Mark Young - Off the grid

She nodded, moving in the direction he pointed.

Turning his attention toward the gunman, Gerrit snaked his away along the floor until he reached the far wall to his left. This room seemed to be devoted to storage. Boxes of office supplies stored on metal shelves the full length of the room. A wide path cut down the center of the room-where he had seen Kane and gunman at the far end-and two narrower aisles along each wall. Only three paths to the gunman. He heard a door slam and assumed Kane had left. Leaving one man-armed.

Gerrit inched forward down the center aisle, moving slower as he drew near the gunman’s position. Every few aisles, he would dart to the left, using cardboard cartons of supplies, stacked high on the shelves, as cover. He estimated Kane’s man was crouching about ten yards away. Or dead. The gunman hadn’t appeared in the open since Gerrit heard banging on the door.

Left his bodyguard behind. Kane-the hero.

Gerrit found a large box of computer paper. Above it, he had a clean shot in front of the doorway through which Kane exited. The gunman must be to the right or left of that door. Gerrit reached up and grabbed a coffee mug someone left on the shelf.

Quietly raising himself, he positioned his rifle on a box for support, aiming it about where he thought the gunman might be hiding. Once he had the muzzle pointed down range, he hurled the coffee cup through the air.

He tightened his grip on the weapon, sighting down the barrel. The cup shattered against the far wall.

The gunman lunged into the open and fired down the center aisle past Gerrit. The man fired fully automatic, shooting blindly.

It was all Gerrit needed. He squeezed one round off, and the target lurched backward. Richard Kane just lost one more gunman.

Rising, Gerrit motioned to Alena toward the far door. He knelt by the fallen guard and felt his pulse. Dead. He nodded at Alena.

She dashed toward the remaining door and hurriedly entered the password.

The lock snapped open like the others. He flung the door open toward Alena, who held it open with her foot. He held up three fingers-one at a time. When the third finger rose, he rushed in as they crisscrossed through the doorway. No gunfire. He froze, searching for movement ahead.

Gerrit peered through a reddish gloom, tinted light giving off an eerie feeling as if they stepped aboard a submarine. More storage area. Several rows of shelves blocked his view. A central aisle cut between these shelves like the room they just left. Beyond, he saw what appeared to be an open area, although this part of the room lay mostly in darkness.

He started to take a step when a single light bulb at the far end of the room flicked on. Cascading cold white light illuminated a man slouched in a chair, wrists bound, his mouth covered by gray duct tape.

Joe O’Rourke.

Cautiously, Gerrit started to work his way toward his uncle when Kane’s voice cut through the darkness.

“Take one more step, Gerrit, and I will put a bullet in Joe’s head.”

Gerrit halted. He’d lost track of Alena ever since he saw his uncle strapped to the chair. She seemed to have slipped into the shadows as well.

“What do you want, Kane?” Gerrit peered through the gloom trying to figure out where Kane might be hiding.

“I want you, Gerrit. You and your lovely girlfriend.”

Gerrit tried to follow the sound of the man’s voice. There was a gap between a row of storage boxes and the next shelving above them. In this space, he thought he might see a figure, standing just to the left of his uncle. He would not be able to get a clear shot.

“Yeah, right. I come up there and you shoot us dead. Not a good proposition for any of us-except you.”

The shadow shifted closer to his uncle. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw more movement. It must be Alena, getting closer to the target.

“Believe me, Gerrit. I don’t want you dead. You have too much to offer for me to waste a bullet on you.”

“And if I come out in the open. What’re you going to do?”

“I want you and your girlfriend to put down your weapons. Sit down and talk about this. We parted ways last time without talking this out.”

Gerrit heard gunfire above him. Several explosions shook the building. “Sounds like your guys are in a world of hurt. Maybe you ought to just give up.” He edged closer, using the shelving to block his silhouette. Two rows away from getting a clear shot at Kane. “What do you say? Give up and we’ll let you live.”

“Don’t come any closer. You think I am an idiot. I got my gun trained on your uncle’s chest. There is no way I can miss from here.”

Peering around the edge of a gray metallic shelf, he saw Joe’s battered face. Gerrit gritted his teeth when he saw what they had done to his uncle. Joe looked back, then shifted his gaze to Gerrit’s right. Following Joe’s look, Gerrit saw that Alena had sneaked to the first row, one shelf of boxes separating her and Kane.

He swung back toward his uncle, searching the shadows for Kane. The man must have drawn back out of the light altogether, standing just out of sight, watching for them to approach.

There. He saw movement in the shadows. Kane must be getting restless.

Gerrit caught Alena’s attention, pointing to where he last spotted Kane. She nodded raised her rifle to eye level.

Kane must be drawn out into the light.

“I’m coming out, Richard. I wanna check on my uncle.” Gerrit started to step from behind the shelving.

“You come any closer and he dies.” Kane’s voice seemed strained, nervous.

“Let me just check on him. You’ll have both of us covered-”

Four rapid shots rang out and he saw his uncle twitch. Joe’s eyes widened. Blood oozed from a chest wound. Two of the shots came from Alena’s direction.

“Kane’s down,” she said.

“Joe’s hit.” Gerrit dashed to where he last saw Kane. The man was lying on his back, gun lying next to him. Gerrit scooped up the weapon and stuck it in his waistband, then patted Kane down for other weapons.

Clean.

He moved toward his uncle. “Cover me, Alena. I think Kane’s unarmed, but keep an eye on him.”

Easing the tape from Joe’s mouth, Gerrit looked at his uncle’s wound. It appeared to be one shot-a grazing chest wound-sliced the skin enough to cause blood to seep onto his clothing. Kane’s second shot must have missed. Relieved, Gerrit pulled out his knife and sliced the tape binding Joe’s wrists.

Seeing the older man could function, Gerrit turned and strode over to where Kane lay. The man had been hit twice, once in the chest and once in the gut. Kane was dying, painfully.

Gerrit felt Alena draw near. Kane looked up at them, gaze shifting from one to the other, finally focusing on Alena. The man’s eyes, even in death, seemed filled with anger.

“So this is how you repay me, Alena. After all I did for you.” Anger from his eyes carried over into his words, weak but harsh in his last remaining breath.

“I owe you nothing, Richard. You brought this on yourself.”

Gerrit looked from one to the other, puzzled. “You knew him?” He searched her face for an answer. “You worked with him?”

“Not anymore,” she said, walking over to Joe.

Kane turned his gaze toward Gerrit. “Ask her about your father. She has blood on her own hands.” The man struggled to raise himself one last time. He wheezed, “Gerrit, your parents…only following orders. Only following orders, boy.” The man’s last words seemed to take all the strength he had left. Kane closed his eyes and stopped moving.

Gerrit knelt and felt the man’s carotid artery. No pulse. He looked over at Alena. What was Kane trying to tell him? Others ordered his parents’ killed? More questions left unanswered. More paths to follow. Never ending! He hung his head.