Secession: The Storm (42 page)

“Zach?” shrieked Cheyenne’s voice. “Zach, is that you?”

“Yes. Keep on walking and get ready to drive the truck.”

Her eyes were wide with fear as she drew closer, flashing an expression of relief and puzzlement as she passed.

Zach continued his steady march toward the kidnappers, holding the folder of documents. He managed another dozen steps when a shout issued another command. “That’s far enough, Ranger,” boomed a somewhat familiar voice. “Take off your jacket and show us you’re not armed.”

“Major?” Zach questioned, halting in the middle of the lane. “Major Alcorn? What the fuck are you doing out here, sir?”

The low chuckle that followed sent chills up Zach’s spine. “Oh come on, Zach. I thought you would have put the pieces together by now. Who do you think killed Abe Hendricks? Think about when I walked up on you and that FBI puke having a free for all. You never even noticed the rifle I was holding, did you?”

Zach had relived that moment a hundred times. He searched his memory, trying to retrieve the image, but couldn’t. “No, sir, I didn’t. But I still don’t understand…”

“You’re about the luckiest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen, Bass. After you avoided Buffalo at the junkyard and my friends in Washington, I had to up my game. Those documents are never going to see the light of day. I just can’t have that.”

“I still don’t get it, Major.”

Again, a low, evil sneer echoed through the lane. “Zachariah Bass, you know you never spent much time at the head of the class. No matter – I’m done talking.”

Zach heard the sound of a shotgun’s pump chambering a round.

“Run, Zach!” screamed Sam’s voice from the woods, followed instantly by the sound of a heavy object hitting the ground and rolling across the gravel.

Zach spun away, shielding his eyes as the flash-bang grenade exploded.

Despite his standing more than 20 yards from the detonation, the ranger was briefly stunned by the blast. Six million candelas of white light combined with 180 decibels of thunder split the air, enough released energy to temporarily scramble the brain of anyone nearby.

Zach was darting for the truck as best he could, his gait wobbly and unsure due to the jumbled fluid between his ears. The Texas Ranger sensed, more than saw Sam scurrying slightly ahead of him in the same direction after tossing the device.   

“Go! Go! Go!” the two officers screamed at a still-bewildered Cheyenne. Sam reached the truck just then, hopping into the passenger side, front seat, slamming the door behind her. The movement of the truck provided just the catalyst the traumatized Cheyenne needed to snap her out of her daze. She jerked the truck into drive, the pickup’s back wheels beginning to throw dirt just as Zach dove over the tailgate and through the narrow opening into the bed.

The ranger was tossed from side to side as Cheyenne fishtailed back onto the blacktop road, the sound of the squealing rubber and a racing engine making it clear that a high-speed getaway was in progress.

Jolted by the less-than cushy ride over the rear suspension, Zach managed to right himself and regroup, wondering how long it would be before Sam instructed his ex-girlfriend to stop and let him out of the back.

After a few minutes of obviously traveling at extremely high speeds, Zach began to worry.
Why weren’t they stopping?
A distant popping noise, followed by the loud thwack of a bullet hitting the tailgate solved the mystery. Someone was shooting at them.

Zach pushed up the bed’s cover with his head, the sound of rushing wind filling the confined space. Peering through the narrow opening, he immediately understood why Cheyenne hadn’t let off the gas. There was a car just a short distance behind them, at least one more beyond that.

Two more bullets tore into the bed of the truck just as Zach spied the muzzle flashes and outline of a man firing from the pursuing car’s passenger window.

Ducking back down, he reached for his .45, but then realized he’d left it in the cab. A few seconds later, his hand brushed against the rifle case.

Zach smiled, unzipping the AR15. With the kidnapper’s urgent demand, there hadn’t been time to return the carbine to his safe. For once, the combination of a hectic schedule, the firearm’s qualification requirement, and his absentmindedness had paid off.

There were several full magazines in the case’s side compartment. Slamming one into the rifle, he released the bolt and turned on the holographic sight. “I’ve got a very unpleasant surprise for you, traitor,” he hissed.

Using his head to lift the cover just enough for the rifle’s barrel to clear, Zach tried to center the red dot on the windshield of the pursuing sedan. The moving truck and bumpy road made holding his aim impossible, but the lawman didn’t think pinpoint accuracy would be a critical consideration.

Flicking off the safety, he began squeezing the trigger.

Zach jumped at the report of his first shot, the confined space and metal walls of the pickup’s bed amplifying the small carbine sound like a howitzer. He recovered quickly, the realization that being deaf and alive was better than the alternative.

He began firing again, unsure where his shots were impacting, but pouring round after round into the space between the chase car’s headlights.

The driver’s first reaction was to brake, but it didn’t do him any good. Zach held his fire when the car swerved left, and then hard right into a field bordering the road. The change in direction was too fast, the momentum too great for the pursuer. The ranger smiled when he saw the vehicle’s lights begin somersaulting across the crops.

Evidently, the driver of the second car didn’t understand what had just happened to his mate. Now finding himself directly behind the prey, he accelerated to move up and continue the fight.

Zach’s rifle began spitting high-velocity lead into the newcomer, just as Cheyenne drove over an extremely rough stretch of road. Cursing the Louisiana highway department for the lack of maintenance, the Texan tried his best to hit the pursuer, but doubted he’d done much damage.

