Paradise Falls (37 page)

Ten girls lay on old mattresses, discolored from age and filth, some with springs poking through here and there. A few thin blankets were spread out on top. The girls huddled under the rest. Half were asleep, the other half weren’t asleep but weren’t awake either. The only one that stirred was a tall, thin girl with red hair that lifted up and looked at Jennifer and Jacob with glassy eyes and a soft expression, like she had trouble moving her face.

“Wha…” she managed.

Jennifer looked around the rest of the trailer. The guts had all been torn out. There was no kitchen, and the inner walls were bare steel studs holding up the ceiling. The far end was partitioned off by a sheet hung with a string and clothespins. On the other side was a bunch of buckets all packed together, a big bottle of spring water and a rubber tub just wide enough to stand in. It all stank.

The girl sat up and clutched her head.

“What’s going on? Why are you here?”

“We’re going to get you out,” Jacob said.

“You can’t, my sister.”

“We’ll get her, too,” said Jacob. He turned to Jennifer. “Stay inside by the door and keep me covered. I’ll take the others when they get back.”

Jennifer nodded and crouched by the door as Jacob jogged across the clearing and hid in the corn.

The girl tugged her arm. Jennifer held the rifle close and looked back at her.

“Stay calm, hon. We’ll get her.”

The girl huddled by the door. A puff of dust rose in the distance, rising into a plume like smoke as the van came rolling down the path. Jennifer kept the screen door propped open, ready throw it ride and raise her rifle. It was heavy in her hands and felt hot to the touch, almost like a living thing. The idea of aiming it at another human being made her stomach flutter. Jacob would take them from the side while Jennifer fired off a warning shot and covered the driver and the other man from inside the trailer. She wasn’t going to have to kill anyone. Still, her hands were sweating inside her gloves.

The van rolled out into the clearing and drove up to the trailer, and stopped. The passenger, a heavyset biker in a bandana and sleeveless vest, dropped out and looked over at the makeshift dog house.

“Hey, where’s-“

Jacob charged, rushing out of the corn. Jennifer raised the rifle.

A pair of thin, skinny arms looped around her neck and yanked her back.

The rifle fell and clattered on the bare plywood floor. The girl had Jennifer around the neck, squeezing with a shocking strength. Jennifer forced her chin down, or she’d be choked out. She rolled, pulling at the girl. She couldn’t see outside anymore.

“Get off!” Jennifer snapped, pulling at her arms.

“They’ll hurt my sister!”

Jennifer kicked her legs and rolled, pinning the girl down. With a deep breath she grabbed her wrists and pulled. The girl shrieked and kicked and thrashed, and Jennifer was sure she was trying to bite. Rolling again, she tossed the girl off, got on her feet, and ignored a flaring pain in her ankle. As Jennifer seized the rifle, the girl pulled at it, wrapping her fingers around the buttstock.

Jennifer snapped her head away from the muzzle as the rifle came around to point at her, held on for dear life and grabbed the pistol grip, and twisted with both arms, wrenching it out of the girl’s grip. She was sobbing and wailing now, her face beet red.

“Please,” she whimpered.

“Stay down,” Jennifer said, more harshly than she meant to.

Turning, she pushed the door open.

A gunshot rang out under the clear sky.

10.

Jacob bolted out of the corn at full tilt, rage a hot cloud in his chest, sweat stinging his eyes. He went for the driver first, pulling him away. He was middling height, heavyset, and he had a nickel-plated .45 tucked in his belt. He went for it, and Jacob did not throw but rammed the knife through his palm and the gun dropped and fell to the dirt. Howling, the biker snapped his head forward and smashed his forehead right into Jacob’s nose.

Pain exploded through his head and he felt the hot rush of blood filling his mask. The biker reached left-handed and drew the bowie knife hanging from his belt, and shoved it forward in a clumsy thrust. It skated over Jacob’s body armor.

No cut, but he felt it all the same. The armor kept the edge from slicing, but it was still a steel rod jammed into his stomach, right where one of Ellison’s blows landed. It knocked the wind right out of him.

Jacob went down, but he took the biker with him, pulled him down by the belt and they rolled. The world spun around him, tilting crazily as pain throbbed in his face and side. Close in, there was no art or grace to grappling. He shoved aside a knife thrust, counting on the armor on his forearm to turn the blade, and it did, but his opponent was good. He’d done this before.

