Chapter 16
I ducked down as the bullet whizzed through the car from the back and punched a hole through the front windshield. As bits of glass flew through the air around me, I put my arms over my head and dropped to the ground.
“Take cover!” Agent Miranda shouted as he dove behind his car.
He and Sweeney ducked down behind their open car door and drew their own guns from their holsters. I stayed at the front end of their car that was furthest from the shooters and where I had a better vantage point, as well as better protection from any gunfire. I could hear quick, uneven breaths, and a quick glance revealed Sweeney to be the one who’d lost his nerve. Tony Miranda, on the other hand, was cool and collected. His hands were steady as he scanned the road behind us, and he looked just as calm as I imagined he did when going to the beach or the mall.
Two more shots rang out, and I heard the bullets lodge themselves in the framework of their car. The agents stayed down and kept their cover as the bullets flew, while I poked my head up to the front windshield to try and see what the hell was happening through the car. I was hoping to spot the shooter, though I had a pretty good idea of who was behind the attack.
Another shot went off, and I ducked down behind the hood again as the bullet powered through the car and ripped through the headrest of the passenger seat.
“Jesus Christ!” Sweeney snarled. “What the hell is going on?”
“Who the hell is shooting at us, Ryder?” Miranda demanded.
“No idea,” I lied. “Aren’t they shooting at you?”
“That’s bull, and you know it,” Miranda growled.
We all flinched as another shot rang out, and the bullet hit the door of the car that the agents were using for cover. Sweeney fell back against the asphalt as the metal splintered, and I saw real fear in his eyes. Miranda, on the other hand, just looked pissed off.
The shooting stopped for a moment, so I risked another quick look through the windshield and the missing back window. I spotted the Jeep that had followed me earlier parked a short distance down the road beside a line of trees and a car next to that. One of the car doors was open, and Hopper Senior stood just behind it with his rifle raised. Even from that distance, I could see a look in his eyes that told me that he wasn’t going to let anyone leave until one side had enough holes in them to be mistaken for Swiss cheese.
Hopper Senior wasn’t alone, either. I spotted three more neo-Nazis from the compound, all armed with very nasty-looking rifles. They’d already done some serious damage to my Vette, and if I stayed there any longer, they’d probably destroy it.
On cue, one of the skinheads opened fire, and a side mirror exploded into a million pieces of glass and plastic.
“These guys have us outgunned,” Agent Miranda moaned as he ducked again.
Another bullet smashed into the windshield, and I tried to press my stomach even deeper into the ground.
“Will…” Francine said.
“Yeah, I know,” I replied as I took off my cap and pressed my suit at the neck.
I felt the head section of it secure itself over my entire skull, and I breathed a sigh of relief that everything was now protected. I glanced to the side at the agents, and I saw Miranda staring at me with a stunned look on his face.
“What the hell…” Miranda gawked, but then he shook himself out of it and turned back to the shooters. “Sweeney, open fire!”
The two agents started to let off their own rounds, so I risked another peek around the car. Miranda and Sweeney were both good shots, and Hopper’s men were forced to duck for cover behind the Jeep. One of the neo-Nazis wasn’t quite fast enough though, and I saw his arm swing up as a bullet hit his shoulder. He went down in a shower of blood and hit the ground hard. His accomplices hardly blinked though and continued firing.
“Good shot, sir,” Sweeney said as the two agents ducked down and reloaded.
I still hadn’t pulled my own weapon because I knew Miranda and Sweeney would demand answers I wasn’t ready to give. But as good as the pair of agents were, I didn’t think they stood much of a chance against Hopper’s crew. Besides, I still needed to get home with the plutonium intact, so I finally pulled out my own weapon. I knew it was set to Electro-Launch, but I didn’t think I had a choice any longer.
As I leaned out from the car, I decided that my first target was Hopper Senior, but before I could pull the trigger, I saw one of the neo-Nazis rejoin his buddies with a new weapon in his hand. It looked like an MP5 submachine gun, so I tumbled out of the way just in time to avoid the barrage of bullets that followed a moment later, and I grimaced as padding from the driver’s seat floated into the air through the almost entirely destroyed windshield.
Neither Sweeney nor Miranda had noticed my weapon yet since they were so focused on the neo-Nazis behind us. The government men were patient, I had to admit, and they were careful only to fire whenever there was a break in the bullets heading our way. But the agents hadn’t been able to hit anyone since Miranda’s one successful shot, and I knew they had to be running low on ammunition.
“Sir, I think…” Sweeney started to say as he peered over the edge of the car.
Miranda and I would never get to hear what the other agent thought. A rifle cracked in the still air, and a moment later, a large hole appeared in the middle of Sweeney’s forehead. The force of the impact snapped the agent’s head backwards as his body collapsed against the asphalt. He landed on his back with his legs still bent at the knees and his arms flung wide.
