhud bhud bhud bhud bhud bhud

  Jaxon leaned out of the window and continued shooting at the speeding semi-truck. He sat back in his seat and drummed on the dash.

  “Let’s go, Doyle! They are getting away. Come on, NASCAR!”

  The Bronco’s tires squealed as he careened out of the school’s parking lot. Jaxon waited for the truck to straighten before he leaned out of the window, again. He aimed for the trailer's rear wheels and commenced his controlled fire pattern.

  bhud bhud bhud bhud bhud bhud

  “Hell yeah! Got one!” Jaxon yelled.

  “WHAT?”

  “I got one. A tire. I hit a tire.”

  “WHAAAT?”

  Jaxon pulled his head back inside the truck and noticed Doyle was driving with one hand while the other covered his right ear.

  “Oh shit, Mr. Falcone. I’m sorry. Those shots are a lot louder inside the cab. I’ll stop.

  Doyle shook his head. “No…keep shooting.”

  Jaxon switched his rifle for Doyle’s and went back to assaulting tires.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  “I think he got another one, Dillon.”

  Dillon looked at his side mirror just as a chunk of rubber slung from the rim. “No shit? Why don’t you see if you can do something about that,” Dillon suggested.

  “Like what?”

  “Shoot back, Robert Dale!”

  Robert quickly rolled his window down and popped his head and torso outside. The wind buffeted him as he tried to see around the trailer they were hauling. He ducked back inside the cab and grabbed the Creedmoor. “I can’t get a shot. The trailer’s in the way.”

  “We got a stretch of straight road ahead. I’m gonna walk this truck from one shoulder to the other. Whenever I cut back to the right, the cab should be angled out far enough for you to see behind the trailer.”

  “Good thinking, big brother.”

  “Get ready!” Dillon barked.

  Robert popped out the window, and his stomach lurched as the truck swung to the left. He teetered outward and had to grab the metal bar that supported the side mirror. He was right-handed, but he was forced to handle the gun with a left-handed grip. He pulled the gun up and waited for Dillon to swing the truck back across the road. Dillon began the maneuver and the cab swung wide of the trailer. The Bronco came into view and Robert tried to draw a bead, but he wasn’t used to aiming with his left eye. This was a narrow two-lane highway and Dillon ran out of asphalt. He had to angle back the other way before Dillon could get a shot off.

  “I’m running out of road. Gotta make it count,” Dillon grumbled.

  The truck reached the far shoulder and began to snake back to the right. This time, Robert kept his eye looking down at the sights and was ready when the Bronco came into view. The passenger of the Bronco was still taking shots at the trailer and wasn’t posing a threat to Robert. He trained the sights straight down the side of the trailer and waited for the driver to come into the open. The driver’s eyes opened wide when he came out from behind the trailer and saw Robert hanging out of the semi with an assault rifle pointed right at him.

  “I got you, shithead,” Robert whispered as he pulled the trigger.

  PAAAWP—BUUAANG…tiiing…whub whub whub whub whub

  The semi swerved to the left and Robert saw a tiny bullet hole through one of the rear panels of the trailer.

  “HURRY THE FUCK uuuUUP!” Dillon shrieked. “He just took ouuut…another tiiii…errrrr.”

  “Sorry, Dillon. I had him until that tire blew and messed my shot up.”

  “Aw shit. Get back in here. We got some curves coming up.”

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Cassandra could see the three trucks up ahead. She couldn’t hear the gunshots because of the helmet and the loud mechanical purr of the motorcycle, but she could see that Jaxon was taking shots at the truck.

  No. Back off, you idiots. You’re following too closely to shoot out his tires. If that semi jackknifes or rolls, you’re going to run up on it.

  She revved the engine and increased her speed. She ignored caution and shot into the curve. She leaned the bike as far as she could without ripping her kneecap off. She drove into the middle of the curve and gave it more throttle. The bike straightened up as she rocketed out of the turn and kept accelerating. She watched as the smaller kidnapper poked out of the cap and prepared to return fire. She saw the trailer stutter as a tire blew.

  Cass lost site as she drove down a slight hill. She caught air as the bike crested and she nearly dumped the bike when she landed and the rear wheel tried to fish-tail. She kept the bike vertical and she closed the gap to the Bronco. The army truck had already cleared the next curve by the time the semi entered it. She rolled up beside Jaxon and raised her visor.

  “HEY. GIVE ME THE GUN!”

  Jaxon was startled to see the unexpected rider drive up on him. He started to turn the rifle on her, but she yelled, again.

  “IT’S CAAASAAAANNDRAAAAA!” She stretched her hand toward him. “GIVE…MEEEEE…THE GUUUN!” she screamed.

  Jaxon realized who she was, and what she wanted. He flipped the rifle around and slapped the rear grip into her hand. As soon as she had it, she motioned for them to get back.

