To Steal a March (Surviving the Fall 11)

“Mark! Behind you!” The first voice was familiar, squeezing Mark’s heart with warmth and love even though the voice itself was full of panic.

“What the…” The second was low and rough, like gravel across a washboard. Mark swiveled from his instinctive turn to his mom’s voice, pivoting on his heels to face the man’s voice on his left. He raised the pistol as he turned, aimed it at the center of the blurry mass in front of him and pulled the trigger. Sound and light bit at his ears and eyes, though it was nothing compared to the fury echoing outside. Mark squeezed again, three more times, until the mass that had been moving in his direction stopped and fell to the floor with a groan and a garbled cry for help. He stared at the body, the pistol wavering slightly in his grip as he kept it trained on the man’s still-warm corpse.

“Mark!” The first voice came again, breaking him out of his trance. He turned and saw his mother, sister and brother staring at him. Tina was the first to speak, though, hissing at him as she gestured wildly.

“Get over here, boy! Give me those bolt cutters!”

Mark obliged, putting the man behind him out of his mind. He raced for his family, dropping the cutters in front of Tina before wrapping his arms around Dianne. Tears flowed freely as he held her tight and he began to sob. Jacob and Josie embraced him and Dianne as well, crying not because they were frightened but because he was crying.

“Are you okay?!” Dianne whispered in his ear, feeling him top to bottom as she continued holding him tight to her chest.

“I’m fine,” he wheezed, taking a step back and wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Mr. Statler’s outside, though. We need to help him.”

The sharp snap of metal attracted Dianne’s attention, and she looked down to see Sarah pulling the shackles off of her and her children’s legs. “Then let’s get going, shall we?”

After a brief argument over who should wield Mark’s pistol, Tina threw her hands in the air and hurried over to the man who was still lying motionless on the ground by the front door t

o the community center. She rolled him over with a grunt, taking a step back to avoid the rapidly enlarging puddle of blood, then plucked his rifle off the ground and dug two spare blood-covered magazines from his vest pockets. “Now,” she intoned as she popped out the mag, checked it, then slammed it back home, “I’m leading the way out. Got it?” Another burst of gunfire from out front prevented any further arguments and she slipped up to the front door, putting her head against the wood to try and figure out what was going on.

***

Outside, in the two and a half minutes it took for Mark to get in, reunite with his family and for everyone to be freed by Tina and Sarah, Jason kept still behind the trailer. Occasionally he peeked out and caught a glimpse of movement behind the sedan which he fired upon, but each time his fire was met with the sound of metal and glass being torn apart instead of flesh and bone.

“Just give up!” He called out, not realizing how out of breath he was until he had to speak. “Your men are dead!

From behind the sedan, Nealson curled his lip in anger. He didn’t bother responding, not wanting to give away the fact that he was slowly making his way to the back of the vehicle where, if he was lucky, he’d be able to move around to the side and get a view on whoever it was that had so thoroughly managed to kill six of his accomplices.

With the gunfire from Jason making so much noise, Nealson hadn’t noticed the pistol going off inside the community center so the sound of the front door creaking open made his heart jump with excitement. He had forgotten about Reggie, whom he had left inside to guard the remaining prisoners. He rotated around, getting ready to both instruct and chastise Reggie about not coming out sooner when he saw a small, thin form instead of the large and imposing one he had expected.

It took Nealson a few seconds to register that the person was standing in the doorway was the old woman whose husband his men had killed and who had escaped from the gas station. As soon as he realized who she was, though, he knew that things inside must have gone poorly for Reggie. If the old woman was free, that meant the others were likely free as well. Which meant that—until the other scavenging group returned—he was alone and sorely outnumbered. He needed a distraction, something that would enable him to escape before one of the prisoners or the new arrival managed to get the upper hand.

The flash of metal in the woman’s hand sealed Nealson’s decision and her fate. He raised his revolver, taking careful aim at her chest, and fired a single shot. The barrel belched fire, sending the hollow-point .357 round across the short distance in the blink of an eye. Expanding and tumbling as it encountered resistance, the round tore through skin, muscle, flesh and organs as it veered off course, rolling to the side and finally stopping as it lodged into bone.

Tina shrieked as she collapsed to the ground. While the others rushed to her aid, Mark scooped up her rifle and joined Jason in firing upon Nealson, but the distraction offered to him lasted just long enough for him to jump into the sedan, start it up and peel out of the parking area in front of the community center. The vehicle lurched as it thumped over the bags of sand and dirt on the perimeter, gunfire trailing after it as Tina continued to cry out in pain.

Chapter 18

Mount Yamantau

“Doctor Yermakov here to see you, sir.”

“Send him in.”

The voice matches the darkened lighting of the room, carrying a distinct tone of malice even in the simplest of expressions. A young man enters, a wool cap wrung between his hands, and he immediately begins speaking.

“Mr. President, I don’t know what this is about but I can assure you that I did—”

“Dr. Yermakov.” The voice cuts through the man’s rambling. “Please. Have a seat.”

“Yes, sir.” It takes the man a moment to make his way through the room before hesitantly lowering himself into the cushioned chair across from a man he never imagined he would meet.

“You have received information about this mission, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. What I am about to tell you is supplemental to what you have already learned. It is to remain between you and I, and no one else. Not your co-workers, your friends, your family or even God himself is to know this information.”

“Yes… sir.”