Chapter 15 Gatling
Chapter fifteen
Gatling
“I followed Olson’s paper trail,” Credence said. His voice sounded tinny over the speaker of Crash’s phone, holding it up for us to listen. “He bought a tract of land a few months ago. Back in May. Seven acres of undeveloped forest, about twenty miles outside of town.”
I exchanged a look with Kingpin. It would be easy to disappear and live off wild land like that. Olson probably took Kelsie there.
“Is that what the building materials are for?” Kingpin asked. “Can you tell if he’s putting a house on that land?”
Credence made a noise of disagreement.
“I called the contractor Olson hired and asked some questions. According to him, he gets enough doomsday preppers to recognize them pretty quickly and Olson was a textbook example. And the doomsday preppers all want the same thing: an underground bunker.”
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, scrubbing a hand through my hair.
“Well, shit,” Blackbeard said. “That complicates things. If Olson had holed up in a house or a motel room, we could use that to our advantage. There would be multiple points of entry.”
I shook my head as my mind reeled through possibilities, spinning one strategy after another.
“A bunker typically has one entry point. You go in, lock that shit down, and you do not intend to come out for a long, long time.”
That meant we were flying blind, too. We couldn’t get eyes on Kelsie—if she was injured, if she was even alive. Olson could lash out at her over the slightest provocation. Or she could get caught in the crossfire. A bunker just made a successful infiltration and rescue ten times harder.
“Credence,” Kingpin said. “Do you have an address for Olson’s land?”
“Sending you a map now,” Credence replied. “I’ll meet you on the road.”
Everyone scattered to their bikes. I climbed into the cage, thumping my fist against the back of Big G’s seat to signal that I was ready to go.
“We need to make a pit stop at my place,” I said.
“What for?” he called back over his shoulder.
“I have to pick up some gear.”
I carried a pistol and a hunting knife at all times. But raiding a bunker with a madman trapped inside holding Kelsie hostage would require more than that.
As Big G hit the gas, I crouched in the back, weighing the best approach for this situation. I’d raided bunkers in the military dozens of times. I wasn’t worried about that.
Putting Kelsie in more danger was the tricky part. When we reached my cabin, I didn’t wait for the cage to slow down. I slid the door open and jumped out, moving as fast as my wheezing lungs would allow.
In the back of my closet, I kept a duffle bag loaded with military gear that I’d collected over the years.
Hauling the bag over my shoulder, I hustled back to the cage and hopped inside.
I didn’t know what to expect when we arrived at that bunker with Olson and Kelsie. But I had to be prepared for anything.
Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees in beams of muted gold when we reached Olson’s land. There was no driveway, no mailbox. Just tire tracks in the frozen mud, leading off into the trees.
I tapped Big G’s shoulder, signaling to park here, where it was safer. As soon as we set foot on Olson’s land, we were in enemy territory. There was a good chance he might rig traps to fend off intruders.
As I climbed out of the cage, the Blackjacks came to a rolling stop next to me, lining up along the side of the road. Credence brought up the tail end of the caravan. Our breath frosted in the air. Crows squawked overhead, and the pines whispered in a faint breeze.
It was dead quiet out here. We hadn’t passed anyone on the road for miles.
“Where do you want us?” Kingpin asked, deferring his leadership to my expertise. I would be the one taking point.
I scanned the landscape, sloping upward, studded with thick, towering evergreen trees, and rocky boulders.
Reaching into the cage, I pulled out the lock box we kept in the back for emergencies.
Inside would be spare weapons, ammunition, and walkie-talkies.
Everyone was armed already, so at least I didn’t have to worry about making sure weapons were covered.
But we didn’t have enough handheld radios to go around, unless we broke off into groups.
I tossed a handheld radio to Blackbeard.
“Spike, Tex, Blackbeard, you take the western edge of Olson’s property. Keep your eyes open for anything that seems off. We have no clue what kind of mine field we’re walking into here.”
I passed another radio to Big G.
“Baby Doll and Big G, stay here with the cage.”
She crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow.
“I can handle the action. You don’t have to tell me to wait in the car.”