  “WAIT…HERE!” She accentuated her order by sharply pointing at the ground. Jaxon slid back inside the Bronco. She pulled away as Doyle started braking. She quickly tucked the rifle between her lap and the gas tank. She stowed it just in time to lean forward and maneuver through the sharp curve. She stayed right behind the trailer, where the driver couldn’t see her. The convoy had reached another long stretch of road and the semi began another wide swing to the left. She stayed in her pocket and waited.

  Just as the truck started back the other way, she downshifted and tugged on the throttle. The supercharged hyper-sport motorcycle lunged around the rear of the truck. At this speed, she didn’t need her hands to keep the bike tracking straight. She hugged the bike between her thighs and pulled the AR 15 from her lap. Robert came out of the window just in time for three bullets to buzz his head. The last round exploded the side mirror. Robert collapsed back into the truck.

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  She let the bike coast right up to the cab, before she let off the throttle and took aim. The big truck began to pull away and Cass opened fire. She kept the rifle stationary and popped two rounds into each tire as it flashed through her sights, starting with the front passenger tire. She engaged both brakes and the motorcycle fell away from the semi. The entire passenger side of the truck and trailer tilted front loosing all the tires on that side. Sparks and rubber flew as the steel rims gauged into the asphalt and more than seventy feet of steel and sheet metal teetered. She watched as Dillon jerked the steering wheel into the lean, but it was too late. The rear of the trailer began to tip, and once it pitched over, it pulled the the rest of the rig over with it. The trailer toppled down into the deep ditch that lined both sides of the highway and blew apart. The truck slammed hard against the asphalt and skipped over the ditch. The passenger side clipped the other side of the ditch and sent the entire cab into a barrel roll. Glass and metal flew as the truck tumbled. A body was launched straight into the air. It cartwheeled high into the air before coming straight back down. It impacted with an audible thump.

  Cass had come to a complete stop and winced when she heard the body hit. She looked away from the destruction and noticed her army truck had stopped up the highway. She twisted around and motioned for Doyle and Jaxon to drive through. The Bronco inched by as its two occupants took in the scene. Cass waved them on and they sped away, toward the waiting army truck. Cass followed behind them.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Barry and Joel ran to meet the trio as they exited their vehicles.

  “Holy shit, Cass.”

  “Right. That was some badass shit, huh Barry?”

  “I don’t think we'll have to worry about those two, anymore,” Doyle chimed in.

  “Do you know where we are going?” She ignored their comments.

  “Um, yeah. Jamal told us.” Barry saw her wince when he mentioned Jamal. “Cassandra, what happened?”

  Cass wilted to her knees and began to sob. Barry rushed over and dropped down beside her. He wrapped her in his arms and held her for a minute. It didn’t take long for Cass to compose herself. She wiped her face and blinked the tears away. She patted Barry’s arm, and he pulled away from her.

  “You good?” Barry asked.

  “Better.”

  “What happened, Cass. Is Jamal okay?”

  Cass looked at Barry and gave a defeated shrug. “I don’t know. I left him with the Drol’ka’Choth'den.” Her chin began to crinkle, and her chest started to heave, but she took a few deep breaths and pushed her emotions down. “He made me, Barry. I tried to stay, but we both knew I had to protect you guys.”

  Barry’s stomach knotted. Her words hit him hard. Something bad happened to Jamal, and it was because of them…because of him. “I’m so sorry, Cass.” he croaked. “We can go back. We can go help—”

  “NO!” Her tone was cold and stern. “That drol’ka back there is at least a quarter Drol’ka’Choth’Den. Do you know what that means?”

  “Well, I’m not sur—”

  “That drol’ka in the truck…the kidnapping piece of shit that nearly killed us…he was a sixteenth...or an eighth...MAYBE! The one back there. The one named Dunn…I was dead, Barry. I was as good as dead. Jamal rescued me. Healed me. Then he sacrificed himself so that I could get away. So we could get away.”

  “I’m sorry, Cass. I get it—”

  “YOU DON’T GET IT, BARRY!” Cass took another breath and calmed herself. “If Jamal is alive, he will meet us where he said he would. If he isn’t…then going back would only mean his sacrifice was for nothing. If Dunn defeats Jamal, then he will come after me. We need to get the hell as far from here as we can…and we need to do it as fast as we can.”

  Barry stood up and looked at the others. “You heard her. Let’s go.” Doyle. Jaxon. Ya’ll load up. Come on Joel.” Barry grabbed the boy's arm and tugged him toward the army truck.

  “Wait. Barry. We need to load my bike into the truck. I’ll drive Emmalynn.”

  “Who the hell is Emmalynn?” Jaxon inquired.

  “Not who…what. Emmalynn is my M31 cargo truck,” she explained.

  "You named your truck?" Doyle chuckled.

  "It's an old habit. People always named their transportation." Cass told him.

