Ashfall (17 page)

“Especially not Mally,” Adam said.

“Something isn’t right, though. Why would she leave and take the SUV without trying to contact you? To go back to her place?” Mark asked.

Adam shook his head and saw the grim line of the General’s mouth get thinner. Traffic ahead came to a dead stop.
Son-of-a-bitch.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Me, too,” Mark said. “I’ll check video and see if I can tell what happened. What are you going to do?”

Adam’s frustration boiled inside. “Traffic is at a standstill. Standby.” Adam turned to the General. “You heard what Mark said. Do we keep going or turn around?”

The General started at him, his eyes showing pure frustration. “I know what you want to do.”

Adam couldn’t deny it. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I had a bad feeling. Something’s happened. Mally wouldn’t take off on her own without contacting us.”

The General grunted. “You don’t know that.”

“All right, I don’t know it. That’s why I’m asking you.” It almost killed him to not know if Mally was all right, but he’d made a commitment to help the General.

“I want to find my daughter. But from the look of traffic we aren’t getting there any time soon.” Without another word, the General edged his way into the grassy center median and did a totally illegal turn.

Luckily for them cars coming in the other direction back toward Buckleport had slowed to a trickle and they wedged into the flow with ease. Adam relayed to Mark that they would return to Buckleport and begin searching for Mally and the missing SUV.

Adam didn’t know how to express the desperate feeling that took root inside him. “Thank you, sir.”

The General grunted. “Yeah, yeah. I remember what young love is like.”

Adam felt heat filling his face, but didn’t know what to say to the man’s observation.

“Besides, I have the same instinct as you do,” the General said. “Something isn’t right.”

Knowing the General agreed with him didn’t help. Adam wanted Mally in his arms again.

* * * *

Mally awakened again, but she didn’t think she’d been out long. The SUV made a strange tick, tick, tick noise. Perhaps the engine on its last legs. Pain radiated up her back and into her head. She was damned sick of getting the crap kicked out of her. Plus, she’d been knocked out twice. She hoped all the raps on the head didn’t dissolve brain cells she might need later. Despite a dull aching across her body, awareness crashed into her full force. She was wedged between the front seat and the dashboard.
Where’s my Glock?
Panic surged up her throat. She heard labored breathing. Magnus was right next to her in the driver’s seat. She struggled to turn around and pulled herself onto the passenger seat. Magnus lay back, arms akimbo and head turned away from her. Blood continued to soak the bullet wound. He looked unconscious.

The SUV’s front, rather than crushing inward, had walked itself up the side of a big tree. The back end sagged into the ditch. She saw her Glock by her feet, and scrambled for it. As she brought it up, Magnus turned his head toward her, and his eyes barely opened. He groaned. She reached behind her for the door panel and tried the latch. It didn’t budge. She tried again and again to open the passenger door. Nothing.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she hissed her displeasure.

Magnus opened his mouth and a little blood came out.

“Don’t move.” Her voice was a dry croak. “You’re hurt bad. I’ve got to get us help.”

He smiled. Coughed and wiped at the blood on his mouth. He glanced down at the red on his fingers. “Shit, lady.”

“You were driving like a maniac.”

He snorted a laugh. “Never thought pussy would be the one thing to get me killed. What a fucking way to go.”

She reached for the radio, hoping it would work. She tried once. Twice to call for help and got nothing but static. She cursed inside. She didn’t have her cell.

“Have you got a cell phone?” she asked.

“Yeah. You’ll have to come and get it. Right front pocket.” The smirk on his lips dared her.

She hesitated. Although pale, he didn’t look down and out yet. If she reached over there, he could easily grab her. As it was she couldn’t leave the vehicle, couldn’t move into the back seat without brushing by him and risking that he’d lay hands on her. She kept the gun pointed at him. She took inventory of her own aches and pains. She didn’t feel that much more worse for the wear than she had earlier. To her amazement, the duct tape around her ankles had split during the crash.

Pain lashed through her right side, and she gasped. Maybe she’d lacerated something or broken a rib. She didn’t know. She kept her attention pinned on the wounded man. He tried his door and it also wouldn’t open.

