Chapter 18
MIKEY
The sun had not yet risen. A chill of cold swept down my spine as Scottie waited, seated beside me. Both of us prepared to ambush, the buggy backed between several boulders in this unusually deep ravine. A single winding, make-shift road cleaved into this pass, meaning only one way out with the buggies. A real possibility that only one of the two would make it out of this canyon weighed heavily in the air.
“Scotch,” I whispered to her. She leaned closer, keeping the barrel of her rifle trained on our ambush point. “You sure you don’t want to go up the opposite side of the canyon now? Hole up and wait?”
“Not until you’ve been able to reach the cab of the weapons truck,” she replied in hushed tones and then swung a brief accusatory glare my way. “Do you not trust me, or something?”
Trust was not what had me concerned.
I worried for her. She was more exposed, easily caught and identified if she stayed down here with me. I worried I wouldn’t be able to entirely focus on doing what was necessary if she was in danger.
“I just wanted to double check,” I replied, not voicing all of my real concerns.
“Then shut up and let me do my job, Blondie.” Instead of backing away, she bumped up against my left shoulder, playfully.
And stayed there.
For only a few seconds, but it was enough.
“The moment I’m in—”
“I’ll disappear. And in case you’re wondering, that’s something I’m really good at. One of my highest scores,” she finished, offering me reassurance. Knotting my jaw, I nodded once and tightened my grip on the buggy’s wheel.
Ford waited behind us, posted at the gatling gun so the moment we barricaded them in from behind, he could use it against their mounted weapon, hopefully providing us with enough cover so Scottie and I could make it to our target.
My belly swam as the squad we accompanied scattered amongst the rocks bordering the wall. In position, just as the other half of my team was. Everything was ready to go.
And a faint rumble vibrated beneath the floorboards of the buggy.
The first sign that our targets were approaching drove adrenaline thick through my veins. Every sense of mine woke with a start, lapping up the drug I craved.
“Hey, Blondie?” Scottie’s quiet voice, muffled even more by the balaclava over her face, slipped through the distant drums.
“Hmm?” I stared at the corner of the pass that the convoy was approaching from.
“Gonna bite another ear off?” she asked, through the radio this time.
My eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets as I whipped my head toward her. She briefly pulled down her mask and grinned, then covered her mouth back up. She’d said that on purpose, and it wasn’t just to our team, but to the squad as well.
“Who’s biting an ear off?” a random soldier responded.
“Another fucking ear?” someone else asked through the comms. “As in, someone’s done it more than once?”
“Ten bucks says he bites something else this time,” Bernie’s familiar voice answered, egging it on. What I’d give to see his face right now.
“I say twenty for a nose?” Duncan replied.
“Someone tell me who the hell is biting shit off people?!” another soldier’s voice butted in, and I chuckled to myself.
“I’ve got twenty on someone’s fingers,” Ford growled lowly over the comms.
“You fuckers realize that I’m going to do my damnedest to not bite any of that shit,” I replied with a chuckle. “Because I can’t let you shitheads win a bet.”
“Well, that’s fucking dumb. The colonel already asked me if you’re gonna do something unhinged like that again,” Dom answered.
“WHO!? Someone tell me who the fuck is biting people!” one of the soldiers from the squad inserted himself into the conversation again.
Scottie glanced at me briefly and rolled her eyes. But there was a twinkle behind her safety glasses, reflecting her pride in starting this conversation.
“I never said I wasn’t going to not bite someone; I just said I wasn’t going to go for the nose or fingers,” I replied with a grin.
She shook her head and returned to staring down her scope as the rumble drew nearer and nearer. “How about ripping someone’s throat out again?” she radioed. She had to be smiling behind the metal of her rifle.
“IF SOMEONE DOESN’T TELL ME WHO THE FUCK LIKES TO RIP THROATS OUT AND BITE PEOPLE, I WILL GO INSANE!” the same soldier curious from the beginning asked again.