  "They did?"

  "Of course. You've noticed it, but back in the day, it was just your boat and your horse. Except there was a ceremony for naming a ship. You've never seen a bottle of champagne broken over a ship's hull?"

  "Yep. Now that you mention it. I sure have." Doyle nodded as he answered.

  "Well, they do that when they name the ship...the horses are glad the practice never spread beyond naming marine vessels." Doyle missed the joke and she smirked at Barry when he began to chuckle.

  Barry shook is head at Doyle as he rolled the motorcycle to the back of the cargo truck.

  "What?" Doyle was still oblivious as he ran to catch up to Jaxon.

  Jaxon and Doyle scampered into the back of the truck as Barry inspected the cycle for a moment. He was looking for the best way to lift it.

  “What’s the hold-up?” Cass asked.

  “Might need a little help lifting this thing up,” Barry told her.

  “Her name is Amy, and Jamal agreed to give you a work over. Did he not do that?”

  “You mean fixing my shit…and the augment thing?” Barry guessed.

  “Yep. Didn’t he do that?”

  “Uhhh…yeah, but this bike ha—”

  “Amy,” Cass corrected.

  “Well, Amy’s a big bitch, Cass. What’s she weigh…four hundred pounds?”

  “With a full tank, right at five hundred,” she answered.

  “Exactly! The deck height of the truck is as high as my chest. So, how do you wanna do this? I don’t wanna drop it or mess anything up.”

  “Jaxon, drop the gate. Barry, pick the damn thing up. You don’t gotta lift it over your head. Just high enough for Jaxon and Doyle to take it from you.”

  “Cass…it’s five hundred pounds. I can barely lift a case of bottled water without my back wantin—”

  “PICK AMY UP! NOW!” Cass ordered. “ You aren’t Old Barry. You are New Barry. You have to learn your new limitations. And we need you to learn them quick.”

  Barry took a moment to figure out the best handholds to use. He decided to pick it up from the side. He squatted down and tucked his forearms under the chassis. He straightened his legs and hugged the motorcycle to his chest.

  “MOTHER FUCKER!” he screamed. “Grab it. Grab it. GRAAABB IT!”

  Doyle and Jaxon quickly took the bike and dragged it onto the truck’s bed. Barry immediately pulled his polo shirt off and began bouncing and dancing around. He wore a tight grimace and his rapid breaths whistled through his clenched teeth.

  “What the hell happened?” Doyle shouted with concern.

  Barry spun back around, and they could see the deep red blister forming across his jiggling belly. Cass ran up and grabbed his arms to stop him from turning or moving away. She inspected the wound and immediately began apologizing.

  “I’m so sorry. With everything going on, I forgot all about the manifold cover. It had cracked, and I took it off. Shit, Barry. I’m sorry…just give it a minute. It will stop hurting any moment. The blister will be gone within an hour or two.”

  Barry began to calm, and his face relaxed; and his breathing. He realized they were all staring at him, shirtless, and he became very self-conscious. He rapidly pulled his shirt back on.

  “It already hurts less. It’s fine. You didn’t do it on purpose…did you? This wasn’t your way of helping me to learn my new limitations? Did you want me to see how I could heal?” Barry questioned.

  “God, no. No. I would never, ever—”

  “I’m fucking with you.” Barry laughed his deep, hearty laugh. “Let’s get out of here. I keep feeling like something terrible is about to come up behind us.”

  Jaxon hopped from the truck. Doyle heard Barry’s words and felt a cold chill run up his spine as he looked back the way they had come. He pulled the tailgate up before using a couple of ratcheting straps to secure Amy. Emmalynn rumbled as he climbed down. He watched Jaxon climb into the Bronco.

  “Be right there. Give me a sec,” he yelled to Jaxon. He walked to the driver’s window and called up to Cass. “Want us to lead or follow?”

  “Ladies first,” she answered.

  “Aw, man. This truck is so dang slow,” Doyle complained as he headed toward the Bronco. “You people don’t get it. I go fast. I was born for speed. The hare doesn’t follow the tortoise. The hare is supposed to zoom down the road, thrilling all the ladies…taking a couple for a ride.” He opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat, still grumbling. “Stupid freaking apocalypse.”

  “What are you bitchin’ about?” Jaxon asked.

  “Nothin’. Just…you wouldn’t get it. I mean, I just wanna go back to being a racecar driver. That’s all over now. I just wanna drive fast…high speeds and lots of left-hand turns.”

  “I get it,” Jaxon assured Doyle. “Life was a lot simpler a few days ago. It’s all changed. I would wake up. Check my phone. Read my new assignment. Study the mark. Isolate an opportunity…and take them out. It was simple. I enjoyed it, and man, did it pay well. But, that’s all over now.” Jaxon finished speaking and looked toward Doyle, who stared back at him with wide eyes and his mouth agape.