Apocalyptic Visions Super Boxset (98 page)

The GPS tracker flashed that the highway was only three miles away now, and all three trucks were still pushing forward. Sarah looked down at the lone piece of C-4 still attached to her belt. It wouldn’t be enough to disable all three.

Losing control, the truck swerved hard right, and Sarah was forced off the makeshift road and into the thicker sand and rocks, losing control of the wheel. The truck sped past, and Sarah regained control and ended up right back where she’d started, at the rear of the convoy. She slammed her foot on the gas and veered left, speeding past the truck that had attempted to run her off the road, then past the second, then the first truck until she was in front of all of them. She put a few hundred feet between herself and the first truck and then turned the wheel hard. The car spun a one-eighty, the tires skidding across the road and sending a tornado of dust into the air. The grille of the first truck now stared straight back into her face, and she slammed the car into reverse, slowly easing off the gas until she was parallel with the first truck.

The barrel of a shotgun poked out the driver’s-side window of the semi’s cab, and Sarah tapped the brakes, sending the bulk of the pieces of lead into the trunk of the car. Keeping one hand on the wheel and one foot on the gas, she positioned her left leg up on the seat with her left arm out the window. She accelerated until she was just in front of the connection of the truck cab and the freight then removed her foot from the gas and her hand from the wheel and leapt onto the trailer as the Rolls-Royce spun out in the sand.

Sarah landed on the awkward strips of metal and made her way around to the driver’s side, where the shotgun barrel still waited for her. She fired at the barrel, knocking it out of the driver’s hands, and made her move. In the same nimble fashion in which she’d managed to leap from the car to the truck, she jumped for the driver’s-side door, yanked it open, grabbed the driver by the collar, and tossed him out. She poked her head out the window, shaking her fist. “And I’ll be contacting your supervisor about your poor driving!”

Sarah slammed on the brakes, causing the second truck to crash into the one she had just commandeered and the third truck to crash into the second. The resulting jolt sent her flying into the windshield with enough force for her back to shatter the glass upon impact.

The truck jackknifed, snapping in half the strands of metal that held the freight to the semi. The momentum and angle caused the cab of the truck to flip to its side, sending Sarah tumbling around in the cab like a rag doll. The semi skidded to a stop less than half a mile from the highway, where groups of cars were slowing to look at the massive wreckage on the old dirt road.

Glass mixed with blood in the open cuts along Sarah’s face, body, legs, and arms. She lay in a twisted heap on top of the inside of the passenger-side door. She looked up and could see the white, blinding light from the afternoon sun reveal the open driver’s-side window above her. She slowly, carefully pushed herself to an upright position, mindful of the bits of glass underneath and around her. Her arms felt like they were going to snap in half, and her left shoulder wouldn’t allow her to move her arm more than a quarter of the way up from her side without a knife-like stab forcing her to put the arm down. Her knees popped as she climbed the cabin, using the shifter and the steering wheel to pull herself out of the wreckage. She squinted into the sunlight, now fully exposing the harsh gashes across her cheeks, neck, and forehead. “I really need to start wearing my seatbelt more.”

Exhausting all the effort she had left, she rolled herself onto the top of the mangled semi and lay there, focusing all her energy into just breathing, as she tried to ignore the slight pinch in her right side with each inhale and exhale.  “Thank God that’s done.”

The long, deep horn of the boat at the dock in the marina outside the factory instantly reminded her of the bombs she had seen being loaded earlier. She lifted her head off the truck and could see the boat still sitting in dock, almost ready to begin its journey out to sea. “Shit.” Her head fell back against the truck with a thud, and she rolled herself off, landing shakily on the ground.