The blade raked over Jacob’s shoulder, opening the unarmored compression fabric and the skin underneath, and Jacob grunted under his mask and tasted his own blood. The biker raised the knife high and turned it, holding it with both hands, and plunged down. The sharp point came surging at Jacob’s face, splitting into two as his vision fuzzed.

He caught the biker’s wrists just before the tip of the knife rammed into his forehead and shoved back with all his might, but he was tired, his body was a map of agony, and the biker was putting his whole weight behind it now, rising up to lean on Jacobs hands and slowly push them down. With every tiny sliver of a second that passed the blade moved closer and closer, blurring as it moved to the blind spot between his eyes.

With a hollow grunt of effort, Jacob snapped to the side, moving his head one way and his hands the other. The knife move and he felt the dull back side slide over his cheek bone. If it had been the edge it would have opened him right up. The blade stuck in the dirt and now the biker was off balance, and Jacob kneed him hard right in the balls at the same instant he drove the heel of his hand into his nose.

Howling and clutching wildly at his face and his crotch, the biker rolled over.

A shadow fell over him.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.”

There were two of them, and Jennifer’s warning shot was not coming.

Jacob’s head thumped the ground. He looked up at a Glock, upside down. The man holding it had him covered, cold. He was standing too far back for Jacob to grab at his ankles, and even if he was close enough, it felt like there were lead weights around Jacob’s wrists.

Warmth spread on his left arm as the wicking material soaked up the blood. The cut on his shoulder was deeper than he thought. He should have armored his whole arm, damn it.

Jacob froze.

The other one was getting up. He was bleeding like a stuck pig from his nose and clawed at it with his hand, turning his fingers and his arm blood red. He got up and scooped up the pistol he’d dropped, checked it, and aimed it at Jacob’s belly.

“You alone?”

“Yes,” Jacob wheezed.

“You fucked up. We know who you are. The boss has a bounty on you. A hundred thousand, an extra fifty if we bring you in alive. Double if we bring in the bitch. She’s here somewhere. Where the hell is she?”

Jacob kept silent.

“Don’t matter,” said the biker, crouching down. “We’ll get her sooner or later.”

He was tired. Very tired. So his next move took a lot of effort. He rolled, and threw his body into the biker’s legs. His gun went off, deafeningly loud, a crack followed by ringing in Jacob’s ears as they tumbled together. He could hardly see, his shoulder throbbed, all his bruises hammered him with agony and he was sure his chest wounds had come open, too.

The world was a jumble of turning and shouting and the flash of sunlight on nickel as Jacob shoved the gun away, holding the biker’s arm by the wrist, turning. There was another bang, distant through the ringing in his ears, and a hot spray hit his mask just as a sledgehammer hit his chest and knocked all the wind out of him. The biker slumped heavily on top of him, his face a glassy mask.

He’d been shot in the back, and the bullet passed clean through and hit Jacob in the chest, right in the central plate of his armor. His fellow Leviathan shot through him, whether he meant to or not.

 
Warmth spread liquid over Jacob’s chest, his wounds now open for sure. He wrenched the pistol out of the boneless grip of the dying man lying on top of him.

The screen door banged open and Jennifer jogged out a few steps and aimed her rifle.

“Drop it!” she screeched, holding her weapon tight to her shoulder.

The standing biker stared at his gun for a half second and then turned, snapping his piece around to aim at Jennifer.

“Put it down,” she said.

There was a soft click as she thumbed off her safety. The biker aimed his pistol at her and she sighted over the scope at him, her finger trembling over the trigger.

Jacob made a decision. He aimed, angling the gun so it wouldn’t hit her, and pulled the trigger. It went off with another earsplitting bang and the biker folded, his leg going out from under him as he fell into a screaming heap on the ground. Jennifer ran over and kicked the biker’s gun away from his hand, dancing lightly out of the way as he feebly grabbed at her ankle.

Then she pulled the dead man off Jacob, grunting with effort. When his bulk was off Jacob’s chest she pulled her hands back and stared at her fingers, at the blood on her gloves.

“Jennifer!”

