Authors: Abigail Graham
The phone. He picked it up.
It wasn’t Faisal on the other end, it was Jennifer’s sister.
“What the hell is going on?” she shrieked, “Jenn!
Jenn!
”
Jennifer took the turn too fast, blasted through a stop sign in town and the whole van leaned. Jacob could feel the inside wheels lifting as the van started to roll, but by some quirk of chance it heaved to the side and came back down and straightened out as Jennifer, her face a mask of naked panic, wrestled with the wheel and pounded on the gas pedal with her foot. Overloaded, the van just coughed and sputtered, barely edging up to forty miles an hour. Jacob glanced at the speedometer and his stomach dropped. They were barely doing forty-five.
Behind, the motorcycles were fanning out, two pulling along either side.
“Jacob,” Jennifer pleaded, “Jacob, what do I do?”
He honestly had no idea.
11.
“Jacob?
Jacob?”
Panic surged through Jennifer as Jacob’s head dipped to the side. He was still holding the bandage to his shoulder, and she thought he was still awake, but she could do nothing about that now. The girls in the back of the van were all screaming or moaning or both, and five men on motorcycles pulled up behind her as soon as she took the turn into Port Carol.
She still had the phone but she needed both hands on the wheel. The van was snorting and snarling, the engine coughing as the needle hit the red zone and the speedometer barely topped forty-five, no way they would have a prayer of outrunning motorcycles.
Think
.
Whatever thought was forming in her head came to an abrupt end when a loud
crack
came before the back window crashing in, square shards of safety glass fanning out over the girls in the back, and then the dull hollow wail of air rushing through the window. Another crack and a hole appeared in the roof, sending a thin shaft of light down to the floor.
They were shooting at the van.
Jennifer weaved from side to side, praying she could wrestle the lumbering vehicle back under control. It was overloaded, the wheel pulling at her hands, and she knew if she turned too hard or too fast the whole thing would roll over. She’d already felt the outside wheels coming up when she made the sharp turn through town.
Now the bikers were fanning out, coming up alongside. She weaved across the road from one side to the other, trying to cut off their advance, but when she went left the one to her right opened the throttle and rocketed ahead with a loud roar. Jennifer floored it, but the van barely responded. There was a sharp curve coming up, and the biker was slowing down.
He stopped in the middle of the road, drew a pistol, and braced it in his hands. Jennifer threw herself to the side, pulling Jacob down with her. He grunted and stirred just as the shot hit the windshield and punched in, cracking the glass in a spider web pattern around the gaping, whistling hole. As she let go of the wheel the van lurched to the side and headed straight for the ditch.
Jennifer snapped back up, grabbed the wheel, and yanked. The van turned the other way, or tried to. The wheels came up and the whole thing tilted, the world turning crazily as Jennifer’s voice joined the chorus of screams from the back. She could hardly see through the cracked windshield, but she heard the next shot. A second hole blew open and something brushed her face.
The wheels came down with a thump and she had to wrestle the wheel to keep the van from spinning out of control, and from the corner of her eye she saw the shredded padding where the bullet hit the back of her seat, missing her shoulder by inches.
Jacob burst into motion, grunting. He pulled both legs up and rammed them into the windshield, once, twice, and on the third time it burst free in one big piece, still stuck together by the layers of film in the safety glass. Folding on itself, the glass pane rolled over the fender and disappeared and a blast of hot morning air flooded inside, stinging Jennifer’s eyes. Jacob let go of his shoulder and jammed his hand behind her back.
He came back with her pistol, aimed, and fired twice. He must have missed, because the biker gunned his motor and rocketed forward, made a sharp turn that should have planted him on the pavement, and came straight at her.
“Floor it,” Jacob barked.
Jennifer gripped the wheel until her palms throbbed and put her foot to the floor. The van’s overloaded engine coughed and snorted and there was another crash and a metallic
spang
and more gunshots from behind. She could see the biker’s shocked face before he veered out of the way into the oncoming lane and passed by, shouting.
Jacob had her phone. He snatched it from the floor between the seats.
“Not now, Katie,” he grunted, “Put Faisal back on.”
