Mega #02 Baja Blood (7 page)

Did he still try to rendezvous with the cartel’s fishing vessel or not?

All of his systems still worked and he watched his navigation system specifically as he piloted the sub into US waters, passing the international boundary without a problem. Certainly a lot faster and easier than the land crossing in Tijuana. After a mile, a beep sounded and his GPS showed a small dot about thirty miles out to sea.

The fishing boat.

But he also realized he was only fifteen miles from a place he knew well. A hidden place. A place he could call for help.

A debate raged in his head as he looked at the GPS map and the small dot then at the San Diego coastline and the other possible destination.

If he took the sub to San Diego, would he be able to get it where he needed? And could he get help before the cartel found him?

He stared at the screen for a few seconds more then made his decision.

***

“Are you seeing this?” Kinsey asked, sitting cross legged in front of Gunnar’s huge flat screen TV. “Some psychos started shooting up I-5.”

“They what?” Gunnar asked, looking up from the sandwiches he was throwing together for them both since the pancakes didn’t work out so well. He sliced the two sandwiches, placed them on plates and hurried into the living room. “Where?”

“Here,” Kinsey replied, seeing the sandwiches. “Hand me mine, will ya?”

“No,” Gunnar said, setting the plates on the coffee table as he sat down on the couch. “You’ll come eat over here so you don’t get crumbs all over the carpet.” He took a big bite of his sandwich and kept talking around the food. “And you’re sitting too close. You’ll ruin your eyes.”

“I used to blow random guys for smack cash,” Kinsey said, as she stood up, unwinding gracefully from the floor. “Ruining my eyesight doesn’t even register as one of my worries.”

“Well, it should,” Gunnar said. “You need strong eyes if you want to stay on Team Grendel.”

She sat down next to Gunnar, bumping him over with her hip, and picked up half a sandwich. She took a bite bigger than Gunnar’s and focused back on the TV.

“They think it’s drug related,” Gunnar said.

“Yeah, I can read the ticker on the bottom,” Kinsey said. “Turn it up.”

Gunnar looked for the remote, but when he couldn’t find it he stood up and searched the couch.

“You’re sitting on the remote,” he snapped, yanking it out from under Kinsey’s ass. He was about to turn up the volume when the doorbell rang. “That must be the boys.”

“Come in!” Kinsey yelled.

“It’s my condo,” Gunnar said as he turned up the volume too much. “COME IN!”

The news reporter’s voice blared from the TV and Gunnar turned it down as the two of them watched a helicopter view of the carnage on I-5.

“Ooooh, looks like they found one of the cars,” Gunnar said, pointing to the TV as the view changed from the freeway to residential neighborhoods close by. “Don’t the boys have a Jeep like that?”

The doorbell rang again.

“COME IN!” Kinsey yelled. She nodded at Gunnar and watched the footage. “Yeah, they have a Wrangler. Silver, I think.”

“That’s funny because that one is silver,” Gunnar said. “Probably a popular color.”

The doorbell rang a third time.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Kinsey snapped and stood up quickly. “I left the door unlocked so they could just come in. I’m not going to be their butler while they are here.”

“No, I’d hate for you to suffer that indignity,” Gunnar smirked, waggling his sandwich at her.

“Shut up,” Kinsey said as she wiped her hands on her jeans and walked towards the small entryway and front door.

Gunnar kept watching the footage as he took another bite. The helicopter camera zoomed in on the speeding Jeep, showing the distinctive paint job, and the bite lodged in Gunnar’s throat. He turned towards the front door and started to yell, but only a choking sound came out.

Kinsey stopped and looked back at him. “You okay, Gun?” she asked then saw him choking and pointing at the TV. “Jesus, chew before you swallow.”

Gunnar coughed out the piece of sandwich and Kinsey actually jumped as it flew from his mouth and splattered against the TV screen. Her eyes saw the smear of grease and mustard then focused past as the camera zoomed in closer and closer on the Jeep that was dodging between cars and running streetlights.

“Is that…?” she asked. “No…”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you!” Gunnar said. “That’s the-”

The rest of his words were drowned out as automatic gunfire turned the front door into splinters.

***

“Dude! Only a few blocks away!” Shane yelled. “Take a right here!”

Max yanked the wheel to the right then immediately to the left, taking the Wrangler up onto someone’s front lawn as he avoided the two police cars that sped towards them.

“Fence!” Shane yelled as the Jeep ripped through the wooden slats like they were paper.

“Got it,” Max grinned.

“Pool!” Shane shouted.

“I see it!” Max shouted back. “I have both o
f
m
y
eyes!”

“Uncool,” Shane snapped.

