"I'm sorry, Jack," Cage said as Jack raised the Shelby's roof. The misty morning had turned into a rainy midmorning. Jack looked at the woman surprised.
"Good," He said. He glanced back at Mac who slept in the back seat. Jack smiled then looked at Cage, "For what?"
"You were right. If we'd tried to force Mac's memories to the service…" Cage raised her hands. Jack nodded and itched the side of his head.
"Yeah, I don't think he has a problem remembering these memories. I think he can't forget or let anyone in enough to help him." Cage looked at him surprised.
"He's never told you?" Jack huffed as he changed lanes.
"No, but I can guess."
"What happened?"
"We were assigned to the Farah province to close off a trade route between ISIS and Russians."
"Russians?"
"Yeah, a guy named Yakov Kilov had a base of operations in the mountains."
"Grant's brother?" Jack again glanced at Mac, but the pale blond slept soundly with traces of red around his nose and eyes from crying.
"I have no idea how we missed that." Jack shared a haunted look with Cage.
"They captured Mac for three days…" Jack's throat strangled shut. He grimaced and looked away. His voice creaked as he continued, "Mac...he was in terrible shape, and I'm not just talking about physically. The bastard had drugged him, and Mac couldn't stand anyone to touch him for a long time after that."
"You think they-"
"Yeah." The car was silent except for the patter of rain hitting the canvas roof. Cage glanced at Mac at a loss for anything to say.
The Robin's Nest Camp Ground was hardly more than a sandy fenced-in parking lot. The fence was rusted and hung broken every ten feet with weeds overgrown enough to have bark. Jack removed his shades parking outside of the wall behind brush of plants big enough to hide the Shelby. Across the broken fence they could see the chained opening to the campground. To the left of the entrance, a long RV sat parked beside a small cottage. The RV was an older model and showed its miles in cracked paint and dents. The cabin, however, was well kept, neatly painted and sat on a micro green lawn. Jack and Cage exchanged glances.
"Not exactly how I pictured slavers living." Jack said. Cage nodded. She glanced back at Mac who had only moaned occasionally in his sleep.
"What about Mac?" Jack frowned. He thought the kid should be home or at Phoenix medical, but he had no illusions that Mac would escape either the second he awoke. Jack sighed choosing the least worse choice.
"I guess, leave him here? Lock the doors?" Cage shrugged. Mac groaned and shifted mumbling something they couldn't make out.
"Maybe wake him up?"
"If we wake him up, he'll demand to come in with us, and we have no idea what we're walking into," Jack said pulling his Baretta. Cage tugged out her Sig Sauer and nodded. They ducked under a hole in the metal barrier then sprinted to the side of the RV. Jack slid to the far side and glanced at Cage. Cage nodded. Jack tried the handle and found it open. They stared at each other nervously. Jack shrugged and silently opened the door. It snapped free, the rain making the rubber hinges looser than he'd anticipated. Cage didn't wait she hopped over the three small steps then launched herself inside. Jack was half a step behind.
They froze and shared sour looks. The mobile home was wood paneled and had chains built into the walls and floors. There was no furniture, no amenities, and windows covered with black curtains. Jack reached over and pulled the corner of a blackout curtain that hung behind the driver's seat.
"They transport the girls in this." Jack gritted.
"Chained up and left completely in the dark for hours." They could see a drain in the center of the floor. Both knew that was for human waste. The girls were probably hosed off periodically. Jack frowned.
"This isn't the staging though. I mean the parties where the buyers can see their merchandise." Jack thought his jaw was going to break, "I want to kill these people so bad!"
"Stand in line." Cage said with the same ferocity.
"Well, shall we see what the Oswalds are up to?"
"You mean the Dymtrenkos?"
"Whatever."
They crept around the RV. Jack paused at the corner and peered around. He listened. Jack could hear symphony music playing faintly. He glanced back at Cage.
"The Nutcracker, Tchaikovsky." Cage automatically. Jack rolled his eyes.
"Not that, THAT!" Jack pointed with the barrel of his Baretta. Cage's eyes narrowed. A black car slowly drove by.
"Either they are very lost or-"
"They're casing out the joint. Maybe the Grants are cleaning house." Cage nodded. Jack led the way to the side of the house and peeped through the open slit between curtains, "What the hell?" He stepped back so Cage could see. An older couple danced to the classical music in the middle of a small but perfectly average living room.
"I think that Nutcracker missed a pair of nuts," Jack mumbled leading around to the back of the small building. The back door was white wood and had artificial fruit trees and birds carved into it. The top and bottom halves opened separately.
"High or low?" Cage asked. Jack shot her a nasty grin. Cage rolled her eyes, "Low it is." Cage crouched beside the door and silently turned the knob. The door shrieked as she yanked it open. Jack dove in ending with a tight roll. He saw a glance of Granny pulling a Kalashnikov AK-12 from a knick-knack shelf. She tossed aside a doily and fired tight controlled bursts. Jack shoved a couch away from the wall and ducked behind it. Stuffing and cloth flew in all directions. Jack spit out nylon fibers and shook his head. He heard Cage's Sig bark backing the old lady across the room. She ducked behind an IKEA armoire which shook with bullet hits from Cage.