A pause. Jacob breathed hard. There was blood leaking from under his bandage.
“No time to bother with a safehouse. We’re coming in hot. Be ready.”
“Coming in hot?” said Jennifer.
He looked at the phone. “We’re halfway there.”
The bikes filled her rear-view mirror. When she looked over her shoulder she could see their faces through the shattered out back windows. They were fanning out again, flanking the van. Jennifer weaved from side to side. There was a loud crack and a metallic
twang
and one of the girls screamed and came up clutching her leg, blood spurting through her fingers.
“They’re shooting us or they’re trying to shoot the tires,” Jacob gasped.
Jennifer looked back in the rear view mirror for a split second. Then she jammed on the brakes with both feet.
The van pitched forward and the girls in the back tumbled over each other, crying out. There was a half-silent moment, almost peaceful, before a motorcycle slammed into the back of the van with a metallic crunch and the driver’s face appeared in the smashed out window, and his gloved hands clawing for purchase before he slid out of view. Bike and rider both tumbled along the road as Jennifer tromped on the gas again.
Sputtering, the van’s engine strained even as they topped thirty-five. Something gave way with a pop and black smoke poured out from the hood, trailing off to the passenger’s side, and an oily thick smell wafted out of the vents on the dashboard. The engine sputtered and the tach needle danced as the speedometer dipped below thirty-five, then thirty.
Grunting, Jacob pulled his own pistol and held hers in his off hand. Jennifer grabbed her rifle and pulled it into the front seat.
“Prepare to defend yourself,” Jacob rasped.
The engine held on, barely. Every second the noise grew worse, the smoke thicker. The temperature gauge was rising and the oil gauge was bottoming out.
“Stay down,” Jacob barked at the girls, then twisted in his seat.
He aimed through the back windows and opened fire. The reports were deafening inside the van, leaving Jennifer’s ears ringing. Somehow she could still hear the tiny metal sounds of shell casings bouncing off the insides of the van. She saw flashes and more holes appeared in the sides of the van and the roof.
“Grab the wheel!”
Jacob gave her a dull look but nodded and grabbed hold. Jennifer twisted around him and brought the rifle to her shoulder- the wrong shoulder, on the left side. She flicked off the safety and pulled the trigger three quick times, aiming at nothing, but they were still coming. Three of them. The fifth went down when he hit the back of the van and one of the others must have stayed with him.
Through the scope lining up the shot was almost easy. It felt like she had all day. She rested the crosshairs on the rapidly turning tire of the lead bike and pulled the trigger twice, tap-tap, and saw the rubber explode and the bike twist as it went down, the other swerving away to avoid being hit by their falling comrade.
It worked. They stopped.
Jennifer dropped the rifle in disgust, a swirl in her stomach rising into her throat. She might have killed that man. Before she turned back she saw the girls holding the one who’d been hit, squeezing her leg as the blood pooled on the floor of the van.
She turned and grabbed the wheel. Jacob fell back into the seat, his chest straining against all the gear he was wearing as he breathed and clenched his shoulder, trying to staunch the bleeding.
“We’re not going to make it up the hill,” he grunted.
Then she realized they were almost in town, or the new side, anyway. The bridge loomed in the distance, the hill rose overhead, and the sprawl of the apartment complexes and trailer parks and half-finished subdivision and the shopping center glowed in the sunlight like a forbidden city. They were almost home.
First they had to get through town.
She didn’t dare stop at the light, but turned onto the Commerce Street extension without even slowing, hoping momentum would keep them rolling and praying no Paradise Falls police would spot them. She turned up the hill and the van sputtered and the engine gave its death rattle, like quarters in a dryer, and finally expired in a thicker puff of smoke.
Jacob’s big Lincoln rolled down the hill, followed by two more of the old cars from his garage. Faisal stopped the first car and leapt out as Jennifer dropped down from the van and ran around to the passenger’s side. When she opened the door, Jacob lurched and collapsed into her arms, and if she hadn’t braced herself to catch him she’d have gone down with him.
“Get him up to the house,” Jennifer shouted. “Tell me you have a doctor or somebody we can call.”
“Already taken care of. Help me with him.”