“Everyone quiet! I can hear the engines of the convoy,” Dom instructed, leaving the soldier’s question unanswered. I could only imagine the horrified looks on the other soldiers’ faces, wondering what kind of psychopath did that. But everything out here was kill or be killed, and I wasn’t going to ever go down without trying everything in my power to do the killing before the other guy could get to me first.
Small pebbles around the buggy began to vibrate with the encroaching convoy. Engines filled the peaceful night air, sending the critters of the dark scurrying into crevices of protection.
Time to let the devil out to play.
Blood pumping from my heart pounded heavily in my ear as tires crunching over the canyon floor bounced through the atmosphere. They were close, so close.
And then the first glint of metal rounding a corner met my sights. Another off-road ATV similar to the dune buggy that I sat in led the convoy. Gatling gun and everything, mounted on the A-frame metal poles.
Sucking in some breath, I swallowed stiffly. They were chugging closer and closer, each spin of the tires on the first ATV drawing the entire four-vehicle convoy toward its death. Once the front dune buggy had rounded the corner, an enclosed, plain looking jeep followed behind. It supposedly carried the bomb and, as a result, was Bernie’s target.
My target followed next. Grungy and rusting at the wheel frames, the truck with a canvas stretched over the bed as a replacement to a metal shell, looked as if it came out of WWII. Tan colored and rattling so slowly, the heat from the engine working as hard as it could sweltered against the finally rising sun.
And lastly, bringing up the rear of the convoy was another sand rail. With the interior exposed between a simple roll cage, it revealed the five assailants toting along. One man stood behind the gatling gun, poised and ready for a fight. Tan clothes covered in sand and sticky sweat masked all of them. Every single combatant I could make out looked the same, so where our bogey was, I had yet to discover.
Scottie’s finger shifted on her gun, slipping over the safety as she quietly flicked it off. The buggy rocked with very slight movement from Ford shifting into position to brace against the force that would come the moment we shot out of our fortified position.
Sliding a hand down to the key, I paused, waiting for the vibrations of the convoy to hide any indication that another engine had joined the masses. Then, the moment the ancient truck carting weapons was directly in front of us, I turned the engine over.
The buggy roared to life. Keeping the brake and clutch pedals down to the floor, my right hand slid to the gear shift and hovered.
Three.
The rear bumper of the truck was directly in front of me.
Two.
The nose of the buggy now drove into our direct line of sight.
One.
Shoving the stick into gear, I gunned the sand rail, revving the RPMs to the sweet point, and released the clutch. Bolting out of our hidden post, gunfire cracked through the air—the whir of the gatling gun mounted directly behind us—snapping around the ravine.
As if the dune walls had come to life, the squad of soldiers darted out from the shadows. Brakes screeched, our enemy lurching to a halt with no way forward. Roaring around the back of the convoy, bullets peppered into part of the metal rod. Shifting into the next gear, I spun the wheel, whipping the buggy so the passenger side faced the gatling gun returning fire.
Scottie squeezed her trigger, and a swell of pride and wicked desire snapped through me as the gatling gun fell still and the combatant slumped over—the hole in his head searing red and visible from here.
Fuck, that was hot.
Shifting down, we drifted back around, spraying dust on the two other assailants who jumped out from the back of the buggy. The soldiers immediately swarmed them, one of whom I recognized was Reyes.
Then in a flurry of movements, one insurgent’s cloth slipped off of his nose and I recognized the thick beard. Our bogey. Scottie shared a quick glance with me as I slammed on the brakes and clutch, spinning us straight. Ford must have noticed too as he reached down and tapped my right shoulder twice.
Slamming the sand rail back into gear, my foot rammed onto the gas pedal as we spun to the far side of the convoy, where our secret target was engaged in some hand-to-hand combat with one of our soldiers—and winning.
The gatling gun whirred, Ford peppering the canyon wall just above both of their heads. Both our bogey and the soldier slammed to the dune floor, rolling in opposite directions.
And just as we careened up to them, sand sprayed up behind the wheels of the enemy’s final buggy. The dead body crashed out the back.
