Matt Hilton - Blood and Ashes

Vince shrugged his shoulders. Then he glanced at his girl. ‘Trust me, babe, it’s just the way it’s gotta be.’

‘Fair enough, but if any of those, like, wieners with ears gets in our way again, they’re going to be sorry.’

‘I’m with you, honey cakes. But right now, we’d better catch the family. If they get away Gant won’t be pleased.’

‘To hell with him. Why’s he the boss? You’re, like, ten times the man he’ll ever be.’

Vince didn’t reply. Let Sonya say what she wanted, but he wasn’t going to mention anything that might get back to Gant before he was ready. He knew what that would bring him: his head handed to him on a plate.

He concentrated on catching the minivan. Whoever was driving — Vince guessed it was the stranger with the killer’s eyes — was doing an expert job of it and it wouldn’t be easy. He looked in his mirrors, saw that the black van was following, and from concealment further down the road, other vehicles were joining the pursuit. Gant and the others were coming fast.

The minivan was a hundred yards ahead but the gap was closing. Sonya leaned out of the window, fired a volley at the tyres. Vince didn’t comment, but the likelihood of puncturing a tyre at this range and this angle was next to zero; if they were alongside with a shotgun maybe, but not from behind with a handgun. Vince looked for his own gun. Miraculously after the spin the Ford had completed, the gun was still between his thighs. He picked it up and wedged it out his window. Left-handed he’d hit nothing viable, but at least he could lay down enough firepower to keep them moving in the right direction. He fired a half-dozen rounds, saw that, despite the jouncing of the car and the distance, most of them did strike the metalwork.

The minivan swerved, then straightened. Its forward momentum was disrupted and the Ford gained another twenty yards.

‘Get ready, babe, I’m gonna try and get alongside them.’

Sonya slapped in a fresh magazine. ‘Do that and I’ll take the driver out.’

‘No,’ Vince said. ‘Do that and they’ll roll. We don’t want ’em all to die.’

‘Yeah, we do. What’s wrong with you, Vince? Lost your sense of fun?’

‘Just do as I ask, babe. We want to stop the van. Shoot by all means, but don’t shoot-’

‘The brats? Gant said that they all have to die. Are you calling the shots after all, Vince?’

Vince frowned. He wasn’t going to mention the kids. After a second or so, he said, ‘I was gonna say “the driver”. Don’t shoot the driver.’

Sonya looked at him. Her face had gone very still. ‘No, you weren’t.’

Vince flicked a self-conscious smile. Busted, he thought.

Sonya snorted. ‘You don’t want me to shoot Millie. You want that bitch all to yourself.’

Vince touched the claw marks on his face, said, ‘Can you blame me?’

She shrugged, sucked her nose chain between her teeth. All coy again, she grinned. ‘As long as I get to do the children, Vince, I don’t care. I’ve never killed a brat before.’

Trees flashed by, twin walls of greens and browns and everything in between. The road surface was asphalt, but the further we progressed it became ill maintained and was warped and rutted. Compounding the difficulty of controlling the vehicle on the damaged road surface was that the rain was growing heavier, forming pools and deep channels that sucked at the tyres and almost threw them out of line. Heavy droplets battered the windscreen, and it was a fight the wipers could barely win. The bullets fired at us added to the effort of keeping the minivan on track and at a steady speed.

I didn’t complain, just tried to stay focused on the road ahead. Even a momentary distraction would be enough to send the vehicle into a roll that would do the job for those trying to kill Don Griffiths and his family. If anything the bad road and the rain were allies: they meant those following couldn’t be too reckless either.

After almost ramming into the black van, and being forced to take diversionary tactics, I’d just kept going. I’d no idea where we were or where the road would lead to. Both Don and Millie had been unhelpful with directions, concentrating instead on calming and consoling the children. It wasn’t an easy task with bullets ricocheting off the vehicle. At least the shooting had slowed over the last few minutes, and the only thing coming our way now was an occasional round fired in frustration.

It felt a little compromising, sitting in the driver’s position. Normally I used a car with the steering wheel on the right, but this being an American car it was on the opposite side. I could shoot with my left hand, but nowhere near as well as with the right. Along the way I’d juggled the assault rifle over my shoulder, passing it back to Millie so that I’d have room to use the SIG if it became necessary. For now I concentrated on driving.

Beside me, Don finally settled back into his seat. Millie had the children under control, and she’d got them to crouch down between the seats to afford them a little more protection. She lay across the back seat, keeping her head down, but also so that she could touch both children to help comfort them.

I checked the mirrors — the ones that hadn’t been shot off — and saw that four vehicles were doggedly on our tail. The black van had been left behind somewhere along the way. Either that or it had cut down one of the forest trails to try to intercept us further on. That hardly seemed possible, seeing as the road we were on had stretched arrow-straight for the last couple miles. Even as I thought it, though, I saw warning signs showing a series of bends ahead. Also, we were beginning to climb.

‘Where does this road lead to?’

Don shook his head. ‘No idea. I’ve never come this way before. I’ve never had a reason to.’

From the back, Millie said, ‘I’ve been out this way. Me and Brook used to come up here hiking.’

‘So what can we expect?’ I asked.

‘The road climbs up into the mountains. There used to be logging camps up there, but they’ve all shut down. There’s a hydro-electricity plant further on, but the road ends there.’

‘Is the plant manned?’

‘I don’t know. I imagine it is, but we never got that far, I’ve only seen it from a distance.’

The plant sounded like our best hope of help. At the very least I might be able to force an office door and get to a telephone. ‘How far?’

‘Twenty miles, maybe more.’

Forget that plan then. At this rate it would take us twenty minutes to get there. Those pursuing us wouldn’t wait so long to make their next move.

‘We’ll have to chance one of the logging camps.’

‘They’re closed,’ Millie reminded me.

‘There could still be a telephone hooked up, or a radio or something.’ In truth I wasn’t thinking about phones; I was looking for somewhere that I could mount a defence. Maybe a logging camp would offer hiding places for the children while I could take the fight back to the pack hunting us. I decided that giving the family hope of rescue would stop them from further panic. I met Don’s eye. The old man knew what I was thinking. He busied himself with the assault rifle, getting ready to help if a last stand was unavoidable.

‘Long time since you’ve held one of those, I bet,’ I said.

‘I’d be happier if I never had to handle one ever again. But now that things are looking inevitable… well, I’ll do the best I can.’

I touched the old man on the forearm. ‘I know you will.’

There’d been bad blood between the two of us, but just like me, Don had no real control over the decisions of our superiors. Don’s intelligence had caused the deaths of innocents, but he couldn’t be held responsible for the bullets spewed from ill-guided weapons. I saw that now and knew that my enmity shouldn’t be directed at him, but at our controllers at Arrowsake. It was time to put our differences aside.