CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Dreyden Road began where the city of New York ended and led travelers along a path that slowly became rustically rural with each passing mile. It began at the edge of the city as a four lane, divided highway and eventually ended as a two lane country road. As it narrowed, the roadway became as curvaceous as a 50's pin-up gal.
Vin found the gentle turns relaxing. Between the crooked roadway and increasing number of trees overhanging the pavement he knew there was no chance of being the target of a distance sniper. That feeling would evaporate when the road eventually straightened out near its termination. There was a very small window of opportunity on this particular roadway which was why the team chose it to make a stand. There was only one area of opportunity for sniper ability of Dragon's Claw.
Dreyden Road dead-ended in a collection of scattered estates and open land. Wu would be trapped inside an unbreakable perimeter of ATF, State Police and Federal Park Rangers that knew this area well. The hastily collected law enforcement personnel were mounted on everything from horses to small all-terrain vehicles and 4-wheel drive trucks, all of which blended in to the area to look like residents.
With only a half a day to pull the plan together, Chris has been impressed at the response. Victor Fitzgerald and Jack Malone had a lot of contacts and they had all acted quickly. The hard part had been convincing Victor of Cheever's double dealings. Once Judge Travis had approved the search warrants for Cheever's phones and financial and personal records, the limited information they'd had time to retrieve was damning. And when the Deputy Director intentionally let the location of the safe house off Dreyden Road slip, Cheever's following phone call to Wu quickly hung him.
Victor Fitzgerald had been uncharacteristically quiet since then.
Vin cast his eyes in the direction of his brother, trying to read his expression. Martin, too, had been subdued since they'd started their trip. He must have felt Vin's gaze on him because after a moment, Martin met his brother's concerned look.
"I'm fine," Martin assured him with a half grin. "When this is over, we need to get away and talk."
Vin nodded. "I think we've earned some time off, wouldn't ya say, JD?" The only response was a grunt from the back seat. Vin turned as much as his aching head would allow. "You okay back there?"
A mumbled "yeah" was all he uttered. Martin turned to the back seat, having a better angle to see the agent. Vin saw his brother frown at first and then break into a smile.
"Are you carsick?" Martin prodded.
"Carsick?" Vin laughed. "JD, are you really carsick?"
"Who's carsick?" Nathan demanded from the driver's seat. "I can't pull over! Chris would kill me and he's pretty accurate from that distance." He nodded at the rearview mirror.
Leaning aside just a little so he could look in the mirror, Vin saw Chris' sedan coming out of a curve behind them. Yup, Chris was accurated from that yardage, even from a moving car.
Nathan continued. "If you're gonna heave, JD, use this!"
An empty paper coffee cut flew backward through the air and bounced off Vin's shoulder. HE cringed as he automatically tried to grab the cup before it hit the floor. "Ooh, shouldn't move that fast," he winced, his head a constant reminder of his injuries. Much more slowly, he retrieved the cup and handed it over his shoulder to JD. "You ain't gonna ruin Ezra's jacket, are ya?" he commented.
"Shut up," JD growled, grabbing the cup. "I'll be fine when the road straightens out."
Martin tried to look sympathetic but Vin saw the amused shine in his brother's eyes. Martin's mouth opened to issue what Vin knew would be a smart-aleck remark when a loud bang was suddenly followed by a jerking movement of the Suburban.
"SHIT!" Nathan yelped. Vin saw him glance to the rearview mirror. "CHRIS!"
A louder bang made the big SUV cut sharply to the left, and then to the right, giving Vin just enough time to press his body against the side before his world turned sideways and the sound of screeching metal drove him painfully into darkness.
ooooOOOOOooooo
Wu relaxed, allowing the rifle stock to drop from his shoulder. The two vehicles had come to a crashing stop exactly where he'd planned. He had not instituted a medium range attack in decades and was pleased that his accuracy and speed was still intact. Wu whispered thanks to the Highest Powers for giving him the chance to prove himself.
