Jeremy Robinson - SecondWorld

Outside the car, the roar of the approaching SUV echoed through the forest. Miller waved toward the road. “Run!”

Adler took off, running faster than Miller thought possible for a woman her size. Of course, when life hangs in the balance, most people can put a little extra pepper in their step. Miller, on the other hand, stood his ground and aimed back down the road. The SUV came thundering up over the rise and barreled toward him. A man leaned out of the passenger’s window and opened fire with a submachine gun. Rounds sliced through the small car, but couldn’t find Miller positioned behind the engine block and far-side tire.

As the shooter ducked away to reload, Miller took aim, held his breath, and squeezed off a series of rounds. The first four shots missed the target, shattering the headlight and pinging off the thick metal wheel well. But the fifth shot found nothing but tire. The effect was immediate and violent. The tire rapidly deflated under the SUV’s immense weight. The rim bit into and shredded the rubber. The vehicle tilted toward the lake and the driver, fearing a twenty-foot drop, overcompensated. The SUV turned hard to the right, the tire tore away, and the rim dug into the pavement.

The giant SUV launched into the air, spinning like a flicked coin. The gunman was launched from the open window like a rag doll from a cannon. He flew three hundred feet, snapping dry branches from pine trees before having his head removed by a thick maple limb. Blood sprayed from his body as it spiraled toward the earth and landed with a thud in the forest’s thick leaf litter.

The aerial arc of the SUV was much shorter, but no less dramatic as it flipped over the Mini Cooper. The roof of the SUV crushed the Cooper’s as it rolled and nearly struck Miller, but its momentum carried it forward. The SUV bounced off the road behind Miller and spun into the open air above the lake. The vehicle fell, and with a loud whoosh, struck the lake’s surface upside down. Water poured in through the open windows. Thirty seconds later, the SUV slid beneath the lapping waves.

Miller watched the SUV sink.

Adler ran up to him. “Holy shit!”

He just nodded and kept watching. After a minute, he felt satisfied that no one would be surfacing and checked the Glock’s clip. One round left. He slapped the clip back in and started jogging toward Huber’s road. “Let’s go.”

Adler followed, and had no trouble keeping pace. “You have nothing to say about what just happened?”

He looked at her. Her posture was perfect, her steps even. “You’re a runner?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Endurance?”

“I’ve run a few marathons.”

“Good,” he said, before picking up his pace. She fell in line and became too winded to talk. There was no way to know if a second crew would be sent out, or if they were already on the way. And they still needed to find Huber, get him someplace safe, and hopefully get some answers to a growing list of questions.

They crossed a small stone bridge onto the island. The road became dirt and skirted the shoreline. They followed the road and soon came to the one and only house—Huber’s.

The average-sized log home was in stellar condition and situated in the middle of a cleared section of land that ran down to the lake’s edge. Miller saw an empty dock and feared Huber might actually be out on the lake, which would complicate things. Further out on the water he saw two men fishing from a canoe, but neither looked like an old man.

After slowing his pace and catching his breath, Miller entered the paved, and empty, driveway. A stainless steel carport stood to the side of the driveway, but there was no way to see inside without making noise. Weapon in hand, Miller took the three steps up onto the farmer’s porch and silently stepped up to the red door. He gently took hold of the handle and turned. The door opened silently.

Adler stood next to him. “It’s unlocked?” she whispered.

The same thing had concerned Miller, too, but then he once again remembered they were in the woods of New Hampshire. He suspected they’d find most doors unlocked, especially if the residents were home.

Miller and Adler crept into the house. It smelled of pine and woodsmoke and the temperature felt ten degrees cooler than outside. The front hall, which held a coatrack and welcome mat, opened into a dining area on the left and a small kitchen on the right. The table was thick and rough, sporting two long benches like a picnic table. The marble kitchen counters were spotless and reflected sunlight streaming in through the window over the sink. Directly ahead of them was a long living room that ran the length of the house. Mounted buck busts lined the outside wall above a line of windows that provided a stunning view of the lake. And it was that view that nearly cost Adler her life.

She stepped into the living room, eyes on the window.

Two metallic clicks pricked Miller’s ears before he entered the room. “Elizabeth, freeze,” he said.

“What? Why?”

The voice, that of an old man, came from the corner of the room, behind Adler. “Because, fräulein, I’m still deciding whether or not I should kill you.”

Miller hung back in the kitchen, out of view. Adler stood rigid in the middle of the living room, her back to the man that had just threatened her life.

“I’ve been expecting you for some days now,” the man said.

“Expecting me?” Adler said.

“ Ja. I knew you would come once I saw the shade effect over Miami. Though I must admit I am surprised you are a woman.”

“Huber,” Miller said.

“Don’t do anything foolish,” Huber warned.

Miller eased toward the living room. “I think you have us confused with someone else.”

“You take me for a fool?”

“I’m going to walk in with my back to you.” Miller eased into the living room. He held his gun out first and when he felt Huber could see it, he ejected the clip and dropped the weapon onto the floor. “I’m unarmed.”

After three slow steps, Miller stopped next to Adler, his arms raised. Huber could kill them both with two quick pulls of the trigger, but Miller had to risk it.

“I heard gunshots from the road,” Huber said. “Who did you kill?”

“Your neighbors are fine, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Miller said.

“They have kids,” Huber conceded.

“I can’t say the same for the four men that were coming to kill you,” Miller said.

“How do I know you’re not here to kill me?”

Because you’d already be dead, Miller thought, but said, “If you’ll let me turn around, I can show you.”

“Slowly.”

Miller turned around, keeping his hands high and his motions slow. As he turned, Miller looked at the line of mounted deer busts. If they were Huber’s kills, the man knew how to shoot. Giving him a reason to pull the trigger would be a very bad idea.

Huber sat in shadow, but the double-barreled shotgun was easy enough to see. And while he couldn’t clearly see Huber’s face, Miller knew the old man had seen his. The shotgun lowered slightly as Huber leaned forward. He stood and walked into the light. His face was old and weathered, but his spectacled eyes burned with intensity. A full head of gray hair and a week’s worth of stubble framed his confused expression. “Am I supposed to recognize you?”

“Most people seem to, these days,” Miller said with a frown. If Huber didn’t recognize him, his plan would go up in smoke. “My face has been on TV a lot lately.”

“Do you see a TV?” Huber asked.

Shit. Miller didn’t.

“Newspaper?” Miller asked.

Huber shook his head, no.

“How do you know what’s happening in the world?” Adler asked.