“That’s why I need you here,” I countered. “You got my ass to the clubhouse when Olson took me down. If anyone is injured, you cover them. Big G will be your getaway driver.”
She nodded.
“Sounds good.”
I surveyed the remaining members, mentally assessing their strengths and weaknesses. I gave one radio to Kingpin, and the other to Vlad, designating them as leaders of their respective groups.
“Kingpin, Hot Shot, and Credence,” I said. “You three, cover the eastern edge of the property. Vlad, Credence, and Crash, you take the northern border.”
Crash pointed at himself with surprise.
“Me? I usually just keep watch."
I shrugged.
“You’ve been with us for over a year now. Don’t you want to do something more than run errands, scrub toilets, and sweep floors?”
He squared his shoulders, puffing up slightly with newfound pride.
“Hell yeah, I do.”
“Then this is your chance. And don’t let it go to your head. Some wise old man told me that we’re in this together. So don’t be an idiot like me and pull some lone wolf bullshit.”
I cast a glance at Kingpin. He dipped his head in a nod.
“Let’s see if you take your own advice.”
After everyone had trekked off to take up their positions, I tugged my duffle open and geared up.
I hadn't worn my tac vest in over fifteen years, and the weight of it felt strange, but comforting at the same time.
When I was finished, I hitched the strap of my bag over my shoulder and began hiking into the trees.
My lungs were mildly soothed by the cool, moist air, but breathing was still an agonizing experience. I couldn’t do more than a slow jog for a minute or two before I felt lightheaded, on the verge of passing out from lack of oxygen.
As I followed the tire tracks into the woods, the ratchety-clank of an old motor growled from somewhere up ahead. I dropped my bag to the ground, drew my pistol, and took aim.
One second ticked by. Followed by another. And another.
The engine drew closer. Metal rattled.
Then Olson’s rusty Sedan lumbered into view, bouncing on the frozen muddy ruts. I didn’t see any sign of Kelsie in the car, but that didn’t mean anything. She might be in the trunk, hidden out of sight.
God forbid.
As soon as Olson spotted me, he slammed on the brakes.
No longer blinded by the effects of the pepper spray, my vision hadn’t fully recovered yet either. A dream-like haze made the edges of everything smear together.
In the military, I couldn’t afford to wait for the right moment to take the shot. Perfect conditions didn’t exist. Wind and rain, sand and dust, enemy fire and a barrage of explosions, I had to adapt to all of it.
Take aim. Fire. Even when it seemed impossible to hit the target.
I pulled the trigger, aiming for Olson’s tires first to slow him down.
One tire blew with an explosive burst of air.
He skidded into a wild, swinging U-turn, speeding back the way he came.
The hunt is on.
I unclipped the radio from my belt.
“I’ve got eyes on Olson. I need two men on backup, north-western corner of the property.”
“Sending Hot Shot your way,” came Kingpin’s response over the radio.
“Tex is on the move,” Blackbeard announced.
For over a mile, I followed Olson’s tracks. Hot Shot crashed through the trees, brushing pine needles out of his mohawk. Tex appeared more quietly a moment later. I gestured up the road.
“We should be closing in,” I said.
In a nearby tree, I spotted a flash of movement and glanced up, raising my pistol.
A video camera, mounted into a tree trunk with no branches for climbing.
“He has a security system.” I pointed upward. “We’re being watched.”
“Do you think Credence could scramble the signal?” Hot Shot offered.
I tossed my walkie-talkie to him.
"Good thinking. Let him know what the situation is. Tex and I will keep going. Catch up with us when you’re done.”
An additional half a mile later and we reached the bunker, nestled into the loamy earth.
“What exactly did you have in mind here?” Tex asked.
“I’m making it up as I go along,” I said, searching the trees for Olson’s security cameras. If we were lucky, we might be able to utilize a blind spot in our favor.
Olson’s car was parked out front. Now that he knew we were here, it would be even tougher to pry him out of that hole in the ground.
And with Kelsie locked inside with him, I had to make sure she didn’t become collateral damage in the process.
Unhooking a grenade from my tac vest, I gave it to Tex.
“Do you know how to use one of these things?”
“You bet your ass I do, brother.”
I took a breath to respond when the screech of a megaphone cut through the stillness.