Pushing up under his good arm, she managed to get Jacob on his feet while Faisal bear-hugged him and held him up, until he collapsed in the back seat. Faisal got in and Jennifer moved to join them until Jacob’s eyes fluttered open and he grabbed her arm.
“Help the girls.”
Jennifer nodded, but first she slipped both hands under his head, pulled him up, and kissed him hard. He fell back, a dreamy look on his face as Faisal pulled ahead, whipped the Lincoln around and took off up the hill.
Jennifer, suddenly, was in charge. She’d
seen
Jacob’s men before but never talked to them. The first thing she did was climb in the van and find the girl with the wounded leg. It was worse than she thought, but all she could do now was do her best to clean the wound and wind a bandage around the leg and keep from throwing up. By the time she helped two of Jacob’s men carry the girl into the back of a car she was shaking, freezing cold despite sweltering and sweating under all her gear.
Most of the girls were conscious enough now to get out of the van and walk, but a few still had to be carried. When the van was emptied out, a wrecker pulled up the hill road to pull it away. Faisal must have called them. Jennifer rode up the hill with the last load of girls.
When she stepped into the house they were all sitting or lying in the living room. The wounded girl was on the couch, lying on a pile of towels. She was awake, blinking big brown doe eyes. Jennifer hated herself for ignoring the pain in her gaze and running upstairs instead, and into the master bedroom, but it was though her feet moved on her own.
Jacob was laid out on the bed. His gear was in a pile on the floor and he was stripped to the waist. Faisal and a woman Jennifer had never met before were attending to him, the woman working on his shoulder. She looked up, dark eyes under dark hair meeting Jennifer’s gaze.
A furious, irrational pang of jealousy hit Jennifer in the belly.
“Who are you?”
The woman looked up. She had the same lilting accent as Faisal, and now that she had a better view of her face, Jennifer saw a resemblance between the two.
“I am Faisal’s sister. Ana.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“I will be. I am a medical student.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yes.”
“Is he going to die?”
“No.”
“I am not sure he
can
die,” Faisal added, quietly. “I will be back.”
He left and Jennifer crawled across the bed to kneel over Jacob, trying not to watch as Aana packed his wound. It was bad, a deep cut to his shoulder. His chest wounds came open too, as she feared, bleeding fresh through ugly scabs.
“Jacob?”
He mumbled something and clutched at her hand. Jennifer peeled off her glove and let him squeeze her fingers. His grip was weak and his hand was cold and clammy.
We need to get to a hospital.”
“If we try he will fight and make it worse. No, we can care for him here.”
Faisal came back, carrying a cooler. Ana was already sinking an intravenous line into Jacob’s arm.
“Whose blood is that?”
“His,” said Faisal. “He keeps units of his own whole blood on hand, for situations such as this.”
Jennifer blinked. “Seriously?”
“‘Be prepared’,” Jacob muttered.
Jennifer smiled in spite of herself.
“Oh God,” she said, “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t let that girl grab me, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”
Jacob shook his head.
Ana looked at her. “You should wait outside. You are in the way.”
“I’m not leaving him.”
“As you wish.”
Jennifer stayed and watched the entire gruesome process of packing and bandaging the wound and inserting the intravenous line. Jacob stirred and she managed to get a pillow under his head. After a while some color started coming back to his face, unfortunately as Ana was stitching up his chest and stomach.
When she finished, she looked at Jennifer.
“You must make sure he does not move.”
Jennifer nodded. “I’ll do my best. You know how he is.”
“No,” Ana said firmly,
“You will not permit him to move.”
“I’ll do what I want,” Jacob grunted, but didn’t move.
His arm lifted up, his good arm, and he slipped his hand under her hair and cupped her cheek. She held his wrist in both hands. Now his skin was warm and she leaned on his palm, and smiled.
“Go check on the girls.”
“In a minute.”
Finally she managed to draw away and head back down the stairs. The girl with the leg wound was gone.
“Where…” Jennifer started.
“Hospital,” said Ana. “Her wound was too severe. My brother drove her. When he returns we will make arrangements for the others. They will need detoxification and other medical attention. Tests for infections.”