Devastation Erupts Page 8

  “Quinn!” Riley whisper-shouts. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be helping me!”

  “Sorry.” I stumble toward my sister. “Okay, what should I do?” With an audible sigh, she points to piles she’s assembled on the ground before us. Leave it to my sister to divide out the dog biscuits evenly for each dog.

  “We’ll each partner up with one of the guys. We’ll distract the dogs with treats while the guys remove collars.” She pauses, smirking. “And I’m guessing you’ll want to pair up with—” she raises her eyebrows. It’s a very Chris-like move.

  “Hey, where’d Chris go? I thought he was right here with us?”

  Her eyes widen in panic when we both realize the kid is gone.

  Chapter 25

  Twisting in every direction, we scour the surroundings, alternatively hissing questions and commands. “Chris!” “Where are you?” “Come back here!” My thoughts jump to the property owner. What if the kid wandered too close to the house and Jim’s friend has a hold of him right now? Bile lingers at the back of my throat, threatening to erupt.

  Panic flares and I practically launch into the clouds when a hand clamps around my elbow, yanking me from my post. A sigh of relief escapes when I realize the hand belongs to Riley, who peers around her side of the shed, blindly reaching for me.

  I scramble to her side, my jaw dropping when I spy our missing comrade.

  Knees planted in the dirt, Chris leans against a muscular pit bull, one arm wrapped around the dog’s back. My heart freezes while my nerves scream to look away. That kid has no idea what these dogs are capable of.

  Just as I’m about to call out to him, the dog’s ears relax and the stub occupying his hind quarters where a tail should be wiggles, as if he’s trying to wag it. Bliss radiates from him, not aggression. Riley shakes my elbow, as if we’re not seeing the same thing.

  “Look at that!” She flashes me a smile. “These dogs aren’t going to attack us. They actually crave human touch. Kind human touch.”

  “Well, that one anyway.” I don’t want to assume that all the dogs are this friendly. We watch as Chris and the dog bask in each other’s attention. I’m so engrossed that I don’t notice, or expect, Aidan and Jeff sneaking up behind us.

  Aidan taps my shoulder, sending my heart into a fresh wave of panic. I clamp a hand over my mouth but not before a startled shriek escapes. It’s loud enough for Riley, Jeff, and Aidan to hear, but thankfully, blaring music masks the sound.

  Riley points toward Chris and the dog. The guys peer around the shed, their features fluctuating from concern to surprise in seconds. Jeff motions us in for a group huddle.

  “We’ve already been here too long,” he eyes each of us, rubbing his chin. “Forget about trying to distract the dogs. If they’re all as friendly as that one,” he motions over his shoulder toward Chris’ new best friend, “then it’ll be much faster if we spread out and free them individually instead of working in teams.”

  “And what if some aren’t friendly?” I ask. “What do we do?”

  “Skip them,” Jeff says. “We can take care of them last. Right now, let’s just focus on getting as many free as we can.”

  “What about Chris?” Riley questions. “Should we have him wait in the car?” Aidan and Jeff share a glance, passing an unspoken message between them. Aidan shakes his head.

  “No. The little man can help too. Without him, we’d still be wasting our time breaking into sheds.”

  After several minutes of trying to tear Chris’ attention away from the dog, Riley motions for him to join the group. We explain our plan: run around to each dog and, as long as it doesn’t act like it wants to tear your arm off, remove its collar and then move on to the next one. Meet back here behind the shed when you don’t see any more dogs chained.

  Just when I think we’re about to put all of our hands in a circle and raise them together in a team high five, Aidan and Jeff turn away and sprint across the lawn. Chris returns to his new friend, and Riley and I dash in opposite directions. We all avoid the area closest to the house.

  The first dog I reach cowers slightly in fear. I stroke her head and talk softly, explaining what I’m doing as my fingers work the leather collar. It’s faster and easier than I ever expected. It takes just a few minutes and each successful release fuels adrenaline for the next one.