A slight limp in her right leg limited the speed with which she could make it back to the Rolls, but after stretching her gait, she managed to settle right back into a light jog. One of the truckers climbed out of the cab, blood staining his shirt, wobbling on his feet and shaking his fist. “You dumb cunt! You could’ve gotten us killed! You stupid—”

The bullet that hit him in the shoulder dropped him to the ground. Without looking, Sarah holstered the pistol and kept her eyes on the car in front of her. “We can exchange insurance information later.” She hopped into the Rolls-Royce and floored it back down the dirt road. By the time she made it to the dock, the last mooring line was being untied. She slammed the car into park and sprinted to the boarding ramp before the ship was out of reach.

Only one young man stood between her and the entrance. He put his hands up, trying to stop her. “Miss, you’re not allowed to—” Before he could finish, she grabbed hold of his arm, twisted it behind his back, and shoved him into the water.

The boarding ramp crashed a few seconds later as the ship propelled forward. The vessel was easily three hundred feet long, and the large shipping containers on board were no doubt filled with the radioactive bombs.

Still bleeding and now covered in a thick sheen of sweat, dust, glass, and grime, she kept both pistols at the ready, knowing full well she was down to her last three magazines. The deck of the ship was wet, slick, and her boots had trouble keeping their traction as she maneuvered to the front of the boat. The bridge was just ahead when a guard came out from between the crates. The two of them looked at each other for a moment, Sarah taking in the fact that there were still guards alive that she hadn’t killed and the guard taking in the sight of the bloody, mangled, confused-looking woman staring back at him. Almost as if he remembered that he was to guard the cargo on board from harm, his whole body tensed, and he aimed his rifle at her.

“Freeze!”

“Look, buddy, as you can see, I’ve had a hell of a day, so you would be doing me a very big favor if you could just not try and shoot me. Then I won’t have to shoot you, and we can just go about the rest of our day in peace. Maybe even get a drink later. What do you say?”

The guard twitched nervously and moved his mouth to the radio on his chest. “I have a woman on board, injured and armed. I need backup in my location now.”

Sarah sighed, her shoulders sloping in an exhaustive effort, and shifted her left hand to the side of her belt casually, just over the last C-4 explosive she had left. “Always the hard way.”

A quick succession of boots pounded across the deck of the ship as the remaining guards hurried toward her. Her hand flicked on the detonator, and it immediately started blinking, causing the guard to shift his eyes to the distracting light. With her right hand, she drew her pistol and shot the guard in the chest before he had a chance to react.

The sound of the oncoming footfalls doubled after the shot was fired, and Sarah flung the C-4 explosive over the side of the ship, where the magnetic strip found the side of the hull, and it clung to it like a leech to a body. Twelve guards surrounded her as she kept her hands up in the air. “You guys might want to hold on to something.”

The explosion that rocked the side of the boat sent everyone off their feet, and Sarah managed to take out four of the guards before the rest of them realized what had happened. Then Sarah wedged herself between two of the still-disoriented guards, brought her hands around the front of their chins, and viciously twisted their necks until she heard the distinct pop that severed the spinal cord from the brainstem.

The remaining six guards rushed after her, some of them firing blindly into the smoke filling the air from the massive hole now etched in the ship’s side, sending ricocheting bullets all around them. One landed in her calf and sent her to the ground. She could feel the boat shift while she pushed herself up from the watery deck and examined the wound on her calf. She rotated her ankle, triggering a sensation of pain against her leg and a gush of blood from the wound. The bullet was still inside. She pushed herself out of the salt–blood mixture that covered the floor and limped between two piles of nets. The six remaining guards were now on high alert, and she was out of bombs. But with the ship turning around, all she had to do was wait it out until they made it to the dock then sneak off quickly, quietly, and with a bullet wound in her calf. Yeah, sounds like a great plan. She pulled both pistols out.

The smoke covering the deck of the ship grew thick, and she could feel the jerkiness of the boat’s motions. She wasn’t sure where on the haul the bomb had hit, but from the way they were moving, she guessed that it was pretty. The acrid fumes caused her to squint her bloodshot eyes as her entire body throbbed in pain. She kept her pistols scanning the smoke, fingers on the triggers, waiting for the guards to show themselves.

