Chapter 15 #2
Zain didn’t wait for the ensuing gunfight, just hit the gas — got that RV surging forward. He angled left, headed for a break in the trees — what looked like an adjoining road at the bottom of a bumpy incline.
Buck inhaled, grabbing the top of the half-wall leading to the steps. “Are you insane? This thing…”
His voice keened into a curse as Zain hit the edge of the forest and just kept going. The RV bounced off a few rocks, plowing through some dead branches and underbrush as automatic fire erupted behind them, a few punching through the glass — impacting one of the walls with a dull thud.
Zain glanced back, gave Greer and Saylor a quick once-over, then focused on the path.
Branches scraped across the top and sides, the eerie screech sending shivers down his spine.
A deer appeared on the trail up ahead, barely leaping out of the way before the RV bounced over a log, dropping a couple feet down the other side.
The bottom scraped along the rocks and dirt, groans and creaks sounding through the interior.
Not as bad as the haunting noises from the hull of the Nexus , but close.
The vehicle hit the gravel road trailing branches and vines — mud spraying out both sides as he swerved it onto the two-track, the backend fishtailing a few times before finally straightening out.
Saylor moved in beside him, hair spilling out of her ponytail. “You’re insane. Unfortunately, our friends are, too. Two followed you down, and I doubt we’ll outrun them in this hunk of junk.”
Buck grunted. “No need to badmouth my home.”
Zain glared at Buck, skidding around a massive pothole. “Buck? You seem like the kind of guy who’d be prepared for a small invasion. Any chance you’ve got some weapons stashed away?”
Buck eyed Greer. “I’m required to register any firearms?—”
“We don’t care if they’re legal or not. Just that you’ve got more than tin foil for us to toss at them.”
Buck pursed his lips, looking as if he was considering how much to tell them, before he nodded toward the rear. “There’s a trunk under the bed in the back.”
“Exactly what I wanted to hear.” Zain motioned to the driver’s seat. “Sweetheart, take the wheel.”
Saylor’s eyes widened. “I’ve never driven?—”
“After the way you handled your Zodiac in that storm, this is child’s play. Just keep it between the ditches.”
He slipped out once she had her hands on the steering wheel.
The RV lurched, quickly bleeding off speed, until Saylor settled behind the wheel and hit the gas.
Zain tripped at the sudden acceleration, smiling at how natural she looked behind the wheel, gaze constantly scanning between the mirrors and the road.
He bolted for the back and dragged a massive trunk out from beneath the bed .
Greer whistled when Zain flipped it open. “Jesus, Bucky, is there anything you don’t have in here?”
Buck chuckled. “Still looking for one of those rocket launchers, but other than that…”
Zain lifted one of the rifles, checked the sights and barrel, then grabbed a few boxes of ammo. “Buck, are these smoke or frag grenades?”
“Smoke… I think. Like I said. I’m not trying to hurt people, just watching out for myself.”
“Your arsenal suggests differently.” Zain scanned the roof. “I’ll crawl out of the overhead vent. Try to slow down our friends.”
Greer frowned. “Zain.”
“I know. You’re the law, and you’re one hell of a shot…”
“But I’m not a former Army Ranger sniper.” She tapped her radio. “I’m not sure if anyone heard my call. All I got was static, and there’s no cell service until we get closer to town. I’ll keep trying.”
“For all we know, they’ve got one of those drones cruising overhead, jamming any signals.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Shout if anything changes.”
Zain glanced at Saylor, smiling at her in the rearview — praying this wasn’t the last time he’d see those gorgeous blue eyes — then slung the rifle over his shoulder.
A hard thrust with the end of a broom, and the vent popped off, fluttering onto the dirt behind them.
A jump and a reach, and he had his fingers curled around the edge — pulled himself up and through the opening.
Strong gusts blew dirt and pine needles across his face, the constant rocking nearly knocking him onto his ass.
He settled in beside the communications array, his foot braced against the air conditioner.
Two trucks bounced along the trail behind them, keeping far enough back the constant spray of mud and stones didn’t blind them.
But Zain knew it was only a matter of time before they either made a move and tried to run them into a ditch or opened fire in an attempt to blow out their tires.
Not on his watch.
He took a breath, then peered through the scope. Tinted windows. He couldn’t tell if it was thicker than normal — might be bullet resistant — not that it mattered. Enough hits in the same square inch would eventually leave a mark.
Getting tossed into the array a moment later as Saylor skidded the RV around a tight turn, taking some branching path to the left, didn’t instill any confidence he’d be able to get off any quality shots.