“You are trespassing on private property," Olson announced. "This is your one and only warning. If you do not leave now, I will open fire.”
I grabbed Tex by his cut, hauling him into the trees for cover. Was Olson bluffing? Did he have artillery mounted out here somewhere that he could control remotely from inside the bunker?
At this point, I wouldn’t doubt it.
Then again, Olson’s weapons of choice so far had been close-range. Blasting me with pepper spray. Holding Kelsie at knife point.
No guns.
I tossed that revelation around in my brain for a moment. It wasn’t solid proof. I couldn’t be sure. And if my gamble didn’t pay off, if Olson actually was armed with a gun—or a whole arsenal of them—it could be a fatal mistake on my part.
Hot Shot came up the road, waving my handheld radio. I gestured for him to stay low.
“Credence did it,” he said when he reached us. “He shut off the video cameras.”
Good. That leveled the playing field somewhat. Olson was blind now. He couldn’t see anything going on outside his bunker. And if he did have remote control guns, he wouldn’t be able to tell where he was shooting.
I rapped my knuckles against Tex’s shoulder and pointed to the bunker.
“At the top of that ridge, there should be an air vent. Pull the pin and jam that grenade into the ground right next to it. Then run like hell. Got it?”
Tex nodded. Skirting along the treeline, he approached the bunker from the side. If Olson looked out from the doorway, Tex would be completely hidden from view.
I dug around in my bag and found my sniper rifle. With well-practiced motions like riding a bike, I assembled the pieces and slotted it against my shoulder.
Calculated wind speed.
Gauged an approximate length of distance.
Slowly, I released my breath.
Tex pulled the pin. Rammed the grenade into the ground. And took off running.
Time seemed to slow. My breath stalled in my throat.
Waiting.
BOOM.
A plume of dirt rose into the air, ten feet high. The bunker’s air vent was obliterated, buried under a mountain of dark earth.
“Holy shit,” Hot Shot whispered in amazement.
I never took my eyes off the bunker door. My finger curled around the trigger of my rifle. I blinked in the sun’s glare, and the crosshairs lost definition in a watery blur.
At last, the bunker door slammed open. Kelsie emerged first, with Olson huddled behind her, a knife pressed to her throat. They coughed and sputtered, covered in a thin layer of dirt.
She’s alive. Thank fuck, she’s alive.
“If you shoot,” Olson screamed, furious. “I’m taking her down with me.”
For the first time in my life, the gun trembled in my hands.
Kelsie and Olson were too fuzzy. I couldn’t tell them apart. And he was too close, using her as a shield to protect him, the coward.
I didn’t have a clear shot.
I couldn’t fucking see.
Adjusting my grip on my rifle, I aligned my aim again.
Breathe.
Focus.
Olson was still screaming, threatening, making demands and ultimatums.
I tuned it out, burying that noise in the back of my mind.
And I set my attention on Kelsie.
Her hands were bound in front of her. She didn’t appear to be injured, but her lips were a shade of purplish-blue that I didn’t like.
I hated this.
She’s my sunshine. Carrying our baby.
I never wanted to see her this way, trapped in my crosshairs. My stomach clenched. Nausea boiled at the base of my throat.
If I missed, if I was even a hair off, I could kill her.
“I love you,” I whispered.
Then I pulled the trigger.
Olson’s body jerked in a flare of red. He hit the ground, unmoving. A neat, round hole between his eyes.
In an instant, I dropped my gun and started running. I couldn’t breathe—my lungs were bursting, too hot, too tight, no air—but it didn’t matter.
I only cared about her.
Kelsie’s legs gave out and she folded into a trembling heap. She clawed at the earth to get away from Olson’s body. I skidded to a stop beside her and gathered her into my arms.
“Ryker,” she sobbed. “You’re here.”
“Of course I am, sunshine. I always come when you call. Don’t you know that by now?”
She managed a wet laugh, torn between joy and relief. Taking my hand, she pressed my palm to her stomach. Neither of us said anything. But her eyes filled with worry and I found myself completely at a loss for words to comfort her.
Instead, I held Kelsie tighter, crushing her into my chest as if I could fuse our bodies together by sheer willpower alone.