William Weber - System Failure

Within minutes, the enemy broke off and ran. A member of the SUV team scaled the blockade of snow with a scoped rifle, picking them off as they fled.

When it was clear the enemy had lost the thirst for battle, all five men met near Nate’s bruised pickup.

“You gave us the slip back there,” the tall one with the slight bend in the tip of his nose said, He introduced himself as Colt.

“I guess I did,” Nate replied. “Maybe next time wave a white flag so I know you come in peace.”

This was met with raucous laughter from an older black guy. “What’d I tell you?” He bumped fists with a Marine type carrying the scoped rifle and a wiry guy with dark curly hair and a wide grin.

“This is Walker,” Colt said, pointing to the black guy. “The one with the scowl is Ash. And the guy most likely to make a joke about your mother is Brooks.”

They all nodded.

“Brooks, I dare you to make a joke about Walker’s mom,” Ash said, flashing a straight set of whites.

Brooks scoffed. “Do I look suicidal to you?”

“We’ve been trying to make contact since you left Grand Station,” Colt said. “Your vehicle, is it still functional?”

Nate looked her over. “I think so.”

“Good. Then follow us.”

Although grateful for the help, Nate was starting to wonder if the wolf had run off for good this time.

They backtracked, heading toward the Loop, when Nate spotted a gangbanger lying face down in the snow, a wolf standing over him. He pulled to a stop and leaned over to pop the passenger door. Shadow got in.

“Look at you, cutting off the retreat,” Nate said, laughing.

They resumed their trek, pulling into what had once been the glassed-in lobby to an upscale residential building. The marble floor was slick with slush, but Nate could see where the broken glass had been swept aside with a push broom. He let Shadow out and closed the door.

“Who needs a parking lot when you can make your own, right?” he said to Colt as he approached.

Colt agreed. “One of the few upsides to a crappy situation, I suppose.”

The leader of this small unit led them down a set of stairs and into the building’s common area. A library with expensive-looking bound books had been transformed into a command post.

The four men from the SUV sank into seats around an oval table. “Please,” Colt said, pointing to an empty chair.

Shadow poked his head in, sniffed at the air and then left.

Brooks jabbed a finger at the doorway. “Uh, that don’t look like no labradoodle.”

“Brooks, you’re a real moron, you know that,” Ash spat, flinging a crumpled piece of paper at Brooks’ head.

“No, but seriously. Where’d you find him? I want one.”

Nate grinned. “I wish I could tell you, but the truth is he found us.” He shifted his attention to Colt. “Given that you seem to be the one leading this motley group, you wanna explain what this is all about?”

“Reciprocity,” Colt said enigmatically. “We saw you enter the shelter and drop someone off, but our sources suggested you caused quite a scene down there.”

“Maybe I did. I’d like to think a man can pick up members of his family without paying for the privilege.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Walker said, his voice deep and soothing.

A light formed in Nate’s eyes. “Wait a minute, what did you mean by sources? You guys were following me minutes after I left.” But the words were barely out of his mouth before the pieces clicked into place. “Ah, I get it. You’re monitoring their radio chatter, aren’t you? Which one of you speaks Russian?”

“Zdravstvuyte,” Ash said, greeting him in the foreign dialect, before pushing back in his seat and flicking a hand through his tightly cropped hair.

Colt folded his hands over the walnut table. “Like you, we arrived in Chicago to locate and extricate family members trapped in the city. After a bit of searching, we discovered two such members were in the Grand Station shelter, being held captive by members of a Russian crime syndicate. Al Capone can’t hold a candle to Sergei Ivanov. The Soviets were notoriously harsh on organized crime. The weak and stupid were captured or killed, leaving only the tough and ruthless behind. The most efficient psycho factory in the world, you might say.”

Ash grinned. “He’s got a trademark on that, by the way, so be sure to give credit.”

Colt tapped the table, struggling to tell the next part. “When my wife and daughter tried to leave, they were captured and killed.” He paused, his hands now balled into fists. “For gangsters, the blackout’s just one more opportunity to do what they do best. Slavery, extortion, prostitution, you name it. I want payback. First and foremost, I want to see Sergei and every last one of his sadistic henchmen dead. But they have numbers on their side. All I could get my hands on were these guys.”

The three others glanced at one another, insulted.

“I resent that,” Brooks said.

“Where are you all from?” Nate asked. “Remnants of the US military?”

Walker’s famous laugh filled the room. “Nope. Just me.”

The color was back in Colt’s cheeks. “We live in a place we call the Citadel. Been around for a little over nine years, formed shortly after the financial crisis. It’s no Fort Knox, but it is a group of like-minded individuals working toward a common set of ideals.”

“Ideals?” Nate said, handling the word as though it were an expensive heirloom. “You’ll have to forgive me, but it’s been a while since I’ve heard anyone speak like that.”

“I know. It’s because chivalry’s dead, man,” Brooks said.

Nate felt his hand move involuntarily to the pendant of St. Christopher around his neck, the one Sanchez had given him. “Maybe not everywhere,” he said, remembering how his friend had made the ultimate sacrifice to save a girl he didn’t know.

“Then you understand?” Colt replied warmly, a twinkle in his eye.

Nate nodded. “I’m starting to.” He let the room get quiet for a moment before asking, “So, what now?”

“We were hoping you might have an idea,” Walker said.

“I had a feeling you were gonna say that.” Nate drew in a deep breath and told them about the escape plan, one he now realized was a terrible idea. “Is there any way we can call it off?”

“Not without launching a full-frontal assault, I’m afraid,” Colt replied. “And that would be disastrous. Our only hope is to lure Sergei’s men out into the open and engage them piecemeal.”

“That’s right,” Ash said, working a silver dollar over the tops of his fingers. “Guy like that’s gotta always leave men behind, to keep control over the livestock… well, you know what I mean.”

“Let’s just hope Lady Luck is on our side,” Walker said, snatching the coin from Ash and setting it on the table.

Nate folded his arms. “Luck is where preparation meets opportunity.”

“Who’s that?” Brooks asked, intrigued. “Sun Tzu?”

“No, Dwight D. Eisenhower.”

Day 9

By 11:30AM the next morning, the size of the escape group had swelled to nine. It included all four Bauers; their neighbors, Carl and Liz; Holly, Dillon and Dakota. Which left Holly in the awkward position of having to explain what was happening to Johnny. She realized discretion was key, but after everything he had done to secure them a spot here, running out without even a goodbye seemed beyond the pale.

She kept her voice low as she explained the situation.

“You’re what?” he said, sitting up. “Holly, you’ve got to be kidding me. We just got here.” He studied the empty space on his wrist.