Especially when the damn vehicle bounced through a series of potholes before sliding sideways as it hit some washboard, the series of bumps rattling his teeth and knocking one of the transmitters off the array.
He tossed the unit aside, settling in, again, as he lined up his first target.
The rifle recoiled against his shoulder as he squeezed the trigger, punching a hole through the leading truck’s windshield.
The truck veered sharply to the side, driving off the road and into the brush and debris piled on the edges.
It bounced along, looking as if it might tip before the driver swerved in behind the other, kicking gravel into the air .
Zain chambered another round, landing his next shot firmly in the grill. The truck chugged, smoke pouring out of the hood before it pulled to the side, the other vehicle quickly taking its place.
The second hit obviously motivated whoever was driving the lead truck, that same hulking asshole from the first night lowering the window, then leaning out the side. He didn’t even aim, just started spraying the rear end with an entire mag until the thing just clicked.
The RV jerked, a whop-whop-whop sounding around them as the whole unit shimmied right.
Rubber shot out the side, a few pieces kicking up onto the roof, blocking Zain’s view before they finally flew off the other side.
Saylor held on, riding that ditch line for several seconds before she veered the motorhome back to the center.
Slower than before, with the rig shaking left and right, but at least they were still moving.
Zain cycled another bullet, missing off to the side when the RV fishtailed left onto another service road, this one far rougher than the last, with dips and grooves that rolled him against the edge, then back into the array.
He finally managed to wedge his foot against the side, got the rifle into position.
He waited, stock pressed against his shoulder, scope centered on the truck until that asshole slipped out again.
A breath, an exhale, then that shot clipping the creep right in the shoulder.
Knocking the weapon out of his hand. He flailed against the window frame, face twisted in pain before someone pulled him inside.
Zain didn’t waste another moment, just cycled the round and fired.
Punched another hole in the windshield. Likely hit the driver as the vehicle swerved sharply to the left, bounced down the side, hitting a large boulder before flipping up and over.
It landed on the roof several feet off the road, black tires turning uselessly against the gray sky.
A horn blared in the distance, the sound fading as the RV raced along the gravel, an eerie calm settling around them.
Zain scanned the road, searching for that other truck when Saylor yelled something from inside, the words muffled beneath the crunching gravel and roaring wind.
He slid toward the vent, slipped through and landed on the floor.
Greer yanked him up and gave him a shove, pushing him halfway toward the front.
Saylor glanced at him when he moved in beside her, fingers white-knuckled around the wheel. “We’ve lost our brakes and there’s nowhere else to go but down this hill.”
Zain stared at the road. At the cliff looming in the distance. How the trail turned sharply to the left a few hundred yards down. “Just try to keep us in the middle until you get close, then veer right and do what you can to reduce the angle. With any luck this track levels out… Shit.”
That third truck.
Skidding around the bend. Racing toward them. No way for them to swerve around it with logs and boulders scattered on each side of the road. The damage to the motorhome already making every response sluggish.
Zain reached behind her — clipped in her seatbelt. “ Aim for the flatbed and pray this whole rig doesn’t simply disintegrate.”
Saylor’s skin blanched. “And the cliff?”
“If we live through the collision? Same plan.” He turned. “Greer, buckle in. And if we end up going over…”
She merely nodded, clipping in Bucky, then claiming the seat next to him.
Zain grabbed the garbage can and launched it through the windshield.
Glass shot out the front, that bin rolling off the hood and under the vehicle.
The RV bounced over it, skidding it right before Saylor got it under control.
He knocked away the remaining pieces, shouldering the rifle, again. “This is gonna be loud.”
He fired, trying to cripple the truck before they hit.
His version of that game of chicken they’d played in the Zodiac.
He hit the windshield and the grill, but the truck kept coming as some asshole returned fire, punching holes in the front end.
Smoke poured up from the hood, the engine making an eerie whining noise, but the motorhome kept rolling, the sheer momentum carrying them along.
The driver must have realized they weren’t slowing down, veering right at the last moment.
The RV struck the flatbed, crushing in the entire right side as the truck spun out — tumbled down the ditch.
Saylor tried to stabilize everything, but the impact rocked the vehicle to the left, tipping it onto two wheels as it neared the edge, nothing but a few pieces of metal railing blocking the way.
They hit the far-left edge, flipping onto the side as it continued over the embankment.
Branches clawed at the metal panels, sending the vehicle slightly left along a flatter section.
Buck shouted in the background, rocks and trees grinding against the siding before the light cut off, the hum of the engine following them into the darkness.