Chapter 33 Zero
ZERO
Jerry meets us by the shelter, his car parked in the lot outside.
He gestures at the dark facade. "I… I think I heard gunshots earlier and drove over to the diner to wait.
" His face crumples a little before he pulls himself together again. “It’s been quiet since. I hear the dogs sometimes but nothing else.”
"Shit." Beast looks ready to charge in through the fucking window. “You wanna get out of here? If there's someone here still, shit might get ugly. Sandra said you got someone you love at home. Better go be safe. I bet he's already worried fucking sick."
I don't know if it makes Jerry brave or stupid, but he shakes his head. "Nah. Sandra's been my friend for a long time and we went through some real rough patches together. If there's any way I can help, I need to be here to do it."
“Okay, your choice," Piston rumbles.
Beast loosens the gun in his belt. "Good to go."
I shake my head. "You guys check the front, I want to swing around back and check the situation without alerting them. I trust you guys to take on a fucking army, but when it comes to sneakiness, I've got the experience."
They nod, not thrilled about it, but we all know it's true.
My special training isn't something I really like drawing on anymore, but that doesn't mean I don't still know how to move and kill without being seen.
And if these fuckers are threatening Sandra, there's gonna be fucking killing, I can promise that much.
"Someone's watching," Piston says quietly. "I’d bet my life on it. They lured her here for a reason and it’s probably us."
"Even more reason to split up. I'm gonna pretend to leave. You guys look busy with phone calls or figuring something out." They both nod, barely perceptible.
I fire up my bike, wave like I'm leaving and pull out. There's enough traffic still that hopefully the sound of my bike gets lost fast, especially since I'm rolling out slow and easy. As soon as I think it's safe, I park the bike and make my way back on foot, sticking to alleys and the shadows.
I come out behind the shelter, where there's a little bit of park between the blocks on one side, and apartments on the other, only a few feet away from the tall wire fence around the exercise yard.
I hope they like dogs over there. That's gotta get fucking loud when the dogs are getting air.
But I'm not looking for dogs right now. Instead I search the rooftops, the shadows between the trees, on top of the power station at the edge of the park, anywhere someone might have a good vantage point to see someone entering.
Something moves between the trees.
Jackpot.
I slip from shadow to shadow, getting myself closer. Quiet as death. As I come around behind him, I see the light of a small screen, and in his hand is something that looks like a handle with an antenna.
Motherfucker. It's a detonator. Been a while since I saw one of those, but last time I just barely avoided getting blasted to pieces to be scattered across the desert. Far away and a long time ago, but that's not something you forget. They're planning to fucking blow up the whole shelter.
I slip closer, a ghost in the darkness. He's so absorbed in the screen that he doesn't even look around. Fucking amateur.
Like a predator out of the night, I cover his mouth and cut off his air. My other arm locks around his throat, pulling him in close as I wrench his neck until I hear a sickening snap. I let his limp body drop, grimacing at the nasty memories it brings back.
I pick up his phone. Camera views are tiled across the screen, at least one in every room at the shelter.
This guy was waiting for us. Thermal outlines show where the dogs are, and one pointing outside gives me good outlines of Beast, Piston and Jerry.
They’re playing their roles, acting like they’re arguing. So far, everything’s going as expected.
Other than the thick arm that encircles my neck and yanks me back.
Driving my elbow backwards, I connect with his side.
A choked grunt of pain sounds as he takes a step back and lets go of my neck.
Spin, reach, bury my fingers in his hair and with a good yank, I force his face downwards while I kick my knee upwards.
The crunch as it connects with his nose feels like success.
When I let go, he tumbles to the ground and lies still. A quick search reveals nothing useful.
I stick to the shadows a little longer, just in case, but it feels deserted.
The tall fence around the exercise yard isn’t enough to keep me out. I crack the unlocked backdoor carefully, expecting all kinds of potential trouble, but all I get is panting and quiet whines. The dogs sound nervous.
And then, just barely audible, a muffled voice. I wait, giving it a moment, and there it is again. Grunts. Like someone struggling. Gagged? The sounds are too deep to be Sandra, but someone's in there.
I risk pushing the door further, half expecting the whole place to blow up.
When nothing happens, I slip inside, silent as the grave.
First thing I notice is a gray block of plastic explosive pressed into where the wall meets the floor.
Good news is that it's stable stuff, and I have the detonator.
The bad news is that there are more blocks after that one.
They were fucking ready to launch this shelter to the moon.
That can be cleaned up later.
As my eyes adjust, I find the dogs crammed into cages. Crowded but fine. They watch me curiously, but when I move past they settle. Instead I follow the muffled sounds.
Fuck.
It’s Carl. Strapped to a chair, using dog leads for rope.
Big strip of duct tape over his mouth and two smaller strips covering his eyes.