Wu strode to his nearby Jeep and slipped inside, driving a few dozen yards to reach the wrecked vehicles. The smell of hot antifreeze and burned rubber ignited excitement in his veins but his tight and practiced control kept him to an efficient pace. Wu carefully and respectfully stored his rifle and retrieved his handgun, tucking it in his waistband. As he exited the Jeep he felt for the knife pouch on his waist and patted it to make sure his knife was where it should be. It would soon be time for close work and again feel the essence of his victims' blood on his fingers.
The sedan was nose down in the muddy rut of a small stream. Steam rose from the grille and the shredded tire he'd shot out still twitched from the front wheel hub. There was no motion inside from the body draped over the steering wheel. After a quick visual inspection, he moved to his main target.
The Suburban was on its left side in the same ravine, the shot out tire hidden under the vehicle. Wu was momentarily annoyed that he had to climb up to the side door, but then chastised himself for being ungrateful. The Powers that gave him his ability to shoot would not be pleased with that attitude. Wu immediately banished the thoughts with a mental apology and focused on finishing his task.
Wu climbed onto the side of the vehicle and reached inside through the broken window to unlock the door. It took some effort, but the door finally groaned open. The sight of the bloodied, tumbled bodies inside caused his heart to race with anticipation. He grabbed the closest arm and tugged – it didn't move. Wu slipped into the metallic hulk and used his knife to cut the seatbelts that kept his prey from him.
The familiar Fitzgerald/Nicklin face, lax in unconsciousness, showed no reaction at being pulled free. The way the arm was wrapped against the body made it easy to push the first figure out the and over the edge of the SUV. There was a dull thud as it hit the ground.
Wu reached in again, ignoring the tug of long unused muscles in his back and freed the second twin. Blood marred on side of the injured man's face, the sweet and heady copper scent exciting Wu to the point of losing concentration. Wu paused, mentally berated himself and asked the Powers to forgive his momentary weakness. Then the second body joined the first as the assassin focused on his task. Wu heard the hard cast on his second victim's arm banging loudly against the vehicle as it fell to the ground.
The driver moaned and stirred. Wu struck black man's skull with the butt of his knife to send him back into unconsciousness. Wu turned to the third passenger and was momentarily taken aback when he realized it wasn't St. James. The figure moaned and an arm jerked just before the eyes snapped open. Wu found that he was looking at the face of a boy.
Wu pursed his lips in disgust. Who did these people think they were, sending out a mere boy to protect Dragon's Claw's victims? The blatant disrespect was insulting. Wu thought about cutting the boy's heart out in anger but then remembered why he was here. The Powers were testing his humility! Wu took a deep, relaxing breath, ignored the tantalizing blood perfume and knocked the unknown boy into the same darkness as the driver. Wu congratulated himself on his restraint.
"This is a clever, convoluted test," Dragon's Claw complimented the Powers in a reverent whisper, bowing his head with respect. "I can only hope I have proved my worthiness so far."
Wu crawled out from the wreck and laboriously dragged his two sacrificial entities to the Jeep where he threw them in with little finesse. Wu was reminded that this was the kind of physical labor that started his climb to becoming Dragon's Claw and thus confirmed to him that he was on the right path. He quickly bound the arms and feet of his victims with duct tape.
Now he had to get his victims to the sacrificial site for the Blood Offering ritual and Dragon's Claw would be redeemed.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Chris came around abruptly with the sound of a vehicle starting. His body jerked into motion and he sat up, looking around wildly as his hand felt for this weapon. His stomach lurched when he saw the Suburban on its side and it took a moment for the sound of wheels on dirt to register. He twisted his head over his shoulder and saw a sage-colored Jeep executing a careful Y turn.
"Hey!" Chris yelled as he tried to undue his seatbelt. "STOP!"
Realizing he wouldn't get loose in time Chris fumbled with the car's radio.