“Shit,” I gasped as I stared into his lifeless eyes.
“Sweeney!” Miranda gasped.
“Can’t you call for backup?” I asked.
“There isn’t anyone close,” Miranda muttered, but he pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial. “This is Agent Miranda! I need backup at my location! Shots fired, and an agent is down!”
He set the phone down without bothering to turn it off and fired off a couple of quick rounds. He looked even more determined, but I knew he was outgunned, and now, seriously outmanned.
And now there were more agents on the way, which I’d suggested just because I didn’t want Miranda to get killed as well, but I couldn’t be caught with a sackful of plutonium when they did arrive.
“Shit,” I muttered as I ducked to avoid another fusillade of bullets.
I glanced back at the Vette and thought about the rucksack with the case of plutonium inside it. My new car somehow hadn’t been hit yet, so at least I didn’t have to worry about radiation poisoning on top of the bullets, but I wasn’t sure how much longer that luck would hold out. I needed to get the plutonium out of the area before Hopper managed to damage the plutonium case and cause a leak, but that was going to be tricky in the middle of a gun battle. I had to end this, now, before Miranda’s backup arrived.
There was another momentary break in the weapons’ fire, so I peered around the side of the car, picked out a guy by the side of the Jeep, and pulled the trigger.
After the barrage from the submachine gun and the rifles, my own silenced weapon sounded wimpy in comparison. However, it turned out to be the most powerful out of all of them. I saw the guy fall to one knee and reach for his leg, and then he started to take his gaiter off, probably to staunch the blood flow he was expecting. But what I was firing, with the Electro-Launch mode, weren’t normal bullets. They hardly even broke the skin, and they didn’t need to. It was what happened as they made contact that did the real damage.
When nothing happened for a moment, the neo-Nazi looked up at Hopper Senior, who looked just as confused as his soldier. The guy started to say something, but then his head rolled back, and his body went stiff, and a moment later, he fell onto the ground, dead.
“What the fuck…?” I heard Hopper Senior call out in the silence.
“What was that?” Agent Miranda asked. “What the hell was that?”
“Keep shooting,” I replied as I snuck forward to join Miranda behind the door. “There’s only two guys left, so we might still get out of this alive.”
He looked like he was about to argue, but then he nodded and started to fire at the last two neo-Nazis.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, but we’re gonna have a long talk after this is over,” Miranda growled at me as he pulled the trigger.
He hit the last of Hopper’s minions in the leg, and blood spurted out of the wound.
“Fuck!” the man shouted as he hopped backward toward the Jeep.
“One down,” Miranda muttered.
But the injured man wasn’t done yet. Hidden behind the Jeep, he started to fire off wild shots that tore up the pavement and plowed into the dirt in the nearby fields. He bellowed as he fired, and he only stopped when Hopper finally barked at him.
There were a few more shots, and then I peered around the car door. The guy was teetering toward the back of the Jeep, presumably to get more ammo, and I fired my own weapon again.
The Electro-Launch dug a hole through the guy’s shoulder, and a moment later, he collapsed to the ground in midscream. The sudden silence was unnerving, and I saw Hopper Senior nudge the body with the toe of his boot.
“Another down,” I said to Miranda, who gawked at me as I ducked down beside him again.
“Where can I get one of those?” he said as he pointed at my gun.
“You don’t wanna know,” I replied.
“Will?” he said as he studied my weird suit and even weirder gun.
“Yeah?” I replied.
“All of this…” he said. “Has this got to do with the meteor?”
Another shot rang out and time seemed to slow to a quarter of the speed. I was looking right at Agent Miranda as the bullet tore through the side of his head. I watched his face drop in shock as a moment of realization hit him, and then I saw his eyes close as the bullet tunneled through the gray matter inside his head, as it destroyed the person his brain had created, and then it burst out of the other side of his skull, just above his ear. Chunks of brain and bone fragments splattered onto the tarmac, and then Tony Miranda fell onto it and laid still.
Shit.
“Rest in peace, boys,” I said to the two dead agents on the ground on either side of me.
“Will, you need to move,” Francine said.
“I know,” I said as I turned away from Miranda and looked over at the Jeep.
Hopper Senior had grabbed the last surviving minion and hauled him to his feet. Since he had only been shot in the leg and was still ambulatory, Captain Mustache clearly believed the guy could still fight. The neo-Nazi swayed slightly from the blood loss, but he still managed to raise his weapon and fired at the car.
“They are both approaching the car,” Francine said.
I took another quick peek and saw the two men had crossed the road and were halfway between their Jeep and the agents’ car. I barely had time to see that much as Hopper opened fire as soon as he spotted the top of my head. I fell into a crouch and scrambled over to my Corvette. I grabbed the rucksack from the back seat, and scurried toward the front end of the car while the road exploded around me. I realized that they both had automatic weapons, and while I didn’t think they could kill me, I would definitely be in a lot of pain if too many rounds hit me.