“You could crawl over the back seat and try the back doors,” he said.

“No. Try opening your door again.”

He grunted as the door resisted. He tried repeatedly but couldn’t get it open. He fell back against his seat, sweat on his brow. She couldn’t see his left shoulder well, but she imagined the bleeding continued.

Keeping her weapon leveled on Magnus, she said, “You crawl over the back seat and try the doors.”

She half expected him to resist the idea. Pain still etched his face, but so did a keen desire to get retribution. She kept her weapon steady on him as he slowly tried to lift himself over the console. He wriggled, groaning as he did so. A smear of blood covered the entire driver’s seat back and the console as he fell into the back with a thud. She didn’t take chances, keeping her attention squarely on what he was doing. He tried the passenger door and it refused to budge. He inched across the seat until he could get to the other side. He heaved at the door, his breath labored, blood obvious on the back of his t-shirt.

“Bitch.” He coughed. “You’ve killed me.”

“Not yet. But there’s still time.”

He turned back toward her, pure evil mixed with pain in his eyes. Suddenly he gasped and fell back onto the seat with his eyes closed. He rasped for breath, then went still. Keeping her weapon pointed at him, she waited. His chest didn’t move up and down, and yet she continued to stare and wonder if she’d killed the bastard. Fear mixed with relief. She didn’t trust her instincts in that moment, uncertainty piling on top of uncertainty. A hundred thoughts ran through her mind. She thought she saw him take a breath, but if he did she couldn’t say for certain. She watched for any eyelash flutter, any sound…anything.

What if I’ve killed him?
No, that didn’t seem likely. It was only a shoulder wound. Okay, maybe she’d nicked something more vital.

Shouldn’t I feel guilty?

After staring at his body for what seemed eternity, she remembered he’d mentioned the cell phone. She saw the square lump in his left pocket. Good. At least it wasn’t in his back pocket.

Come on. Cowgirl up.

Keeping her weapon trained on his chest, she leaned into the back seat. Her breathing increased as anxiety rose.
No, no.
She didn’t want to be anywhere near him. It was awkward as hell. She had to lean on the console between the front seats and keep the Glock on Magnus and use her left hand to reach into his pocket. She managed it and started to pull back.

Magnus sat up, and she jerked back with a gasp and dropped the phone in her lap.

His eyes were wide and a gargle came from his throat. “Bitch!”

He fell back again, but this time a flood of red came from his mouth, wetting his chin, flowing down his face onto the seat. Nausea curled her stomach as she covered her mouth with her left hand. A low moan of disgust came from her own throat.

She kept the gun on him, but this time her hand shook. Hell, her whole arm shook. Muttering a string of foul curses, she tried to work the phone.
Password protected.
She laid the useless phone on the console.

“Damn it!” She almost growled in frustration as tears came to her eyes and leaked down her face.

Her imagination started to work overtime. How long would she be trapped here? Where exactly was she? She thought maybe this was Stanton Road, which was only about ten miles outside of Buckleport. A back road that lead to some seriously secluded forestland and maybe a cabin or two. No one lived back here. At least no one who wanted to be found. New trepidation arose. Adam wouldn’t necessarily check into base for some time. Who knew how long she’d be in this hell with Magnus’s corpse? At least she hoped like hell he was dead
now
. She considered shooting him again just for good measure, then couldn’t stomach the idea. When she made it out of here…if she made it out, would she face a murder charge?

A thousand thoughts spiraled through her mind, and questions about the life she’d lived before she met Adam started to haunt her. She’d stayed cooped up in her father’s house, a home she’d never wanted. She’d thought she’d isolated herself out of necessity when the volcano erupted. Yet looking back, Mally knew that wasn’t the only reason she’d become a hermit in the compound. The huge house had represented safety, but she’d allowed her father’s fanatical ravings, his paranoid world view to change her, to influence her in ways even she hadn’t recognized until the chips were down. She was embarrassed to realize how much of his paranoia had influenced her to become a hermit. She’d spent too much time apart from other people, from taking her own life to the next level. When she got out of here…if she escaped…she would change that. She didn’t want to return to the life she’d led without Adam.

