Chapter 37
“Everyone locked and loaded?” I eye Tessa and Molly, one on either side of me.
We look like something out of The Matrix, the scene where Neo and Trinity walk through the metal detectors, their entire bodies covered in various guns, blades, explosives, and ammunition.
I can’t even recall how many times I watched that movie with my dad, and I smile at the memory.
Each of us has at least four pistols, a semi-machine gun, a combat knife, two flashbangs, and all the necessary ammunition to participate in a shoot-out for the better part of an hour.
I also gave Tessa the one grenade my dad bought off the black market a long time ago.
“I’m not even sure if it actually works, and hopefully you don’t have to use it, but if you get in a spot where . . . ya know.”
“I know,” is all she said in response.
“I’m ready,” Molly whispers at my side.
“Let’s do this.” Tessa pats my back, giving my shoulder a small squeeze of reassurance.
“We need to go in quiet. We are severely outnumbered, and we have to assume they’re all armed and may have hostages.
First thing we do is take out anyone patrolling the area.
We don’t want any stragglers getting the drop on us from behind, and if we get made, then .
. . well, we’re gonna be in for one hell of a firefight.
” I am drawing out a map of the property in the dirt with a stick, talking through the plan one last time before we make our move.
“What about Greg?” Molly chimes in, her voice laced with concern.
“That’s next. After the approach is clear, we need to take the sniper tower back. If they have someone up there watching, we’ll never make it to the house. So, we . . .”
“You said Greg was probably fine.” Tears well up in Molly’s eyes, and her lower lip starts to quiver.
“I said if. If they have someone up there. We need to plan for everything.”
She nods and lets me get back to it.
“Okay, so then we make a break for the sniper tower and secure it. Molly, you can stay up there with Greg and provide supporting fire as needed. Tessa, you’ll come with me, and we’ll head for the main house.
Any questions?” My eyes dart back and forth, watching as both of them shake their heads. “All right, follow me, and stay low.”
The gunfire has ceased for several minutes now as we make our way back through the woods, which tells me the burners are settled in, thinking they have control of the place and everyone in it.
I poke my head out of the tree line, scanning in every direction, looking for the slightest bit of movement.
When I see none, I wave the girls on behind me, and we quickly slink along the trees, staying low to the ground as we move toward the house.
When the brush opens up, I spot the first burner, a lone man pacing back and forth, watching the north and west approaches to the house.
He has a single shotgun in his hands and holds it pointed at the ground, a relaxed grip indicating he doesn’t expect any danger.
“Stay here,” I whisper as I get into position.
I count out the number of steps he takes before he does his about-face, the same number each time and always at the same speed, like a human metronome, assigned to a single strip of earth.
When he plants his weight and pivots his foot, I follow his shirt up to where it stops, drawing an imaginary bull’s-eye on the back of his neck.
This time, I picture Nate’s smug face. I step forward, my body rustling the leaves of the bushes around me.
At the sudden sound, he stops and spins around, his eyes going wide as my figure emerges, moving toward him.
The man raises a brow and lifts his gun.
Too slow. My arm shoots out, my wrist snapping at the last second as the throwing star cuts through the air like a Frisbee, planting itself right into his Adam’s apple.
He drops the gun and his hands shoot up to his neck.
Gurgling violently, his mouth sprays red with each successive cough.
Blood pours from his throat like red wine from a bottle. I could really use a drink right now.
I sprint at him, bringing myself within a few feet before I leap into the air, my right leg lifted.
I plant the bottom of my thick-soled boot into his throat, sending the throwing star deeper and severing the spinal cord.
The force of my kick sends his body toppling over backward.
I use my knife to fish the throwing star out of his neck, prying back and turning his head into something that looks more like the lid of a can after the can opener has gone most of the way around.
I hear gagging behind me, and I turn to see Molly almost throwing up her breakfast at the sight before her.
Tessa is smiling, nodding in approval. “Bad . . . ass,” she whispers.