The other biker snapped up and swung at her with a knife. She yelped and jerked out of the way and the blade hit her shin guard. Jacob launched up and came down, pinning the knife to the ground. He pressed the muzzle of his stolen gun to the biker’s head.

“Don’t move. Tie him, from my pouch.”

She snapped into action, crouching to pull the zip ties from his belt, and knelt to tie the biker’s wrists together as he writhed and cursed, spitting on the ground. The wound on his leg was bad.

Jacob got up on his knees and sagged, leaning to one side.

“Oh my God,” Jennifer whimpered, “Your arm.”

“I’m fine. We’ll patch it up. Have to get the girls.”

“This looks bad.”

“Clot pad on my belt. Left side in the pouch at my hip. Get it.”

She nodded and rifled through his belt, pulled out the pad and tore open the wrapper. Wincing, she pushed it down hard on his shoulder and Jacob fought to remain silent the pain lancing down his arm from the pressure. He pulled out a roll of medical tape with his good hand and Jennifer taped down the bandage. He needed to put pressure on it, but they needed to
go
.

Slowly, he got to his feet and leaned on the van.

The girls were all still inside, staring at him. He scanned their faces, his vision hazing. One of them was the spitting image of the redhead. Had to be her sister. He turned to Jennifer.

“Have to get the rest, fast. Have to go.”

“Sit down.”

“Not yet.”

Jacob lurched over to the trailer and pulled at the screen door. He ground his teeth in frustration and just yanked it off, the hinges shrieking in protest before tearing free of the rotten frame. He threw it aside and lumbered inside, stopping to tuck his left hand in his pocket to keep his arm out of the way. It felt like his whole arm was slick with blood.

Jennifer stared at the wound. The clotting agent on the bandage was not up to this. He was bleeding badly.

“Concentrate,” he said. “Help me with them.”

Jennifer darted around the room, waking the ones she could, leading them by the arm if they could walk, speaking in soft tones and a reassuring voice. The redheaded girl was the most awake, staring, sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” she wailed.

“Don’t be sorry,” Jacob rasped, “Be helpful. Help us.”

Jacob supported one girl under the shoulders and walked her out to the van. Normally he’d just pick them up and carry them, but the unconscious girls had to be dragged. With one hand and Jennifer’s help, he dragged the filthy mattresses over to the van and the other girls helped pull the unconscious ones inside.

By the time they were all in, Jacob was ready to collapse, fighting every second to keep his eyes open. The girls were packed in the back of the van, at least twenty of them. He’d lost count. They were piled on top of each other, huddled up. The two sisters were wailing and sobbing and holding each other.

He moved towards the driver’s side but Jennifer pushed him onto the passenger’s seat instead.

They were going to make it. They were getting the girls out.

This could be a beautiful death.

“Stay awake,” Jennifer snapped. “Get pressure on that wound.”

It hurt. It hurt to move his good arm, it made his chest throb and carved lines of agony across his middle, and it hurt worse when he took a sterile pad from his belt and shoved it down hard on his shoulder.

“Phone, call Faisal. Tell everything.”

Jennifer nodded. As soon as she’d pulled the van off the dirt track onto the road she yanked her mask off and dialed the phone, pressing it to her ear.

“Faisal,” she snapped. “We’re in trouble. Jacob’s hurt, bad. We’re in a white van with the girls. We need help. We’re on our way through Port Carol…” she trailed off.

Jacob wavered in the seat and dipped to the side.

“He’s lost a lot of blood and I’ve got at least twenty girls here and they’ve all been injected with something. I need to know where to go and we need a doctor. Doctors. Help me.”

Jacob’s eyes started to close and she reached over and shook him.

“Hey,” she shouted, “Wake up.”

Jacob shook his head. “Tell him to meet us with another vehicle. We need to ditch this thing.”

Jennifer’s eyes snapped to the rear view mirror and she looked back over her shoulder, wide-eyed with panic.

Her cry of
“Oh, shit!”
was all but drowned out by the roar of motorcycle engines.

Jacob turned in the seat, nearly falling down onto the center console, and looked back. There were five of them, or maybe six, or maybe just three and his vision was blurred too much. Jennifer put the pedal to the floor but there was no way the overloaded van would have any chance of outrunning a motorcycle. Something clattered to the floor.