  Staying low to the ground, I scan the area, searching for any dogs that are still chained. Seeing none, I start racing toward the shed. When I’m halfway there, the music stops abruptly. It takes a moment to process as the pounding rhythm continues in my head. The only thing worse than the sudden silence is the voice that explodes through it.

  “Who the hell are you and what do you think you’re doing!?”

  Chapter 26

  Eyes wide with horror, I anxiously scan the yard. The only sound is the rush of blood in my ears and the throbbing of my frantic heart. Movement bursts from every direction. Thankfully the others are all running toward me. I’m just the first to make it back.

  No one answers the guy yelling. Riley makes it back to me first. She thrusts the car keys at me, trying to speak between gasps for oxygen.

  “You’re…the…fastest. Get…to…the…car…and…start…it.” I nod, snatching the keys and sprinting toward the driveway. When I’m just a few yards from the car, I steal a peek toward the house. Trees block much of the view, but sounds paint a chilling picture.

  A door slams. Moments later, shouting erupts, and the echo of gunfire shatters the air. My fingers fumble with the keychain as I clumsily yank the door open. I slide into the driver’s seat and jam a key into the ignition, the engine wailing in protest as I force the shift into drive and stomp on the gas pedal.

  Clouds of dust swirl from the back tires, creating a wake of stones and dirt. Riley, Chris, Aidan, and Jeff race down the driveway. In fear of colliding with one of them, I pump the brake pedal, skidding to a stop. They throw doors open and pile into the car within seconds. Before the last door slams shut, I steer the car into a sloppy three-point turn, tearing up grass that lines the driveway in the process.

  When the last part of the turn is complete and I shift the car into drive, my eyes catch movement in the rearview mirror. An irate man charges toward us, screaming obscenities and waving a sleek black gun in the air. Reaching his free hand into the back pocket of his jeans, he retrieves a cell phone.

  Slamming the gas pedal to the floor, the tires spin in the gravel for a moment before catching. Afraid to watch, but unable to look away, I see the man snap a picture of our car with his phone. The license plate. He knows our license plate now.

  The car shoots forward, the momentum jostling us around the small space. As we crest the end of the driveway, a cracking thunder rents the air and the car swerves right, hard. The steering wheel jumps in my hands as I struggle to right the car.

  “Get down! He’s shooting at us!” Jeff’s warning is the last thing I hear before a flurry of bullets pelt the car. It swerves again, this time to the left.

  “He shot the tires out!” Aidan shouts. My hands clutch the steering wheel with all the strength I can muster. I suddenly wish I had put up more of a fight when we talked about coming here.

  “That must be Vic,” Riley mumbles. Leaning forward in the seat, she grips my shoulder. “Even Jim was afraid of him.”

  “Well, don’t worry, cuz I’m not stopping this thing!” Popping erupts as bullets chase our retreat: some miss their target, but several pierce the trunk and back end of the car. It rings in my ears like stones pelting steel. Or balloons popping. Well, deadly balloons that want to puncture my skin and tuck me in for a dirt nap.

  As the car fishtails, I focus every ounce of adrenaline-laced energy on forcing the gas pedal to the floor. The tires sputter as metal meets pavement. Friction and resistance permit only meager acceleration but we’re outpacing Vic. And that’s all that matters right now.

  Eventually, he’s a distant speck in the rearview.

  Jeff rubs hi
s forehead and squints at Aidan. “You know how to replace tires? I mean, not that we have any equipment.”

  Aidan blows out a pent-up sigh. “No, and even if we did know how to do it, we don’t have tires. Or enough money to buy some. Jasmine’s dad gave me plenty of money to get home but not enough for car repairs.”

  Jeff slaps his palms on his thighs in finality. “Well, we’ve got no other choice. We’re gonna have to ditch the car,” Jeff says. “Once we get some distance between us and that house.”

  “What do you mean ditch the car? We need this to get home!” My voice pitches higher with each word. Aidan turns to me, gently brushing a palm over my white knuckles that clench the steering wheel with a death grip.