"All units, the suspect hit early and is on an off-road westbound trail. I repeat, the suspect hit early! Suspect vehicle is a light green Jeep. I need back up now! Outside the perimeter to the east!" Radio chatter immediately cluttered the airwaves and Chris returned to fighting his seatbelt. Finally, it released and he erupted from the smashed vehicle, stumbling as his feet hit the uneven ground of the ravine. Finding his balance he dragged his weapon from his shoulder holster and shot off three rounds at the retreating Jeep. There was at least one solid strike that he could hear but the Jeep didn't hesitate in its departure.
"SHIT!" Chris screamed as the vehicle moved off in a cloud of dust that obscured the license plate. "GOD DAMN IT!"
Chris clawed his way out of the ravine and wobbled toward the SUV. "Nathan!" he called. "NATHAN!" He ran around to the front, barely able to make out the still form behind the wheel. Chris yelled again and Nathan jerked, coming to life much too slowly for Chris.
Squealing tires from the road caused Chris to duck down and bring up his weapon toward the noise. Buck leaped from a car before Samantha came to a complete stop.
"He's getting away!" Chris yelled.
"Which way?" Buck responded, sliding to a stop and pulling out his weapon.
Chris pointed to the brush-hidden off-road trail beyond the ravine. The only evidence of the departed Jeep was the remnants of a dust cloud settling on the path.
"Damn! We can't follow in this car," Buck said with a nod toward Samantha's sedan. "I'll see if there's air support and if anyone else is . . ."
Before Buck finished his sentence a park ranger emerged from the trees on a leggy bay horse, his radio alive with chatter. "Everyone alright?" he asked as he pulled up.
Without a word, Chris stalked to the man and yanked him from the saddle. The ranger, taken totally by surprise, fell without a sound. Chris stuck his foot in the stirrup; the horse danced in place, its ears flicking nervously.
"Chris, are you nuts?" Buck called. "Wait for a helo! You'll never catch him on a horse!"
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the ranger demanded as he gained his feet.
The angry team leader barely heard the last words as he pulled himself into the saddle, reined toward the off-road path and urged the horse into a ground pounding gallop.
Orders and directions were quick and furious, spilling from Chris' earpiece nonstop and he quickly built a mental picture of he back up; he realized he was on his own for now. After a dozen more strides of the running horse, Chris blocked all the chatter and became completely focused on pursuit.
The narrow roadside ravine where he left his car was a tributary to a larger creek that ran, more or less, parallel to the trail the Jeep followed. There was very little water in the creek this time of year and the sandy-loam bed proved to be a good surface for the galloping horse. The Jeep had to follow a trail that had more curves than the riverbed - one thing in Chris' favor.
Chris figured his luck wouldn't last – it never did. The creek bed would run out soon or the Jeep would take another trail up one of the numerous valleys; trying to plan ahead was impossible since he didn't know the area. He had to come up with a plan, and fast. Chris noticed the roof rack on the Jeep and worked it into an idea.
The Jeep bounced along the trail with impressive speed. Chris figured the passengers were getting a very rough ride and that he probably couldn't count on Vin or Martin at the moment – if they were still alive. He moved his hands down the length of rein and urged the bay to a faster speed by leaning over the horse's extended crest. The animal complied. Chris knew it would tire quickly at this rate.
He saw an out and immediately took it. A narrow path that led to the creek's edge came into view and he directed his mount toward it. The pair thundered up the slight slope and through a primitive dirt parking area. A low log fence bordered the area and the bay jumped the obstacle without hesitation. Chris grabbed a handful of mane and managed to stay aboard. Upon landing, he glanced up and saw the Jeep's rear bumper disappear behind a low rise.
Chris spat a curse and headed for the rise. Suddenly, the ground in front of them dropped away where another creek had cut a path. The horse's ears shot forward and Chris barely had time to adjust his seat as the horse took a gallant and powerful leap.
They cleared the void – barely. The horse stumbled on landing but quickly found his feet and resumed his furious pace. His mount was starting to lather and Chris knew it would soon be spent. He could only pray that his vague idea panned out before the horse tired completely.