I needed a plan, and I needed one fast. I didn’t know how much time I had before more Federal agents arrived, and I definitely didn’t want to be on the spot with two dead agents when they did. And then there was the plutonium. How would I even begin to explain why I had it?
There was a cornfield just to my left, and the stalks were tall enough to provide some cover as long as I didn’t disturb the plants too much. I heard one of the weapons click, and I knew that at least one of the neo-Nazis was out of ammunition for the moment. It seemed like the best chance I would have, so I got into a crouch and practically threw myself into the field. A few bullets followed me, but the sound of gunfire soon died down.
I moved toward the middle of the field and then found a good spot where I could sit and listen. It was painfully quiet, and all I could hear was the breeze as it blew gently through the stalks. I tried to check for signs of someone else moving through the corn, but all I saw was a bird soaring overhead and some small insects that were crawling up and down the stalks.
My palm grew sweaty from the tight grip I had on the gun despite the fact that the suit kept me from overheating, and my heart was beating so hard that I was surprised that no one else could hear it. It felt like I was stuck in some bad horror movie, and I clutched the rucksack to my chest as I waited for the zombies to stumble between the long rows of corn.
Then, I heard the crunch of a fallen corn plant under a heavy foot. It was off to my left, so I started to creep through the maze of stalks as slowly and as silently as I could. I kept my breathing shallow and infrequent and made sure to only step on the softer ground to avoid making any sounds.
After a minute or so, I was able to see the man through a gap in the plants. He hadn’t seen me yet, but I could see him limping on his wounded leg, the gun in one hand, and the trail of blood he’d left behind him. He had a murderous look in his eyes as he peered around the field, but he turned away from me, apparently oblivious to my presence.
Slowly, I raised the gun, aimed at him, and waited for him to get into a better position for me to shoot.
Suddenly, he turned toward me, and his eyes landed on mine. He raised his gun as I pulled the trigger.
“Here!” he shouted right before my Electro-Launch bullet powered into his chest.
He straightened up, stiff as a board with his jaw clenched and his hands twitching, and his gun fell to the ground. He glared down at me for a moment, and then he was down.
I didn’t wait for Hopper Senior to come and find me. I darted off through the stalks for a short distance and then crouched down again to wait for Hopper to come toward the source of the sound.
In the back of my mind, I knew I really needed to get going. I couldn’t be here when the other federal agents showed up, and they could show up at any moment.
However, I still needed to deal with Hopper Senior first. If he got away, then he would just reassemble his cell somewhere else, recruit more people to his heinous cause, and probably come looking for me. I had no doubt he’d try to build another bomb as well, and there was no way in hell I was going to give him the chance to walk away from the field and kill more innocent people.
“Someone is approaching on the right, Will,” Francine said.
I turned to the right, and the first thing I saw was a black boot carefully stepping through a line of corn plants just five or so yards ahead of me. The rest of Hopper Senior’s body quickly followed. He had his gun raised, and he quickly swept it back and forth as his eyes scoured the field.
But before his eyes turned toward me, he saw his dead colleague on the ground. There was no remorse on Senior’s face as he kicked the man’s leg to make sure he was dead, and then shook his head as though he was disappointed with him.
“No more games,” Senior called out. “There’s only one way this ends, and that’s with your death.”
Senior was turning in a slow circle as he spoke, and his eyes found mine almost as soon as he’d finished his taunt. He gave me an evil grin worthy of a Bond villain, and then the barrel of his submachine gun turned toward me.
“Shit,” I grunted.
I dove to one side as he opened fire, rolled, got to my feet, and took off through the stalks. Bullets followed, but I was making a circle as I moved away, so that I was always at an angle to him. The barrage stopped a few seconds later when he lost sight of me again, and I started to work my way slowly back toward the neo-Nazi.
“I need that plutonium, boy!” Hopper Senior called out. “No one steals from me and lives to tell the tale.”
“He clearly watches far too many Westerns,” Francine said.
“You did well, I’ll give you that,” he continued. “You got into our camp, stole it right out from under our noses, and then gave us the slip on your way out of town. But you didn’t take one thing into account… Me.”
“Christ,” I whispered as I rolled my eyes at his speech.
“See, I need that plutonium to finish the work I’ve dedicated my life to,” he said as he started to walk through the crops. “I’m going to rid the world of the folks that just don’t belong here.”
He had begun to walk in my general direction, but I decided to face the beast head-on. I was running out of time, and frankly, I never did like those stupid speeches the villains always gave.
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” I said as I stepped in front of him.
“Will, what are you doing?” Francine asked.
“Well now…” he said with a smirk as he raised his gun and pointed it right at me. “That was really stupid.”
“No,” I said as I raised my own gun. “It wasn’t.”
