Artsun Akopyan - Survival Gene. Science Fiction Novel

A green color lit up at the exit for him. Slightly touching the accelerator pedal with his foot, Barkov squinted to the right. The Lexus was still in the queue – there were two cars before it. So, Andrew had a minute head start or a bit more on the guys. Can I escape within that time?

He glanced over at a wide bridge in the distance. Apparently, wreckers had not reached it yet. There were about fifteen warped cars on it. Some of them were blocking traffic lanes. He would have to maneuver between them at low speed. It would be hard to escape that way. Besides, there was no place to hide in the process. Two small islands loomed ahead, Virginia Key and Biscayne Key, with no shelter for the car on either. After Biscayne Key, there was only the ocean. If the criminal started to shoot on the move, Emily could get hit. Andrew had to prevent that. He was responsible for those he arrested, but he also had to admit that he needed her to see this through. Her abilities could come in handy in saving them both. And, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he found her attractive.

“Why are you driving so slowly?” the girl asked.

Barkov looked around. His Ford had not entered the bridge yet. To the left of the road, there was a parking lot. A commercial truck with a semitrailer loaded with a caterpillar bulldozer screened a part of it. The semitrailer was flat on the asphalt, its torn off wheels nearby. Probably the axes had not been able to bear the sharp increase of the load when the gravitation changed.

The semitrailer and the bulldozer might be an excellent shelter.

Barkov turned to the parking lot. “Stay in the car. I’ll be back soon.”

“Where are you going?”

“To stretch my legs.”

He parked the car behind the truck so that it would be impossible to fire at it from the road. A holster with his Colt was in the glove compartment. Opening the compartment, he took out the gun, thrust it under his belt in front and got out of the car. The truck’s cab was empty. Going around it, Andrew stopped with his back to the road and made a show of examining one of the broken wheels. He could be seen from the road quite well as he was standing in an open place lit by sunrays. The heat of the rays was so strong that he felt it on his skin under the shirt.

He didn’t wait long. Shivers ran down his neck and spine as if a cold wind bit him. Blood hammered in his temples. The Lexus appeared in his mind’s eye. The passenger was holding the plastic butt of the Beretta with two hands, his finger was hardly touching the metal trigger. The man was looking at Barkov through the open window hesitating between whether to shoot at the back of his head or the middle of his spine. The Lexus braked smoothly. Andrew kept on standing motionless. The killer chose the base of the skull to finish his work with one shoot. He rose the pistol and took aim.

As soon as the muscles of his forefinger started to contract and the trigger started moving, Barkov swung aside. The criminal didn’t have time to correct his sight. A shot rang out. The bullet flew past Andrew’s head and twanged on the metal bulldozer cab.

Now I have the right to defend myself in every way.

Andrew fell onto the asphalt and rolled sideways.

The killer moved the barrel and took aim again.

Barkov stopped sharply and rolled to the other side. The second bullet hit the asphalt and ricocheted into the bulldozer caterpillar.

Andrew’s movements were not as fast as when he arrested Housman. The new opponent had time to trace his movements. Is heat influencing me? Or maybe I’m not scared enough?

The man started shooting faster and with less concentration. Obviously, he was nervous. There was no need to dodge the next two bullets as they flew high and hit the semitrailer platform. Two others would have pierced Andrew’s leg, but he moved away and took up a position for shooting.

He has spent six cartridges. So, nine more are left.

It was not a pleasure to jump like a monkey under fire, but Andrew didn’t want to kill the bastard. His training required avoiding killing unless absolutely necessary. A slight wound would be enough to disable him. However, it wasn’t clear what to aim at. Andrew could only see the guard’s head and the hand holding the pistol.

I must only scare him .

Barkov leveled his Colt at the lowered door glass and pulled the trigger. The bullet shattered the upper edge of the glass. Fragments flew into the man’s face. He jerked back and hid behind the door. Very well!

Now it was possible for Andrew to reach the Lexus in a few jumps shooting above the criminal’s head, and making a hole in his leg or hand. Or, if it worked, Andrew could just take his pistol away, pull him out of the car and tie him up.

Barkov jumped up to execute his plan, but a new danger struck his senses. [2] A soviet assault weapon, a Kalashnikov, its barrel cut off, lay on a seat… Another man eyed Andrew… A plump hand removed the safety lock and racked the slide…

The Lexus driver! He’s also going to open fire!

However, this time it wasn’t clear how to escape the bullets. The fat and sweaty fair-haired man sitting at the wheel was not going to level his gun to put Andrew in his sights; he just wanted to press the trigger and to pour lead as if it wasn’t a Kalashnikov at all but a hose for watering a lawn. Andrew’s chances to stay unhurt were close to zero. He didn’t know where bullets would fly because the shooter himself didn’t know that.

Andrew knew he had no choice: I’ll have to kill him .

As soon as the man lifted the gun from the right-hand seat and put it out of the window, Andrew fired a shot. The driver yelled. He dropped the gun and caught his hand as he beat his forehead repeatedly against the wheel, roaring with pain.

Barkov didn’t have time to rejoice at such a successful hit. The curly head and the pistol appeared above the back door. Andrew realized that bullets would fly into his stomach in half a second as the killer had already turned his Beretta into the automatic mode.

It was a mortal threat. No acrobatic tricks would save him in this situation.

Barkov aimed his gun at the enemy in one short, precise movement and discharged. The bullet exploded into the man’s left eye. Bloody liquid splashed on his face. Death was instant. The body fell on the seat.

Andrew aimed his Colt at the driver. “Get out of the car!”

Without a glance, the driver raised his head, grasped the wheel with his bloody hands, and the Lexus rushed forward. Just before the bridge, the car turned left, its tires squealing, onto the last entrance of the parking lot. It caught on bumpers of several parked cars with its side, crossed the lot and turned at full speed to the road leading back to the city. A taxi moving in the same direction managed to brake in time and let it go.

Barkov lowered his gun and looked about. Not a single car was moving towards the islands. Lots of them were concentrated at the toll plaza as the barriers were now closed. The cars seemed to be empty. One by one, curious heads started to emerge above front panels and seat backs.

Andrew took his badge out of his pocket and raised it above his head. “Everything is all right! I’m a policeman!”

He put the badge back and directed his steps to his Ford. It was necessary to leave immediately before his colleagues arrived. All investigations could be conducted later.

Emily came out from behind the truck. Her eyes sparkled with amazement as she spoke, but her voice came to him in an unnatural, slow way, “I saw everything. That is, I have never seen anything like that! How did you do it? Like in the movie!”

Barkov shouted back, “What the hell are you doing out here?”