She glanced through the windshield. The glass had cracked but wasn’t spiderwebbed. Maybe if she kicked it out…She twisted around to face the front but it did no good. The way the vehicle had crumpled she couldn’t reach the front.

Great.
Trapped in this place with a man who’d just acted like a zombie in a freaking horror movie.

* * * *

Mally glanced at her watch. She’d been in this car with Magnus’s corpse for four hours, and the smell threatened to gag her. And unless people started to turn into flesh-eating undead because of the Long Valley explosion, Magnus was well and truly dead now. She made a small, disgusted laugh. She kept the gun in her lap. She wasn’t relinquishing it until she got out of here and far away from the body.

Plus, her head felt the size of a watermelon and that couldn’t be good. She realized something sticky was on her right cheek. She reached up and explored her hair and forehead for the first time.

Pain arched through her forehead. “Ow.”

This dent in her head must be from the crash, and the combined throb from both injuries ached. She couldn’t afford to give into pessimism, though.

If she knew anything at all, she knew Adam would look for her if he had a clue she’d been kidnapped. But how would he know?
Mark.
Of course. If Mark went back to Sentry Security he’d realize something was off. In the meantime, she needed to keep thinking of a way to escape.

A few minutes later she heard the rumble of a vehicle coming her way and hope returned. Rescue perhaps? A big truck that didn’t count exactly as a monster but still had huge wheels rolled down the dirty road toward the south. From the direction of town. The brilliant red truck came to a halt near the crash, and a man got out. He hurried to her smashed SUV and when he came to the window she waved. She didn’t know whether he was friend or foe, but all she could do was keep her fingers crossed. With a scruffy gray beard and long gray hair, the flannel and jean wearing older man peered in at her cautiously. He tried opening the doors, going to each one and having no luck.

She yelled, “Call the number on the side of the SUV and ask for help! This man in here kidnapped me and ran us off the road!”

The older man put his finger up to his ear and shook his head. Maybe he couldn’t hear her.

She tried speaking even louder. “Call the number on the side of the SUV! They’ll be able to help me!”

The grizzled man took a step back from the truck, his expression filled with suspicion.
Damn. Did he see my weapon?
He probably thought she was a murderer. He ran back toward his truck and drove away, continuing south.

“No, no! Don’t leave me here!” She slammed her open hand down on the console between her and the driver’s side in pure frustration. “I can’t believe this.”

She sighed and closed her eyes for a few moments but tears rose into her eyes. After taking a shuddering breath and drying her eyes, she rubbed her throbbing temples.

Less than thirty minutes later, Mally thought she heard the low purr of an engine. Hope and dread mingled together within her. Hope that at the least some rescue headed her way and not another threat.
Please, please.
Maybe the old coot
had
called for help.

Even though her whole body hurt, she crawled over the console to the driver’s side and craned to look out the window. A black SUV came into view and hope filled her. Then she saw the Sentry Security logo on the side as it rumbled to a stop at the side of the road. Relief made her sag against the window.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Two men jumped from the SUV. The General and Adam.

“Yes! Oh, thank God!”

She’d never been happier to see two people in her life. She waved and saw the grim looks on their faces as they ran down into the ditch toward the damaged SUV with Adam in the lead, carrying his first aid pack. The General carried a long object she couldn’t identify.

Adam’s hands came down on the window, his eyes filled with worry. “Mally!”

She barely heard his shout, but she nodded and smiled.

“Mally, cover your head. We’re going to break the window!”

She returned to the passenger seat. Adam moved back and the General came into view. He held a big tool of some sort—one of those window breaking devices. Mally covered her head with her arms. The crash rang in the vehicle and sprayed glass over her, but she didn’t care. The General used the device to rake out the remaining glass so there weren’t sharp edges. She crawled over the console as Adam came back into view.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, anxiety clear in his voice as he held his hands out to her.