“Go!” Ford shouted as my feet found both the clutch and brakes. As I drifted the back end around, he jumped from the sand rail. “I’ll take care of the truck! You can’t let them get away!” he radioed over comms. “This will go from a missing convoy that they have to come find to—”
“To a revenge fight,” I finished for him, and the dune buggy shot through a gap between Reyes and another soldier. A gap that wasn’t supposed to be there.
“Out, Crow!” I shouted, revving the engine, ready to barrel after them.
“I’m coming with you. Go!” she demanded. A groan rumbled from my chest, but there was no time to argue.
Gripping the gear stick and steering column tightly, my feet rammed the gas to the floor and the buggy shot off. Spinning with my palm, I shot us through the gap still left by Reyes and the other soldier and squeezed against the edge of the canyon.
Up ahead, just disappearing around a corner, was the quickly fading escaping ATV.
“Phoenix, Crow and I are in pursuit! Over,” I radioed over the comms, spitting sand beneath the tires as I shifted, gunning the buggy even faster.
“Copy, Viper, don’t let them get away. Over,” Dom responded.
“I’ve got the weapons truck,” Ford grunted, clearly engaged in something. “Bogey,” he added, and if I hadn’t been actively involved in the conversation, I would’ve likely missed it.
Scottie’s hand latching onto the frame beside her, bracing, as I tore the buggy around the corner snapped me back to our present pursuit. Shifting once more, I slammed the stick into the highest gear and gunned it. A straight path cut through the dunes. The canyon walls were high, the sun glaringly blocked. But it was no deterrent to me, and I pressed the pedal to the floor.
Metal against metal, hot beneath my boot, we screamed like a missile, closing the gap between the fleeing buggy and ours. Scottie’s fingers tightened around the frame. A sharp right rapidly burst into view. The enemy ATV sailed around the corner, slowing so as to not skid into the wall.
Turning sharply right as I shifted down, I spun the wheel left. The tires drifted down the middle of the ravine. Gracefully guiding the buggy out of the turn, I straightened us and shifted again. My muscles pumped, working effortlessly to tighten the space between us and the fleeing vehicle. Corner and corner again, I drifted the ATV around flawlessly.
Wind rushed against my cheeks, the distance between the canyon walls growing. As the path widened, an idea popped into my head. “Hold on, Scotch,” I shouted to my passenger.
“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing?!” she screeched in response, and I chuckled, skidding the buggy around a corner. And the ravine opened up into a wide, dead-end cavern. It was now or never.
“MIKEY!” she screamed, as instead of slowing down like I should have, I gunned it.
Tightening my grip on the wheel, I braced and clipped the rear bumper of the enemy’s buggy with the nose of ours. A grunt escaped my chest upon impact. They spun away like a top, until a tire caught the side of a boulder. Metal slammed against rock, splintering both solid surfaces as the sand rail flipped over.
The moment our buggy was clear of the totaled death trap, I locked in the clutch and brakes. Rising in front of us, the end of the canyon wall nearly swallowed us whole. I barely managed to whip the buggy into a turn before we, too, slammed into the sheer rock face.
Shifting, I drifted the buggy in a 180. My eye caught sight of the enemy’s ATV coming to a halt.
And a combatant stumbled out, shouldering a fucking rocket launcher.
Scottie.
Without thinking, I let go of the steering column and launched myself toward her. My arms snaked around her body, tackling into her as the familiar crack and whoosh of the weapon being fired exploded into the air.
As if the world slowed, her eyes widened upon recognition. She ducked her head into my shoulder. While cocooning her into my body, we flew out of the passenger side.
Blunt force ripped through my spine as my back collided first with the ground.
Oxygen snapped from my lungs. Rocks bit into my arms through my shirt. Skidding across sand that crawled into every crack in my uniform, I latched onto Scottie tighter. And rolled sideways as a boom thundered through the atmosphere.