Jack counted until Cage only had three more rounds before he popped up shooting. Cage ducked back reloading. Jack grinned as the armoire doors flopped off taking away half of the old woman's cover. The glasses, plates and linens on the shelves exploded. Jack could see his bullets punch through. Mrs. Oswald cried out in pain and fell to one knee. She screamed something in Russian; Jack didn't need a translation the glare she gave him was universal.
Jack swore as a stream of bullets came from above him he flattened on the floor watching as holes punched in the plaster followed him.
"Cage!" He growled.
"I got him." Jack nodded. He squinted and ducked his hand holding the Baretta under the couch. There were only five or so inches of clearance, so Jack had to fire it at an awkward angle cutting down his accuracy. He snapped out three quick rounds then cussed as the recoil drove his hand against sharp springs.
Cage lept into the center of the living room and rolled landing on her back Sig facing up a narrow flight of stairs and the overhang Henry Oswald crept along. Before he could readjust his aim, she drilled him twice in the face. She pivoted but relaxed. Mrs. Oswald was just as dead. Cage stood up and looked over at Jack. She felt a spike of worry at the blood pouring down his right hand, but he barely noticed. He nodded at Granny while he jumped up the stairs to check on Mr. Oswald.
"Dead up here. Nice shot right in the upper sinus."
"Yeah, not so good here, Mrs. Oswald is still alive."
"I meant to keep her alive for questioning," Jack grumbled coming back down to the living room. Cage chuckled and yanked a large doily off the shredded Armoire to put on the woman's bleeding thigh. Jack shoved a crystal lamp aside and pulled off a small red lace tablecloth. Cage ripped it in half and tied one around the older woman's scrawny calf and upper right arm.
"That was to tie her up with," Jack growled.
"What good is tying her up if she dies from losing blood?" Cage hissed back. Jack rolled his eyes and crossed to the small kitchenette beside the stairs. He spun looking for something to use as a binding. Jack smiled as he found a shelf of hand towels. He wrapped one around his hand and pulled out two more. He turned to return to the back of the house when he saw a streak of movement out the corner of his eye.
"SHIT! Cage, down!" Jack grunted as he hit the cold tile. Above him, the world exploded into a constant spray of debris and shattered glass as the black car let loose with more bullets than the worst gangs use in a year. Inching forward, he peeped into the living room. Broken plaster, glass, and sprays of splinters filled the air. Jack tossed the towels to Cage who leaned forward and grabbed them. She was laying beside the old woman's body using her as a shield.
"Toss me that AK-12, will ya? I've been wanting to shoot one since they came out. It's supposed to be pretty good." Cage slid it across the carpet to him with a smile.
"Have fun." She said. Jack grinned.
"You watch the back door; these guys aren't just gonna assume we're dead they're gonna want to kick the bodies." Cage nodded as she scooted over to retrieve the other AK-12. Jack found a protected niche between the refrigerator and living room wall. He rose to a squat and tucked himself back to wait. He looked at Cage who was pushing an entertainment center along the wall so she could duck behind it while having a good angle for the back door. Jack sighed rubbing bits of fluff out of his short hair.
"So how do you like LA?" Jack asked conversationally. Cage looked up her face red and sweaty from exertion. She was using her legs to move the heavy piece of furniture.
"Seriously? You want to talk about this now?" Jack shrugged putting a finger to his ear. The constant barrage was starting to hurt his ears. Cage sighed rising to a crouch behind the wood shelving unit, "It's not bad. I like Disneyland and the Pier, but traffic is a bitch. Where do all the cars come from? It's hours just to go ten feet." Jack laughed.
"Yeah, not sure why they planned it all so badly. You been out to Venice beach?"
"Of course, I love to watch crazy people," Cage shot him a grin, "Other than the ones I work with of course."
"Oh ha, ha. I always wanted to go to an Aussie beach."
"Why? Because they're topless?" Jack opened his mouth to reply when the shooting stopped. Jack's ears rung.
"Hold that thought." He called as he turned aiming at the swiss-cheesed front door.
"I'd rather not." Cage responded readying herself. The quiet after the storm of bullets was eerie and tense. Jack narrowed his eyes at the door. He tried to think about the options open to their attackers. The main problem was that he had no idea how many attackers there were or what their firepower was. Jack assumed that these were the same goons that beat the crap out of Mac but considering them untrained because they used pipes would be a rookie mistake. Jack was no rookie so he braced for anything, or so he thought. He wasn't ready for the grenade that sailed through the window.
"Shit," Jack said rolling behind the living room wall covering his ears. The world became blinding then painfully blared loud. A flash-bang. Jack shook his head and whirled. A foot flew at his head. Jack dropped flat. The boot crashed into the wall leaving a plaster imprint. The man in all black brought his knee up to stomp Jack again. Jack lifted the AK and shot him point blank into his abdomen. A spray of blood exploded out the man's back, "Hmm, not bad." Jack murmured as he stood and shot two more moving figures in black filling the kitchen. A lead pipe slammed into the rifle. Jack swore as his already bleeding hand received the brunt of the blow.
