To Steal a March (Surviving the Fall 11)

“No. Nealson wants this done fast.” It was the voice of the one who seemed like he was in charge. “We’ll prioritize on what we need the most, then come back for the rest later.” Another thud. “And you—get the trailer open, then call Nealson on the radio!”

Jason nudged Mark. “That’s our cue. Get ready.” He spoke into Mark’s ear, his voice barely above a whisper just like it had been when they spent the day in the ditch.

The sound of under-the-breath grumbling accompanied slow, plodding footsteps as the chastised member of the group walked around to the back of the trailer. Jason held his breath, half-expecting his jury-rigged lock on the back of the trailer to fall apart upon being looked at.

“What the hell?” The confused exclamation was accompanied by a rattle of the trailer doors. Another, stronger rattle followed, then came a shout. “Hey, what’d you do to this thing?”

“Do? I did what he said and got it fixed.”

“What’d you fix it with? Glue? Stupid thing won’t open!”

The second voice drew closer and the doors continued to rattle and shake as the two men worked to try and open them. “What the… this isn’t what I did.”

“Yeah, sure. Stop making excuses already.”

“No, I swear! I didn’t put the cord inside the trailer. How could I have done that?”

“Because you’re stupid, that’s how. Just go get the others; we need to pry this thing open and undo your screwup.”

More mumbling and grumbling followed as the chastised man walked off and shouted at the other three. The rattling and thumping on the back of the trailer ceased for a moment and Jason seized his opportunity. He quickly moved to the back of the trailer and removed the board that had been keeping the doors shut, then unwound the bungee cord and reconnected it to the metal loop on the floor. The change would keep the doors shut, but would make it easy for the men to open them by simply cutting the cord.

Jason moved back behind the boxes with Mark once again and picked up the shotgun shell device and fiddled with the trigger, changing the timer from a ten-second delay to a three-second delay. “As soon as the doors open,” he whispered, “I’ll arm it and throw. As soon as it goes off, I’ll start shooting first. You follow up behind me and watch my back and sides. Got it?”

Mark nodded and Jason took a deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable. Seconds turned into minutes, both ticking by in slow agony as he and Mark waited for the men to return. When they finally heard the voice of the first man, it was filled with annoyance.

“Took you all long enough!”

“He said to get supplies, so we got supplies. And do we really all need to be here to help you figure out how to open a door?”

“Why don’t you try it, tough guy, and see how easy it is for you?”

More rattling came from the doors, then the sound of a metallic click, then the bungee cord snapped as it was severed from the outside with a quick slice from a sharpened blade. The broken door began to swing open on its own accord, revealing a group of four men standing around just outside. The one who had first tried to open the trailer threw his hands up and began cursing loudly while the others laughed. They all turned toward the trailer and one reached for the second door, pulled it open and was greeted by a smack in the head by a small, hard object.

“What the—”

The object hit the ground and the words barely came out of the man’s mouth when a loud, ear-piecing bang echoed from the end of the trailer. A scream accompanied the tail end of the small explosion and the man whom Jason had hit square on the forehead with the small shotgun shell bomb collapsed, grabbing for his calves as though he could somehow pull out the pellets and their associated pain.

The next several seconds played out in slow motion from Jason’s perspective, but for the other three men standing behind the one closest to the back of the trailer, it was all over before they realized what was happening. Momentarily disoriented by the makeshift explosive device, they never saw Jason stand up from behind the pile of cardboard boxes and take aim at them. He walked forward as he fired, putting four rounds into the center of mass of his first target.

After the injured man was downed Jason moved onto the next three in line, finger squeezing the trigger smoothly as he kept the rifle pressed tight against his shoulder. A firm hand on the grip kept the recoil in check and each piece of hot brass that bounced off the floor, walls and ceiling of the trailer meant another round had connected with its intended target.

By the time Jason reached the back of the trailer, all four men standing outside were on the ground, gasping and choking from debilitating pain or lying still as blood drained from already-fatal chest and head wounds. Jason felt a presence next to him and glanced over to see Mark standing nearby. The boy’s eyes were cold and his expression hardened as he looked over the group of bodies.

“Where’s the fifth one?” Mark whispered to Jason.

“No idea. Stay behind me. We need to find him before he gets the drop on us.” Jason took a step out of the trailer and swung to the left, checking on the right side of the truck and trailer. The area was empty and he waved for Mark to follow behind. “C’mon. We’ll use the truck as cover while we—”

Jason’s instruction was interrupted by the sharp report of a rifle spitting rounds from somewhere near the edge of the house. Mark yelped and scrambled as the incoming fire thudded against the back end of the trailer, tripping over himself and nearly dropping his pistol as he clawed to get around to the opposite side. Jason reached out and pulled Mark in and panic seized his heart as he saw a streak of blood across Mark’s face.

“Are you hit?!” The words stuck in his throat as he forced them out, ignoring all pretense of stealth.

“No, no I’m good. Bashed my head on the door handle when he started firing.” Mark reached up and wiped his arm across his forehead. He grimaced at the blood and wiped it on his pants. “Mom’s going to be mad about the blood stains.”

“She’ll manage. Now stay low while I deal with this joker, okay?” Rounds continued to hit the trailer, slower than they were originally, but still steadily enough to make Jason and Mark both not want to take a peek out. Jason swallowed his fear and moved up along the side of the box trailer to the back of the truck where he ducked down and continued around to the front of the vehicle. From there he crouched down and peeked underneath the truck, looking for the source of the shots. The source, unfortunately, found him first.

Two shots hit the ground just beneath the truck, the second one mere inches from Jason’s face. He couldn’t help but let out a pained shout as he shot back up and started hurrying around to the right side of the truck where he could put the wheel in between him and the shooter. He was almost there when he looked down the length of the trailer to see Mark turn around the end of the trailer and fire seven slow, clean and steady shots from his pistol. Each shot was slow and methodical, and by the time he reached the fourth there was a howl of pain from near the house.

Three more rounds followed after the fourth before Mark turned back around behind the trailer and stood still, his eyes wide and his breathing heavy. “Mark!” Jason called to him. “You okay?”