There’s even a block of C4 molded to the seat right in front of the poor kid's crotch. If we’d let those guys catch us coming in, Carl would’ve been in so many little pieces.
Blinded, Carl only knows that someone’s moving around him, and his breathing goes hyperactive immediately.
"Easy, Carl. I'm a friend." I start by peeling off the tape over his eyes. The stare behind them is wild, and he doesn't look real good. "If I take the tape off your mouth, can you be quiet? We're gonna get you out of here."
For a moment longer, I'm not sure if I'm getting through to him, but then he nods. A soft mumble, and another nod.
"Good boy. Okay, this is gonna sting a little." I grip the edge of the tape and rip it off in one quick motion.
"Ow! Shit." He twitches like he wants to put a hand to his mouth, but he can't until I untie him.
"Easy. That was the rough bit." Not counting the fact that he's sitting on a chair packed with explosives. While I loosen the leads, I keep him engaged with questions. "You alright? Hurt anywhere?"
"No. I don't—I don't think so." He shakes his head, then swallows. "Jesus, they shot Travis in the face." He nods his head backwards and to the side, showing me the body.
Fuck, that's a shame. I would’ve made it more painful.
The last leash falls to the floor. "Alright, let's get you outta here. Don't look back, okay? We're just gonna walk through the next room and out the front door. Cool?"
He nods eagerly, not looking any more interested in looking behind him than I'm interested in him seeing it. Fuck, this kid's gonna need a shrink after this. His legs wobble as he gets up, but I keep him steady.
"You're gonna be okay. Is Sandra here?"
"No—no, they took her. In case you didn't take the bait, they didn't—fuck—they didn't want to lose their leverage.
I don't know where they took her, though.
They just decided that they didn't need me and figured the place was going to blow up anyway.
At least from what I overheard." He's starting to ramble a little.
"Oh God, they took her, and—Wait! There was another guy. Travis shot him I think."
“Shit. Where?”
Carl points to one of the kennels where the door is partly open. “There.”
“Okay, buddy. I’m going to go look. Just focus on breathing.” I’m imagining the worst, and I find it.
Spike is on the ground face down in a pool of his own blood. It looks like he got shot somewhere high in his shoulder or neck. In the right spot it’s easy to recover, half an inch in either direction though…
I put my hand on Spike’s neck looking for a pulse.
He makes a weak, pained noise at my touch and a little bit of anxiety unspools.
“Hey. Shitty day so far isn’t it? But you’re not dead yet, so things might still look up.
” He either laughs, or is choking on his own blood.
Could be both. “I’m gonna have to pick you up, man.
Sorry if it hurts like a bitch but the whole place is rigged with C4 and that’s harder to heal than a bullet wound. ”
There’s no response this time, but I can still feel his pulse so the kid’s got a chance. As carefully as I can, I swing him into a fireman’s carry and get back to Carl.
“Is he…?”
“Still breathing. For the moment at least. But you’re going to have to walk out on your own two feet. You good?”
Carl nods.
Together we reach the front door. I push it open and immediately Beast and Piston spin to face us, ready to draw.
"Just me," I call out. "I’ve got Carl and Spike.
The whole shelter is rigged with C4, but I got the detonator.
Couple bodies in the back, two goons behind the shelter and Travis inside. They got Sandra."
Beast nods. "C4, huh? Not fucking around. Do we know who it is?"
I help Spike lean against the side of Jerry's car, but I’m asking Carl. "Did you hear anything?"
"I don't know. They said something about you guys killing some guy named Zeke and that they were after revenge." He closes his eyes and slides down the side of the car until he's crouched against it. "Jesus," he whimpers. "Jesus fucking Christ."
Poor kid. This isn't his scene. Shouldn't be anyone's scene.
I look at the others. "The Bloodmoney boys then.
Fuck, we should've iced the whole bunch of them, instead of stopping with Zeke.
Now at least one more of them is dead, and on the bright side they did us a favor and made a fucking mess of Travis's head. "
Piston points at the road. "Well, we got a clue as to where to go. Someone was parked here with an oil leak and the drops go that way. No idea if it's gonna be enough to catch up to them, but they hang out here in the Ditch. As long as they haven't gone too far, we might have a chance."
“I might be able to do one better. I enabled location sharing on her phone the other night." I turn to Jerry. “Alright. It’s your time to shine. I’ve got one shell-shocked college student and a biker who may or may not bleed out before you can get him back to the compound. I’m going to call ahead so there’s someone waiting to take him.
Just bring both of them to the compound and they’ll get taken care of.
Jerry nods. "Sure. Of course. How you doing, Carl? Let’s get everyone in the car and then you can tell me all about whatever it is you study. Sandy mentioned you’re really passionate about it." He pats Carl gently on the shoulder.
They pull out a minute later.
I check my map. Sure enough, there’s a dot for Sandra and it’s not that far. “Gotcha.”