He let the AK drop and bent under a swing of the lead pipe. As soon as it passed over his head, Jack straightened wrapped his arm around his attackers extended arm and twisted. The man screamed as his elbow snapped like a wishbone. Jack kneed the man in the groin then released the man's broken arm. Jack bent his elbow and brought it down between the atlas and axis cervical vertebrae snapping the man's neck instantly.
Jack bent and snapped up the lead pipe spinning in time to see three attackers circling him. Jack smiled starting to enjoy himself. He'd been wanting these bastards since Farah. Jack bent back over the counter behind him and kicked his legs into the chest of the closest. The goon stumbled back into his two comrades. Jack followed him shoving him harder. The man flopped onto the tile hard. Jack didn't pause. He slammed his boot down in the man's solar plexus hard enough to shatter the sternum.
The guy in the back shoved the second guy in line forward. Jack stepped to the side and swung the pipe like a bat. The man managed to stop the blow less than an inch from his nose. Jack smiled. Having the guy's arms in so close limited his movement. Jack pivoted and struck with a solid back mule kick. The man stumbled back another step. Jack landed setting his rear foot then slashed again with the pipe. The man was still off balance and held his lead bludgeon too close, Jack's blow caused the guy to smack his face. The goon groaned and collapsed. Jack kicked him in the chin to make sure.
The third guy surprised Jack. Jack braced for a lead pipe attack. The man dropped his pipe, drew a pistol and shot Jack in one smooth motion. Jack fell back against the counter with a groan losing his pipe. The man slammed his gun into the side of Jack's head. Jack sagged. Black bubbles fizzed across his vision. He shook his head wincing and found himself landing face first in a cupboard full of can goods.
"Huh," Jack mumbled. He rolled onto his back and threw a can of Tushonka at the man's head. The man stepped back startled. Jack threw a box of potatoes. The man ducked. Jack took the time to kick the man's ankle. The man stumbled back catching himself on the stove. Jack rose to his knees a can of tuna in his hand. Jack threw it with the force of his patented Dalton spitball. It knocked the goon in the bridge of his nose. The man dropped his pistol. Jack stepped in close and yanked off the guy's black mask. Jack had an image of pale Eastern European features before he grabbed two hands of the guys greasy black hair and slammed him into the heating element of the stove. Jack winced in pain but didn't stop until the man fell to the tile unmoving. Jack looked up. The kitchen was empty of adversaries. He breathed out in relief. Things were quiet in the living room, too quiet.
"Cage? You alive?" He managed as he staggered forward. He tripped over his unconscious enemy and landed on his wound. Jack wasn't sure where it was, but it flared into agony. He cried out and tried to push to his feet, but someone decided to hijack his body then wrap it in a black night.
Cage had ducked low when she heard Jack yell. She rolled into a ball and covered her ears. Paintings and hangings on the wall shook and flew off the wall as the house rattled with the explosion. Luckily she was far enough away the effects of the flashbang didn't affect her. A body came hurtling through the glass over the couch. Cage pivoted and took him out with a nice triple round burst to his head. She spun to shoot the first two black-clad attackers trying to creep under the bottom half of the door. She heard a crash behind her and turned to have the butt of a rifle slammed into her face. Cage went with the blow and tried to relax her muscles to limit the damage as much as she could, but there was no real right way of taking a buttstroke to the face. She landed on her side, her gun trapped painfully under her body. She tasted blood and could feel her right eye already swelling.
The man above her raised a lead pipe over his head. Moving cobra-fast Cage grabbed the knife she wore in her boot and rolled to the side cutting the man's femoral artery as she did. Hands reached around her pulling her into a bear hug. As soon as she felt the touch of the grab, she dropped her knife and braced her forearms against her hips preventing the goon from locking in a solid grip. Cage crouched stepping backward between the man's feet and heaved forward. The man rolled over her back to the floor. She stomped his throat with her boot and scooped up her knife. Breathing hard she spun, but there were no more opponents. Cage's chest pumped in air. She grabbed the AK-12 and ran to check on Jack.
"Jack!" She cried falling to her knees beside the man. His black shirt was dripping with blood. Cage lifted it and sighed in relief. A jagged wound under his arm carved a groove along his side. Blood ran from it freely, but Cage didn't think it'd be fatal if she could get the bleeding stopped. Cage checked their enemy. Their old female prisoner had her throat slit. Probably the reason for the attack, Cage realized.
The only survivor was Jack's last opponent. Cage restrained him with leather belts from the others. She grabbed a hand towel and shoved it against Jack's side bracing his arm against it. The Shelby had a full military med kit. Cage looked out the front. As she expected, the black car was long gone. She sprinted out to the Shelby, or where they had left the Shelby.
"Son of a bitch!" Cage swore. She doubled and tripled checked, but she was in the right spot. The Shelby was gone and Mac with it.