  “That guy has a picture of our license plate. I don’t know what kind of connections he’s got—or how long it’s gonna take him to get in his own vehicle and catch up with us, but I really don’t wanna find out.” His voice is calm, soothing.

  Great. And who’s gonna be the one to tell the sergeant that we’re already failing our mission? Riley takes the moment of peace to chime in.

  “Quinn, you know the next place we’re heading, right?” I slowly nod. We’re taking Chris home. “Well, we don’t want to lead Vic or any of his friends there.”

  Chapter 27

  My adrenaline surge deflates like a punctured balloon. A dull ache throbs beneath my temples as a renewed panic threatens to spike my heart rate. This is what we get for trying to do something good? We should be on the way home right now and instead we’re arguing about whether to keep going or not. And it sounds like they’re all on the same page. Except for me.

  My eyes shift to the only quiet one—the kid. He’s sandwiched between Jeff and Riley in the back seat. His eyes bounce from one side of the car to the other before he twists in his seat to peer out the back window. Thankfully, there’s no sign of anyone following us.

  “Quinn! Someone trusted you with this car. Now it’s got bullet holes, blown off tires, and possibly destroyed rims. We’ve done enough damage to it already, don’t you think?” Jeff’s harsh tone wields guilt that creeps into my limbs, consuming every cell in my body. He’s right. Bowen loaned us supplies and the car.

  “Besides,” Aidan adds. “It’s not safe to be driving around in it anymore. If that Vic guy finds the car—with us in it—we’re sitting ducks.”

  “So what do we do?” I ask, shaking my head in frustration. “We just leave the car somewhere?”

  His posture relaxes as he realizes I’ve accepted my defeat. Wiggling his eyebrows and wearing that signature smirk, he says, “I’ve got a plan.”

  Reaching into his back pocket, Jeff tugs on a tattered square of paper, carefully unfolding and smoothing it out on the seat.

  “What’s that?” Aidan darts an arm into the back seat, unsuccessfully trying to snatch the paper from Jeff.

  “So this,” Jeff flaps the paper in the air, “is evidence. It’s one of their stat sheets. It’s a list of their top winning dogs and their bloodlines.” He pauses for a moment, shaking his head in disgust. “I say we find the closest police station, deliver the flyer, and leave the car there.”

  “And what do we tell the police? We borrowed this car and got it shot up, but there’s nothing questionable going on here,” Riley’s voice cracks as worry trickles through each word.

  Aidan raises a hand in a calming gesture. “No. We can’t tell them anything or they’ll keep us there and ask us all kinds of questions. I say we park the car in the back, fold the flyer into a paper airplane, send it in the station and high-tail it out of there before anyone notices.”

  “Yeah! I can make an airplane out of it!” Chris exclaims. At least this is a distraction for the kid. A flash of relief calms my tense muscles.

  “Anyone have a pen and that asshat’s address? I need to add details to this paper so the cops can find him,” Jeff concludes.

  “The address is on that map up front,” Riley points toward the passenger seat. Aidan finds it on the floor and thrusts it back toward Jeff.

  “Now, as far as a pen, we’ll need to pull over so I can grab my bag.” Riley eyes me in the rearview mirror. Inwardly I cringe. My instincts scream to put more distance between us and Vic’s smoking gun. Riley senses my hesitation. She leans forward, quietly sharing words only meant for my ears.

  “I think we should show the guys all of our supplies. If we’re ditching the car, the weapons and satellite phone may save all of our butts.”

  She’s right. I nod, signaling my agreement, and she slides back in the seat.

  Within a few minutes we approach a deserted roadside vegetable stand. I ease the gas pedal, which slightly calms the protesting tires. I shift the car into park when we’re sufficiently hidden behind the rickety wooden shelter.

  Riley jumps out of the car to retrieve her bag, along with the various supplies we were given before leaving the base. As she presents Jeff with a pen, one bag spills open, the picture of Bowen’s smiling wife landing at Chris’ feet.