His finger pressed down on the trigger just as I began to move. I darted from side to side, I dodged, I weaved, and I advanced toward him like a lion rushing in for the kill. A couple of his bullets hit me on the way through, but in my almost animalistic attack, I hardly felt them, although I was sure I would later.
He fired the gun toward my legs, and I pushed off the dark soil and did a frontflip as I soared through the air, over the bullets, toward him. I saw his mouth widen in surprise as I came down on top of him, and I struck him so hard with my feet that he flew back through the field and landed in a heap on the ground.
I walked over to him and looked down at the sorry sight. His breathing was ragged from the blow to the chest, and for a brief moment, he looked bewildered as he gazed up at me. But that soon gave way to resignation, though he wasn’t quite ready to give up the fight.
He raised his gun again one last time, but I fired first. The electric shock took half a second to take effect, and then he went still. His gun fell to the side, and whatever had been inside him was gone, leaving only a pile of lifeless flesh and bones behind. I knew that wherever he had gone in death wasn’t going to be filled with cherubs and butterflies. In fact, if the afterlife did exist, I figured he would be going somewhere a lot hotter.
“Will, you need to leave immediately,” Francine said, which pulled me out of my thoughts.
“You’re right,” I said as I turned and started to sprint back toward the road. “Can you guide me back to the car?”
“Of course,” Francine replied. “Turn ninety degrees to your right and start running.”
I obeyed, and soon, I stepped out of the cornfield and back onto the road where the craziness had all started. I took a moment to look at the chaos I was about to leave behind. The Jeep was across the street with two of the neo-Nazi soldiers on the ground beside it. Closer to me, beside my car, laid Agent Miranda and Agent Sweeney, both dead, and just down the road was their abandoned car. Blood, bodies, and shattered glass laid all over the road.
I hurried past the agents’ car, which had definitely seen better days, and over to my Corvette, which was surprisingly unharmed. I clambered into the driver’s seat and put the bag full of plutonium in the passenger seat, and then closed the car door that I had left open when I had gotten out to meet the agents. I pushed the button for the ignition and silently willed the vehicle’s engine to turn over. I knew it would, but I needed to get going quickly as I couldn’t be seen in the car here since it would identify me as being involved.
“You angel,” I muttered as the engine rumbled to life.
There was a crunch as the tires rolled over the broken glass and God only knows what else, but eventually, all I could hear was the hum of the engine as I sped away. I felt like a changed man somehow as I crossed into Kansas and followed the long, straight road back toward my home. I had done a lot of good today, and I knew that in my core.
Sadly, I had taken a human life, well, a few human lives, today, and that was not something I really wanted to boast about. But it had been a necessity that served the greater good, and I’d only resorted to that ultimate solution when I’d had no other choice.
I passed a few more cars on the outskirts of a small town, and I saw the strange looks cast my way. At first, I wondered if it was because there was some damage to the car that I hadn’t noticed, but then I realized I still had the full suit on. I pressed my neck to retract the head portion of the suit, and then took a few deep breaths while I tried to find some sort of calm after the craziness.
At least the mission had been a success. I had the plutonium that Francine needed to power up and activate what would be the ship’s core, and I had saved hundreds of innocent lives along the way. Everything had gone according to plan and lives had been saved, and that was all that mattered to me.
“Will, there is a convoy of vehicles heading this way on this road,” Francine said. “They are two minutes out.”
“Shit,” I said. “They’ll know Miranda and Sweeney had gone out to wait for me at the border and it wouldn’t take much for them to realize I was at the shoot-out.”
I looked around for any place to hide, but all that was beside the road was a grassy plain on the right and some trees on the left.
“One and a half minutes,” Francine said.
“No pressure,” I said as I chewed my lip.
Should I turn around and go back the way I came from? No, I would just be going back toward the scene of the crime, and it would be even more obvious that I was involved. I needed somewhere to turn off. But where?
“Shit,” I muttered.
“One minute out,” Francine said.
“Shit!” I shouted.
Suddenly, there was a gap in the trees on the left, and I turned down a narrow farmer’s dirt track.
It was just about wide enough for the Corvette to fit through, and the shade from the trees hid the old track from the road. I bounced around as I drove carefully over the bumps and ditches in the road, but it was better than having to pass Miranda’s backup out on the road. I kept my fingers crossed that the government vehicles would be moving too fast to notice the small dirt path, and that I was going slow enough to avoid making a noticeable cloud of dust they could see. But even if they did, why would they bother to investigate it? They were responding to a call for an agent down, for God’s sake. Still, I pulled the car behind a pair of large willows where I hoped it wouldn’t be visible and turned off the engine.
In the sudden silence from the engine, I could hear cars coming down the road. I gripped the steering wheel tightly as the sounds of the engines drew nearer.
“Thirty seconds,” Francine said.
And then I heard the chopper overhead.