Rick Mofina - Every Second

“…a quarter million for the operation,” Vic said, slapping the bag again. “Now we carry on as planned with our message and warning to the-”

The peel, rip and snap of the tape and plastic cuffs sounded as Dan jerked his wrists free and blitzed Vic, knocking him to the ground sending his rifle clattering down the hillside as he slashed at him with the knife.

Drawing on her police training, Lori dropped, hurtling her body full force into Cutty’s knees, sending him to the ground before he had a chance to react. His rifle bumped down the ridge side with Vic’s. She sprang to her feet and kicked wildly at Cutty’s face, gut and groin.

Dan continued struggling on the ground with Vic, but his knife had slipped from his hand and tumbled down the rocky hill with the other weapons.

Lori picked up a baseball-sized rock with her bound hands and smashed it on Cutty’s head. As he lay dazed on the ground she made her way to Dan as he continued fighting Vic.

“No!” Dan yelled. “Go get Billy! Hurry-I’ll be right behind you!”

Alarmed by shouting along the road, Percy dropped his tools, grabbed his gun, left the SUV and flew toward the voices.

At the cabin, Jerricko seized his weapon, tore out the front door and down the trail.

Neither one saw the woman.

Lori had rushed into the forest, taking the outhouse path toward the cabin’s rear. In the seconds she ran, she contended with her desperation to return to Dan and to run ahead for Billy, knowing their captors could set off their bombs at any time.

She blazed through the back door of the cabin, relieved to find Billy alone and unharmed. The handcuff keys were on the table, next to Jerricko’s laptop. She snatched them, Billy standing, his eyes saucers of fear at hearing the shouting.

“Mom?” Billy’s voice broke as she frantically worked the key to unlock the cuff and free him. “What’s going on? Is Dad out there?”

In the instant she’d freed her son the blasts of automatic gunfire pierced the air outside. Lori looked out the window in time to see Dan rushing up the path, Jerricko and Percy behind, cutting him down with bullets and sending him toppling over the side of the ridge.

Dan! No! Oh God! No! They’ve killed him!

Shock paralyzed her with disbelief. Dan was gone. His killers took stances at the edge of the cliff and continued pouring bursts of gunfire downward to where Dan had fallen.

Numbed, horrified, Lori was rooted where she stood, wanting to cry out- bastards! -to the men who’d just murdered her husband.

Suddenly Percy whirled, fired. Bullets tore through the cabin.

Lori crouched, pulling Billy down beside her shielding him with her body.

She saw Jerricko’s backpack with food and water. She seized his laptop and, fumbling with her bound hands, shoved it in the bag and took it.

“Hurry!”

She rushed out the back with Billy and they crashed into the forest, running for their lives as bullets flicked through the trees.

Somewhere in New York State

When the shooting ceased, Cutty rushed down the slope, surfing on the gravelly dirt, hopping over rocks toward Fulton’s body splayed at the bottom of the cliff.

Motionless.

Vic had ordered Cutty to verify Fulton’s condition.

Cutty bent over him for closer inspection. His blood-soaked clothes were ripped and torn. His bullet-ridden arms and legs were twisted into impossible angles. His face was a bloodied, pulpy mass. Cutty gave him a hard kick, listening for a groan, watching for movement.

Nothing.

“He’s dead!” Cutty called up to the others, quickly covering the body with large branches and undergrowth. “The animals are going to feast on you. Too bad you won’t live to see what we’re going to do to your bitch wife in front of your kid, you greedy banker nonbeliever asshole, one-percenter prick!”

Cutty touched the back of his hand to his throbbing face, assessing his own wounds as he climbed back up, cursing Lori Fulton.

“That bitch is dead!”

Above him, Percy and Vic had collected the two lost rifles and were inspecting them for any damage when the sound of new gunfire erupted around them.

Percy and Vic turned to the cabin to see Jerricko was behind it, firing into the woods.

“She got away with the kid! Let’s go!” Vic shouldered his weapon, then tossed the bag he held to Percy. “Carry the money. Come on!”

Behind the cabin, all four unleashed sustained gunfire into the dark woods before Vic ordered them to regroup inside.

Breathing hard, cursing and gulping water, they assessed their situation. Jerricko was searching the cabin and the area near the beds.

“How the hell did this happen?” Percy said.

“Forget the how. What do we do now?” Cutty said.

“I say detonate the bombs,” Percy said. “Blow the mothers up, end of story.”

“Cell phones don’t work up here,” Cutty said. “We can’t send the signal.”

“That satellite phone works. Use it to call the numbers and boom,” Percy reminded them.

Vic pulled the satellite phone from his pocket, looked at it then looked at his crew while weighing the call.

“Don’t do it!” Jerricko said. “She’s got my bag-and our laptop with everything on it! Everything! You blow her up, you blow up everything we’ve been working for! We have to get it back!”

They all looked to Vic, waiting for him to decide their next move.

He put the phone away.

“We’re done here. The gunfire is going to bring hikers or police this way. We’re not blowing anything up. We need that laptop. The police found both cars-we heard it on the news on the way up. They’re getting closer, but we have time. We’ll go after her and the kid.”

“Yes!” Cutty said.

“Divide the money into other bags, so it’s easier to carry,” Vic said. “Get what gear you need-fast!”

Percy went to the duffel bags by the beds where there was more ammunition and food.

“It’s dark. She’s a woman, handcuffed, dragging a kid and she’s unarmed in a dense forest. There are four of us. We have automatic guns, plenty of ammo and equipment. We know these woods. We’ll hunt her down, recover our laptop, salvage our operation and carry out our plans to the glorious end. Agreed?”

“Agreed!” the others said.

“Allah is the Greatest!” Vic shouted.

“Allah is the Greatest!” the others repeated.

Manhattan, New York

Kate lifted her head from her work to the glittering spires of Manhattan’s skyline rising before her.

She and Stan were crossing the Hudson on the George Washington Bridge into New York City. It was late. She’d worked nonstop the entire return trip, filing story updates and making more calls in pursuit of information about Lori’s ties to Jerricko Blaine or Malcolm Samadyh. Most people she’d reached met her questions with, “Who? Never heard of him,” or “Not us, wrong Blaines.” She dialed another number, this one in Southern California, with little hope of a lead. The line was answered by a woman.

“Is this the home of Ramone and Wanda Blaine?”

“Yes, this is Wanda. Who’s calling?”

“Kate Page. I’m a reporter with Newslead in New York. I’m trying to reach relatives of Jerricko Titus Blaine. Are you a relative?”

The woman on the phone hesitated, then replied that, yes, she was related.

Kate sat ramrod straight.

“You’re related to Jerricko Titus Blaine?”

“Yes.” The woman sighed. “We figured someone would call us sooner or later-we’ve been watching the news all day and we weren’t sure if we should get involved, or what. We’re not sure how we could help.”