  “Who’s that?” Aidan asks. “And why are you carrying around a framed picture?”

  There, less than twenty-four hours after we promised secrecy to Sergeant Bowen, Riley and I spill the beans. For the most part. We conveniently forget to mention a few details—like the fact that the “vaccines” given on base are actually tracking devices. At least it’s a bit less of a betrayal.

  As we explain, the guys’ reactions range from disbelief to disappointment that we didn’t tell them sooner. We field their questions as vaguely as we can. By the time the last word is spoken, we have yet another new plan.

  Chapter 28

  Before we do anything else, Aidan insists on calling his dad. He refuses to get back in the car until his family knows what’s happening. I completely understand. If I still had parents, I’d want to warn them and let them know that I’m trying to get home as soon as possible.

  Thankfully, Aidan’s dad offers to alert Jeff’s family, so that saves us some time. Although Jeff would rather call them himself, he sees the value in wrapping up this little errand of ours so that we can get back to our true mission of getting home.

  Instead of searching for a local police station, we decide an animal shelter would be a better place to leave the evidence. No police officer is going to let us just turn in a flyer with an accusatory note on it and then send us on our merry way. They’re going to question us—and showing up in a car riddled with bullet holes won’t exactly bolster our innocence.

  We figure that an animal shelter would be much easier to slip in and out of without being noticed. We’ll just leave it in their hands to investigate or call the cops.

  Besides, Riley and I are hoping to keep at least one promise we made to the sergeant—that we’d find his wife as soon as we could. Hanging around a police station to be interrogated doesn’t really play into that plan.

  With a strategy in place—again—we introduce the guys to our collection of gadgets. Chris’ eyes widen with each revelation: the pistol, the knife, and the satellite phone. Jeff and Aidan mirror his enthusiasm.

  Although they briefly saw the phone when we first left Jasmine’s house, we know it’s time to show them how much it can do.

  The three of them are like kids tearing into presents on Christmas morning. They ooh and ahh over the weapons, but they practically salivate over the phone.

  “Why don’t we get moving?” Riley asks. “Once we ditch the car, you’ll have plenty of time to play with the phone while we’re hiking our way out of here.”

  Although Jeff thinks we’ll be able to find another car to borrow, I have my doubts. This is already the third vehicle we’ve had that isn’t ours. I’m starting to feel like a cat living its ninth life. Plus, right now people think everything is returning to normal. They’re leaving their homes, going to stores and jobs. We don’t have the cover of an emergency right now, where people mostly retreat to their homes. And, when the next emergency does arise, I’m hoping we’re safely locked in o
ur home by then.

  “Let’s go!” Jeff races to the car, satellite phone in hand. He jumps into the passenger seat, signaling his intent to navigate. “I found the closest animal shelter! It’s just a few miles away.”

  Riley takes the driver’s seat while I hop into the back with Chris and Aidan. The short drive is slow but uneventful. The tire rims seem to diminish further with each rotation, imposing their sluggish pace on the front tires, hampering our progress.

  Rolling into the parking lot, Riley cautiously pulls around to the back of the building and shifts the car into park. Hopefully this isn’t its final resting place.

  We scrutinize our surroundings and, confirming no one else is around, set our plan into motion.

  Riley, Jeff, Aidan, and I scramble to the trunk. We sling every bag and backpack over a shoulder or across a back before darting toward a thinly wooded area behind the building.

  Chris flutters past us, waving the one item in his possession—the flyer. We’re sending the kid inside.

  Chapter 29

  He slinks along the building, clearly delighted to be chosen for this assignment. Flashing us a toothy smile, he gives a thumbs-up and dashes toward the entrance, disappearing inside.

  “Have you guys noticed how moody Chris has been?” I ask. “Like one minute he’s giving us attitude and complaining and then the next he’s all excited to be here.”

  “He was pretty happy at Jasmine’s house, but he got quieter when we left,” Jeff interjects. “I don’t know what we expected, though. It’s not like they can just keep him like he’s a stray that showed up on their doorstep.”