The Impossible Future: Complete set by Frank Kennedy (mini ebook reader .txt) 📕

either side, the high branches shading the road and low brush, leaving no semblance of a shoulder.

“The highway isn’t far,” Sammie said over the chugging, nauseated engine. “Maybe a quarter mile past that bend. Faster, Coop. I don’t feel good about this.”

Jamie understood Sammie’s impatience. His nerves crawled like the baited earthworms he used to drop into Alamander River. However, he didn’t have time to express his fears.

A blue sedan rounded the bend, not moving at a rapid clip, either, appearing to rock back and forth as it also navigated a terrain it wasn’t equipped to handle. Michael kept his foot on the gas until Jamie grabbed the wheel.

“Slow down. Pull over far as you can.” He turned to Sammie. They didn’t say a word, but he saw her trigger finger poised to unload the M16.

“No way,” Michael said. “We stay in the middle, they’ll pull over.”

“I don’t think so,” Sammie said. The blue sedan stopped, holding position in the center. Michael hit the brakes, the sedan a hundred feet ahead. Jamie slid one of the AKs into Michael’s lap.

The sedan’s driver-side door opened. Christian Bidwell stepped out, although he remained behind the door.

Jamie saw a river of sweat roll down Michael’s forehead and a familiar terror in his best friend’s eyes. Jamie knew with certainty they were in serious trouble when he saw Christian speaking into a cell phone.

Sammie grabbed their attention. “This is what we have to do. On a count of three, I’m going to open my door. As soon as I do, I’m going to jump. Put your heads down and follow me out as quickly as you can. Whatever you do, don’t slow down.”

A split second before Sammie began her count, reality struck Jamie like a thunderbolt. He remembered the unnatural shadow.

“He’s giving the orders this time,” Jamie whispered. He swung about and looked through the rear of the cab just as a man with a familiar face emerged from the brush thirty feet away. The shooter pocketed a cell phone, raised his rifle, and opened fire.

Jamie ducked, grabbed Michael by the arm, and yanked him down with enough force to pull his friend’s shoulder out of socket. The first bullets shattered the cab’s rear window, spraying a shower of glass over them. The shards danced on his and Michael’s bare torsos. Sammie flung open the passenger door.

As bullets pinged and ricocheted, Jamie followed Sammie’s lead and leapt across the seat, throwing his rifle out the truck ahead of him. He stumbled over the doorstop, raked his shoulder against the open door and fell to the ground, his knee smacking the butt of the rifle. Throbbing pain crippled his every concern, but only until Michael fell on top of him. Jamie rolled over, grabbed his rifle and was prepared to run into the brush, as Sammie instructed.

Sammie maintained a hunched position as she fired the M16 across the truck’s cargo bed. The semi-automatic bursts were as disciplined as Jamie witnessed when she brought down a helicopter. He grabbed his AK, ignored his pain, made sure Michael was not shot, and allowed instinct to take over.

 

44

A S JAMIE EXPECTED, Christian no longer held a position behind his car door. He was on the move, weapon poised. As soon as Jamie pointed the AK, Christian stopped and opened fire. Jamie pulled the trigger, letting loose a couple rounds as the enemy’s bullets smacked the door and sizzled past within inches of his head.

Sammie screamed. “Run. Go now.”

Michael leaped into the thick collection of myrtle, tall grasses and other scrub; Jamie lowered his weapon and did the same. He plunged forward through the thick, scraggly mess, branches and twigs snapping in his face and scraping against his bare arms and chest. He tripped over a low, knotted branch and fell, his belly lying flush on a thorny vine. He groaned as the thorns held him down. He dropped the rifle, grabbed the vine and yanked. He screamed, the sound of his desperation mild against automatic weapons fire.

Jamie ignored the specks of blood on his stomach, picked up the rifle, and stumbled forward. He jumped, skipped and clambered over nature’s obstacles before emerging into a more open area of woods.

Michael peeked out from behind the massive base of an ancient oak. Jamie raced toward him. Seconds later, Sammie raced into the open twenty feet from where Jamie emerged. The instant they saw each other, she waved them on, her lips repeating, “Run, run, run.”

They didn’t take stock of this latest nightmare or their injuries. Instead, they ran. The land undulated, a series of small hills and steep slopes, the rotten remains of long-ago-fallen trees, a dry streambed and another collection of knotted bramble. Jamie assumed the trio covered almost a mile before Sammie raised her hand and suggested they stop. She told them to climb down a short slope and hunker against the base of a birch tree, its massive, twisting roots exposed by the eroding soil.

Jamie sat beside Michael, both wheezing and covered in perspiration. Sammie breathed hard as well, but Jamie noticed she didn’t seem beaten down. When they regained their breath, Michael asked the question on Jamie’s mind.

“How did they find us? How?”

“I don’t know,” Sammie said, reminding Michael to keep his voice to a whisper. “Couldn’t have been by GPS. That was something Daddy made especially …” As soon as she caught Jamie’s unblinking eyes, she stopped. “Probably luck. Yeah. The one in the helicopter probably told them where we were before I shot it down. They got lucky. That’s all.”

“Luck or not, don’t matter,” Michael said, pumping his chest. “I ain’t messing with these dudes again. Hear me?” His rasping voice began to take off. Michael jumped up and grabbed his rifle. “You get our asses out of here. Got that, Supergirl?”

Jamie grabbed Michael and pushed