Ringing from the explosion dampened all other sounds. Heat engulfed my body as flames erupted from the totaled dune buggy. Metal shards shattered around me, and pain, as hot as red iron against skin, seared through my left thigh. Digging my fingers into Scottie’s body, I held tighter as we slammed away from the explosion.
Hands snapped around my shoulders. Instinctively, I released Scottie from my arms, as the enemy raised my upper body from the ground. And a fist met my jaw, slamming me back against the dune floor.
The world spun; black and white stars danced in front of a hazy vision. My arms refused to cooperate. The adrenaline that normally roared through me like a monster created for death himself, seemed absent as everything spun.
Another blow rocketed through me, cracking the back of my head against the stone ground. Through the sludge that curdled around me, a hazy figure straddled me. Blood dripped from wounds upon this strange creature’s face.
And then a crack snapped through the ringing in my ears. The man ready to throw a third punch collapsed on top of me.
Dead.
Sand swirled around me. The grim reaper’s scythe wrapped around the assailant’s soul and stole him away. Red iron dripped from the hole in his head, plunking warm against my cheek.
“Mikey!” someone shouted, muffled behind the swaying of the ravine that death would meet me in. A voice that usually sounded like smooth whiskey on a porch in the middle of summer didn’t now. Now, it met my ears stretched and ragged. Pleading. A note I’d never heard from it before.
“Mikey!” the woman shouted again, desperation coating her hoarse tongue. “Blondie!”
I knew her…
As if my body was a puppet on strings, I rose like the death that consumed my every thought.
My soul blackened with the desire to do what the enemy had failed to deliver. The world spun around me, swaying beneath my unsteady feet. Squinting, all befuddlement zapped away as I sighted Scottie, pinned to the ground mere feet away beneath a man larger than even myself. He tightened his fingers around her neck, the blood draining from her face as she kicked and squirmed with no effect.
“Get your fucking hands off of her,” I snarled.
Startled by my voice, he briefly snapped his gaze toward me.
I slipped a knife from its sheath at my waist and hurled it through the air.
With a thwunk, it lodged right below his Adam’s apple, into his jugular notch. His eyes widened. A wet cough vibrated from his chest. He ripped his hands from Scottie’s neck, immediately reaching for my weapon caught in his throat.
But I was faster. As I lunged at him, my palm wrapped around the hilt and I twisted. Gurgling, he crashed backwards, landing on his back with me on top. Ripping the weapon out of his throat, there was no hesitation in my movement as I plunged the blade into his eye. Blood spurted from his open wound.
“How dare you…” I hissed, tearing the knife out again and stabbing it through the side of his neck. He clawed at my vest, squirming beneath me as life ebbed from his one untouched eye. “...put your fucking hands…” Ripping it out, I shoved it into his neck again. I wanted him to see who delivered his final blow. “...on her, you piece of shit.” My chest heaved. My fingers twisted the knife, ignoring the wet slithering of blood that flowed like a river from his open wounds.
And his gaze turned hollow. But that didn’t stop me from jerking the knife out and ramming it into the other side of his neck.
He stopped squirming beneath me. Arms that once attempted to rip me from his body flopped lifeless to the sand beside me. Twisting the hilt, the blade squelched through the skin and then I tore it from his neck. One last shudder and the warm body pinned beneath me stilled, turning to a corpse.
I drove the knife back into his throat one more time for good measure.
“Mikey?” a faint voice whispered.
As if a glow pierced through the haze, all the death that curled so deeply within my soul slithered back to the deepest depths.
Exhaustion crumpled me, and I caught my slump with my hands braced against the chest of the dead body below me. The haze in my head, the aggression fueling my fingers, cleared. And like a freight train loose from the tracks, the reality of my actions slammed into me.
Whatever strange friendship Scottie and I’d begun developing had blown up the moment I unleashed the fury I kept so tightly under lock and key. Gulping down rapid swallows of air, I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to look at her. I couldn’t look at her. I knew what would be in Scottie’s gaze. She would have that look in her eye confirming what I already knew—I was nothing but a monster, undeserving of something I so craved.
She would leave me the moment she could, as everyone else always did.