Man and horse attacked the small rise. When they reached the slope's crest Chris instinctively guided the spirited bay to follow the slope's crest. The timing was perfect. As the Jeep straightened out parallel to their course and below them, Chris asked the horse for more and it complied, probably for the last time, he realized. He had to act now.
Chris leaned to the side and pushed off the thundering horse, landing on the roof rack with an ungainly thump. He grabbed the leading edge of the roof rack with both hands and braced his feet against the back section. The Jeep swerved violently from side to side, but he held on even though the ride was violently rough. When he felt somewhat secure Chris released one hand and reached for his handgun.
He pulled out his weapon and frantically tried to figure his next move. He looked ahead and saw that the off-road trail emptied on to a narrow roadway so he waited. The bumpy, wild ride immediately became smoother as the Jeep transitioned from dirt to pavement with a wild jump that lifted Chris' belly from the roof.
He'd just slammed back onto the metal when a loud bang produced a sting in his thigh. Gunfire! Another bang quickly followed. Chris looked over his shoulder and saw a bullet hole next to his hip. A second later another shot burned a trail along his side.
He had to move.
Chris scooted to the right edge and dropped his arm. It was an awkward angle – too awkward to shoot through the window – so he needed a secondary target, one that would allow the vehicle to come to a controlled stop rather than spinning out. Chris swung his arm to the front and started shooting at the hood, hoping to hit the distributor cap or the radiator; damage to either one would eventually kill the engine and hopefully that would happen before he got gut shot.
Firing off a trio of shots, Chris rolled aside as quickly as his predicament allowed. A pair of shots zinged through the roof where his abdomen had just been. He fired another trio of shots through the hood and rolled to his side to make the smallest target he could. Another pair of holes burst through the roof next to his chest.
Chris concentrated on staying aboard and listened to the radio chatter in his ear, trying to estimate when he's have backup. The Jeep was far outside the established perimeter but a helicopter unit answered up and was heading his way. For now, Chris was on his own. He twisted and snapped off another trio of shots and was finally rewarded with a violent spray of steam and antifreeze. The hot concoction came down in a fiery rain and he gasped. The Jeep jerked suddenly, the engine screaming.
Another shot pounded the roof and Chris' left bicep erupted blood, tearing his grip on the rack. He yelped in pain and frantically grabbed for the rail with his right hand. His gun disappeared over the edge of the roof. Adrenalin dampened the hurt but didn't dampen the dizziness that attacked him. Mentally, all he thought to do was hang on and survive.
Chris tightened his grip on the rack rail and braced himself with his feet. His left arm refused to obey him. The Jeep's motor whined as it seized and died. The vehicle slowed rapidly and then jerked to a near stop, the engine grinding sickly.
Chris heard the driver door open. Rolling to the right side and felt brief weightlessness before painfully hitting the asphalt with a loud grunt and a spray of bright lights.
Shocked, Chris froze for a moment. Blinking rapidly, he worked to ignore the pain of his arm and slowly turned his head aside. He saw feet on the other side of the Jeep and was reminded of Ezra – the shoes were the expensive kind. Automatically feeling for his gun, he remembered that it was somewhere on the road behind them. A renewed adrenalin rush forced focus.
The feet weren't moving. A door open.
'Vin!' his mind screamed.
The roar in Chris' ears grew louder very quickly. He tried to push to his feet but his left arm collapsed when he tried to use it. Liquid fire immediately shot up his arm and directly to his head and he reeled, gasping. Chris rolled to the other side, trying to ignore the blinding pain, and again attempted to stand. His body wouldn't respond.
Chris collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily and fighting darkness as he commanded his boy to work. He growled in frustration at his body's betrayal. Chris fell back again and tried to yell a warning but the roaring in his ears was too loud. He suddenly felt bits of dirt bite his skin on a hard wind. Then he realized that the roaring he heard was the helicopter. Backup had arrived.
Chris dropped into a black abyss.
TBC