I smile back and motion for them to follow me again. It’s eerily quiet. If I had shown up now, I wouldn’t even have suspected anything was wrong. But the air still smells of gunpowder, smoke, and blood. The tension of fear and terror are palpable as we move in closer to our target.
The dummy house is a little more fortified, with two men standing at the visible corners of the building and another patrolling from the front to the back of the house in the same steady rhythm as the previous burner.
We duck low, backing into the woods for the cover we need to plan our next attack.
“Tessa, Molly, you need to shoot the two guys at the corners. I’ll take the one patrolling when he comes back to this side of the house.
If we time it out right, we can drop all three at the same time,” I say, directing them to each of their targets.
“But we’ll make noise,” Molly protests.
“We don’t have a choice. They have their backs to the house, and they’re not gonna turn around.”
“Unless . . .” Tessa starts rummaging around in the leaves, feeling her way with her hands before she comes up with a rock the size of a tennis ball. “We distract them.”
I collect the rock, feeling its heft. I look at the house and decide that a well-timed throw through the window could provide a brief second for an attack. “That could work. But if they don’t bite . . .”
“I know,” Tessa says, “but we have to try.”
I nod in response and get myself situated, determining the force I’ll need to use in order to hurl the stone right through the glass.
My heart rate accelerates and sweat builds on my brow.
If I screw this up, or they look for the source of the throw instead of turning to the glass, that’ll be the end of all of us.
The weight of this burden feels thousands of times heavier than the rock in my hand.
I look at both of my girls, giving them one last chance to back out, save themselves from the possibility of a swift death at the hands of some crazed lunatics.
I wouldn’t blame either of them, not in this moment, but they stare at me with a steely confidence in their eyes, gripping the handles of their knives even tighter. They’re ready.
I suck in a deep breath and tune everything out as I gaze at the reflection of the sun glinting off the glass-pane window.
I cup the rock in my hand and tell myself this is no different from my throwing stars.
Nice and easy. The brush around me rustles softly as I let the stone loose.
It arches through the air, appearing to hang above us for an eternity, the anticipation of its path keeping it from flying faster.
Then, like a marionette having its strings cut, it plummets down, smashing through the window.
Glass particles shatter into the house and tumble onto the porch.
The two burners turn to the window, just as we hoped they would, and then we run—Tessa at the man on the left and Molly the one on the right.
Midsprint, the other burner comes around the side of the house, but I’m ready, catching him in the throat at the same time that the two girls leap into the air, snatching the men from behind and plunging their knives into their soft, fleshy necks.
They sweep the blades across in a swift slash, painting the sides of the house a deep crimson.
I sigh with relief, tears nearly welling up and falling from my eyes as I look at my two girls, still safe and unharmed.
They turn to me, blood covering the blades of their knives.
Tessa is smiling, but Molly is trembling and looks like she’s just seen a ghost. The knife slips from her hand, falling into the grass.
“Molly?” I place a hand on her shoulder.
“I’ve never killed anyone,” she says, her voice shaking like she’s just come out of a cold plunge.
“Oh, I . . . uh . . .” I look to Tessa for support, but she shrugs, mouthing, I don’t know.
“If we don’t kill these guys, they’ll kill Greg.” I stare at Molly, hoping that truth breaks through the shocked state she’s in.
She lifts her head, her eyes burrowing a hole in the fabric of time and space. That was all she needed to hear. If the kill is for Greg, it’s fine, which kind of worries me a little, but we’ll deal with that later. She plucks her knife from the ground, spinning the blade between her fingers.
“Let’s go,” she says, charging in her fiancé’s direction.
Pkowwwww!
A shot rings out from the sniper tower, kicking up grass and earth as it just misses Molly’s head.
I grab a fistful of her shirt, yanking her back to the ground so fast, she loses her footing and falls right on her ass. Kicking at the grass with her heels, she tries to move for cover.
“Holy shit! Holy shit! I almost just had my head blown off!” she says, bug-eyed and all panicky.