Sarah closed her eyes, letting the sound of their gear, boots, and guns tell her where they were. A light thump sounded behind her. Its culprit was a two-hundred-pound male, roughly six feet tall, with what sounded like an extra twenty pounds of gear on.

With a weak leg, she pivoted, adjusted the aim of her pistol upward, and fired into the smoke, and the distinct thud of two hundred and twenty pounds hit the ground. Five more. The fallen comrade triggered another guard to rush to his aid, where he was swiftly disposed of with another shot into the smoke behind her. Four more.

Each sound that entered her ears was analyzed and categorized so she could determine if it was a threat. Her mind sifted through the clunks of machinery and of the men trying to gun her down. Black smoke continued to fold its blinding haze around her, contrasting against the light of day from above.

Six quick successive footsteps clanged against the metal deck. One—no, two guards sixty degrees to her left. Again she pivoted, firing three shots into the smoke. Two more.

The next sixty seconds were quiet. The guards were scared now. They couldn’t see her, had no idea where she was, and even though she couldn’t see them, all she needed was their slightest misstep to know exactly where her targets were.

A wave of lightheadedness overcame Sarah, and she had to bring one of the pistols down to keep herself from collapsing. The blood from her calf was still flowing, and the knife-like pain in her left shoulder was beginning to equal the knife-like pain in her right side. Her breaths grew shorter, her mind grew bleary, and she could feel herself fading. She wouldn’t last much longer.

Then the subconscious training of her mind picked up another sound. One hundred twenty degrees to her right—no, one hundred twenty-five, two voices, whispering, but their voices bounced off something. They were hidden behind a crate. She didn’t have a shot in her current position.

Sarah gritted her teeth and forced herself up with a soundless effort and pushed forward through the filter of black smoke. Her left arm had gone completely numb now, forcing her to holster the weapon it held, leaving her with just the one pistol, and it took all her strength to keep it steady.

Visibility was limited to less than a foot, and her reflexes had somehow managed to stay intact as flashes of equipment, nets, and metal all quickly appeared then disappeared. Each sudden reveal was less than a second. One wrong move and she could give herself away or miss a perfect shot. The stakes triggered another shot of adrenaline, pushing her eyelids up a little farther as she homed in on the area around her. She wasn’t sure how long the energy burst was going to last, but she was ready to capitalize on it.

Quick footsteps sounded; they were running. Coming from two different directions, but they still sounded close together. They almost ran in unison. It didn’t make sense. The steps were getting closer, faster. They were heading right for her, but from where?

Either side.

Sarah fired to her right, killing the guard instantly, and despite the adrenaline surge that coursed through her, she was still too slow to stop the last guard from barreling into her with a knife to the gut, which failed to pierce the Kevlar. Her gun fell to the deck, and Sarah head-butted the guard’s nose. The crunch of cartilage was followed by a pain-induced grunt and an explosion of blood. The guard only took a half step backward, but it was all the space she needed to separate herself from him, twist the knife out of his hand, then jam it into his femoral artery. He bled out in less than twenty seconds.

Sarah dropped the blade, and it hit the ship’s deck with a thud. She limped her way forward toward the bridge. When she arrived, the very worn-looking Spanish man had both his hands up and was yelling at her in panic. She couldn’t speak Spanish, but she managed to get the context of what he was concerned about. She waved her right hand at him.

“No, I’m done shooting people for the day.” Then she collapsed into the chair next to her. “Just drop me off at the port, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

The captain continued his Spanish diatribe, gesturing wildly with his hands when the radio screeched, and Sarah could have sworn she heard Bryce’s voice, but she waved it off.

“Sarah!” This time his voice came in loud and clear. “Sarah, do you copy? Pick up the radio.”

The captain grabbed the radio before Sarah could reach for it and spewed his tirade into Bryce’s ear. She snatched the radio out of his hand then collapsed back into her seat. “How the hell do you do this shit? I mean, I’m on a boat you’ve never heard of, with a guy that doesn’t speak English, and yet you manage to find a way to get in contact with me.”