Chapter 26 Cam #3
John kicked Rod’s body and said something to his men, many of whom gathered around him, standing near where his brother-in-law lay motionless.
Cam remained frozen at the window, watching.
His stomach churned as a pool of blood spread from underneath Rod.
He’d been shot in the head and had been dead before he hit the ground.
Maybe he’d said something against the Fort Robinson occupation or John’s nephew.
From everything Cam knew, John Slains didn’t like to be crossed.
Holding motionless, Dave squeezed the trigger.
Even with the silencer, Cam prepared for his ears to ring.
Instead, the violent kick of the gun was shocking in itself.
He rubbed his shoulder, though Dave absorbed the kickback without sound.
The act was more violent than Cam could have imagined for something so quiet.
The smell of gunpowder filled the house, the air a haze of blue smoke.
Clutching the side of his head, the Slains’ leader staggered back.
Cam’s stomach bottomed out. Slains had just been grazed.
After the second gunshot, the parking lot erupted. Amidst the yelling, John Slains dropped to the ground, disappearing as he crawled away, lost amongst a milling sea of camouflage. Those closest, reaching him almost immediately, the others seconds later.
Dave cursed. “Fucking wind. I just winged him. That’s not a kill shot.” He removed the silencer and scope from his rifle and packed everything in his case. His movements, while methodical, were practiced and fast. “We’ve gotta go.” Despite his rushed motion, he maintained an aura of calm.
“Can’t you shoot again?” said Cam, unable to pry his eyes from the scene below. The pool of blood surrounding Rod grew, spreading on the faded asphalt. Off to the side, his body seemed forgotten in the wake of a larger threat as men ran in every direction.
“Not without giving our position away,” said Dave. “We have about a minute. Maybe two. We’ll have to try another day.” He folded up his tripod and slotted it into its case. He glanced at Cam. “We’re going to have to drive like hell as it is. Let’s go.”
Cam took a last glance through the blinds. The Slains’ leader had gone berserk, arms waving as he yelled. Broken snippets of his shouted rage reached them, but nothing intelligible. Bedlam continued to grow as men ran from inside the school, and others joined them from the road barricade.
Many of the men below seemed confused, seeing Rod’s body on the ground.
Perhaps they thought he’d tried to shoot their leader.
Others grasped the situation more quickly, scanning the hillside houses.
One man pointed to their position, perhaps catching a reflection from Cam’s binoculars.
He stepped back. Their position was compromised.
He grabbed his daypack and headed for the stairs, his heart in his throat. Dave was already in motion, everything stowed, his rifle case in his hands.
They thundered down the stairs and jumped into the SUV, opening the garage on the way.
Cam hit the accelerator and drove straight up the road, away from the failed assassination attempt.
They hit a main road and gunned it. He scanned the road behind in his rear-view mirror. No sign of being followed. Not yet.
“What are we going to tell Amanda?” Cam’s breakfast bar weighed heavily in his roiling stomach. Coming back without Rod would be devastating.
“I’m so sorry,” said Dave. “I didn’t account enough for the increasing wind. The gusts were stronger than I had anticipated. I fucked up. I hope to hell they can’t find us.”
“Don’t blame yourself. It just was one of those things.
” Cam’s blood ran cold. Lissa was with Amanda and the kids.
The first place John Slains would send people to retaliate was the Fort.
John Slains seemed the type to keep someone under his thumb by any means.
He’d be coming for Amanda and the kids. He probably didn’t know about xTerra’s involvement in this plan, but Rod’s wife would be first on his shit list.
Cam skidded out of the subdivision, hitting the old highway running parallel to the interstate. He floored it. Still, nothing else was moving on the road, but the storm was closer. Tumbleweeds sped past, and dust whipped up in swirling clouds. Despite the hour of early afternoon, the sky dimmed.
He kept the SUV moving as fast as he could drive safely.
Visibility was dropping. Cam coughed, dust seeping through the air vents.
He removed one hand from the wheel to cover his mouth, but the truck swayed violently, buffeted by the wind.
Throat and eyes burning, he returned his hand to the wheel and got the vehicle under control.
“We’ve got trouble,” shouted Dave. He was staring behind the SUV, his face pale.
“Slains?” said Cam, his ears still ringing. He checked the mirror. No vehicles, just a wall of black. Lightning crackled, blinding him for a moment. He shook his head, clearing his vision.
“No, tornado,” said Dave, his eyes wide.