The rough road and missed shots evidently prompted the chase car to realize what had happened to its friend. Zach was disappointed when his target slowed considerably, drifting back to a safer distance.

Deciding he was wasting ammo, Zach stopped firing, watching the headlights and contemplating what Major Alcorn would try next.

As they sped along with the pursuing car keeping its distance, Zach had the time to evaluate the situation tactically. He knew the trio had a couple of distinct things working in its favor. The first was his truck’s size, its clearance, horsepower, and 4-wheel drive giving them an advantage off-road.

The second was that Sam’s presence had surprised the kidnappers. The adductors had to be asking themselves where the detective had come from, and how many more helpers Zach had waiting in the shadows. A small thing, but helpful nonetheless.

His thought process was interrupted by the slowing of the truck. Zach’s heart raced for a moment, thinking a stray bullet had damaged the engine or hit a tire. He readied to start blasting away at the distant headlights, but then felt the pickup sway as Cheyenne negotiated a curve.

He watched the lights following them blink and flutter, evidence of trees and other undergrowth hindering his line of sight now that the road wasn’t perfectly straight. At one point, they completely disappeared for a few seconds.

Zach also noted there were still two cars in pursuit.

Sam’s voice sounded over the wind, “You okay back there, Ranger?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s the plan?” Zach shouted back.

“We were hoping you had one,” the detective responded.

“Keep heading toward Texas,” he replied. “We need to take them off-road. We’ll have the advantage then.”

“Gotcha.”

A few moments later, the truck slowed even further. “There’s a little town up here,” Sam yelled back.

Zach wanted Cheyenne out of danger. The girl was an innocent, and the chances of a stray bullet or a collision were increasing with every passing mile. An idea popped into his head.

“Let me out,” he called, stuffing his pockets with spare magazines and a bottle of water. “You guys bust it for the border, and I’ll hold them off. I’ll make my way home somehow.”

“Bullshit!” Sam yelled back. “I’m staying with you.”

“No, you have to get Cheyenne back on our home turf. Once you’re in Texas, you can protect her and send reinforcements if needed. Now stop this damn truck, and let me out.”

For a moment, Zach didn’t think the two women in the cab were going to do as he wished. He could see a scattering of houses, a church, and other signs of civilization passing by. Just as he was preparing to launch into an angry tirade, he felt the truck braking hard.

The ranger was hopping out of the back before the pickup reached a complete stop. He hit the pavement and instantly made a run for what appeared to be a closed gas station. At the early hour, no one had been privy to his exit.

Alcorn’s posse wasn’t that far behind, entering the town just as his pickup barked the tires, accelerating away in a blue cloud of burning rubber and dust.

Zach centered the rifle’s red dot on the approaching car and then adjusted the shot according to his estimate for a reasonable lead. He started squeezing the trigger.

Nothing happened for the first few shots. Just when he thought his bullets had completely missed the racing car, the vehicle swerved sharply, scraping one of the town’s utility poles along the passenger side. Zach rapid fired at that first car, his barrel tracing as the vehicle drew abreast and following with shot after shot as it zoomed by.

The second pursuer stopped well short of Zach’s position, distant dome lights announcing that at least one person was exiting the vehicle.

Now with foes at two angles off his position, Zach decided to buy the girls some time, fading back into the shadows and sneaking into the town. With any luck, the gunfire would motivate the local residents to call the Louisiana authorities. He was pretty sure Alcorn and his henchmen wouldn’t want to deal with the cops.

Zach moved down what could only be described as a typical, small town residential street, keeping away from the pools of illumination generated by the corner streetlights.

Dogs were barking all over town, a few windows glowing bright as the sleepy citizens tried to figure out what was going on.

The ranger kept moving, knowing time was on his side. A little less than 10 minutes passed before he heard the first siren, wailing its announcement in the distance. It soon had company.

“Heh, heh. That would be the calvary. Alcorn and his fellow criminals will bug out now,” the Texan whispered to himself. “They won’t want to explain what’s going on to the locals.”

He identified a good hiding spot, a small, dark grassy gap between two garages.
The perfect vantage, but thank gawd I won’t have to be here long,
he mused. Putrid-smelling trashcans lined one exterior wall, offering excellent cover, and there didn’t appear to be canines living on this block. One of the two houses attached to the garage hide was for sale and seemed to be vacant.

Ducking down behind the cans, Zach waited, heeding the symphony of sirens streaming his way. “I’d give anything to see Alcorn’s face,” he whispered.

The first patrol car rolled slowly down the street a few minutes later, its blue lights flashing, the driver-controlled spotlight searching yards and alleys. Zach considered surrendering, but decided to wait it out a little longer before making a move. Alcorn was one of the smartest men he’d worked with, and there was no telling what that crafty son-of-a-bitch would come up with.

Zach stayed put, seeing no reason to expose himself via any sort of movement. He had an excellent tactical position, good egress, and was within 100 yards of deep woods should he be discovered. He knew that most criminals gave themselves away by moving. He’d seen it a dozen times, the mere passing of a police car flushing out a fugitive like a bird dog scattering quail on the prairie. It didn’t matter if it were a city street or the West Texas desert, criminals evidently became nervous, scared, or impatient and would flee a perfectly good hiding spot. He wasn’t going to be so stupid.