Sirens filled the air as Max swerved to avoid the backyard pool and continued through the back fence, into an alleyway behind. He turned right and floored it, taking out several plastic trashcans and recycling bins, sending empty milk cartons and fat free Greek yogurt containers flying into the air.

They nearly made it to the end of the alley when the exit was blocked by four San Diego PD cruisers screeching to a halt. Max growled as he hit the brakes then slammed the Wrangler into reverse. Shane stood and started firing at the cruisers. He made sure the rounds only hit the dirt in front of the cars, not wanting to injure the officers, just keep them inside their cruisers.

“Fuck!” Max snapped as cruisers came at them from behind.

“Fence,” Shane pointed.

“Fence,” Max replied.

He put the Jeep back into drive and turned the wheel to the left, sending the Wrangler through yet another residential fence. No pool in the backyard that time meant he didn’t have to slow down as he took out the front gate and thumped across the lawn onto the next street. He didn’t bother turning straight onto the road, but instead just kept going forward.

“How close?” Max asked as one more fence met a splintery end.

“Just another block over,” Shane said, pointing ahead. “Actually keep going and we’ll just run right into the place.”

Max bumped up over the curb and sent the Jeep across another yard, thankfully a fenceless one. But the yard behind was fenced and it wasn’t made of wood.

“Shit,” Max said as he stopped the Wrangler in front of the wrought iron bars. “Is this it?”

“Right there,” Shane said as he jumped from the Jeep, pointing at the back of the row of townhouses in front of them. “She’s number seven.”

Max reached under his seat and pulled out a .45 pistol, racked the slide and hopped from the Jeep also. The sirens grew louder and he knew they had maybe two minutes before the police were there. If they were wrong, and there weren’t any cartel soldiers ready to ambush Helen and her kids, then the brothers were going to have a very hard time explaining their actions.

Not that it would be easy in any way, shape or form.

But that worry was quickly put to rest as bullets peppered the ground close to the Jeep.

***

The first man through the door met Kinsey’s fist to his face as he raced into the condo. She spun him about, turning him back towards the other men that charged inside, and yanked the AK-47 from him with one hand while snapping his neck with her other.

The second man through the door ended up with his intestines spilling everywhere as Kinsey opened fire.

“Get back to my room!” Kinsey screamed at Gunnar as she held the trigger down, sending lead flying into the bodies of the cartel soldiers as they tried to get to her. “Lock the fucking door and get a gun!”

“I don’t have a gun!” Gunnar shouted as he sprinted into the kitchen. “And I’m not leaving you!”

The AK clicked empty and Kinsey jumped onto the pile of men and flipped the rifle around, smashing it into the face of the next soldier that came through the door. He staggered and fell against the jamb, allowing the man behind him to get a clear shot.

Almost.

Bullets ripped through the man’s side and into the wall next to Kinsey as she dove away from the door, rolled, and came up running, heading for the hall.

“What are you doing?” she shouted as she passed the kitchen and saw Gunnar yanking open drawers. “Come on!”

She reached in and grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the kitchen and back towards the bedrooms. More gunfire erupted and the corner of the wall exploded in a shower of plaster and drywall. Kinsey ducked and shoved Gunnar forward, but he didn’t keep running, instead he turned and threw what was in his hand, just missing Kinsey by an inch.

The knife flew end over end then embedded itself in the shooter’s throat. The man squeezed off a few wild rounds as he fell to his knees, choking on his own blood. He was shoved out of the way by more cartel soldiers and this time Gunnar didn’t pause as Kinsey lowered her shoulder into his chest and pushed him down the hall.

They rushed into Kinsey’s bedroom and slammed the door shut, then grabbed the long dresser and braced it between the door and the bed. The top of the door became riddled with bullet holes and Kinsey yanked Gunnar to the floor. She reached under the bed and pulled out a long black case. Hurrying through the combo on the locks, she clicked the case open and grabbed the M-4 carbine inside.

“Got any blades?” Gunnar shouted over the gunfire.

“There!” Kinsey yelled, pointing to the bedside table. “Plenty!”

Gunnar crawled over and opened the drawer. Several knives of various sizes and shapes were piled inside. He jerked the drawer out of the table and set it next to him as he stayed to the side of the bed while Kinsey slapped a magazine into her carbine.

“I only have the one!” she said to him. “Thirty rounds and we’re done!”

Gunnar picked up a basic MK 3 MOD O knife typical of what the US Navy used, felt the weight in his hand, flipped it around his fingers quickly then looked at Kinsey.

“Then don’t miss,” he smiled.

“Are you enjoying this?” she snapped. “You better not be enjoying this!”

“I never get to be in the shit!” he replied.

“That’s a fucking good thing, asshole!” Kinsey yelled as she chambered a round and put the carbine to her shoulder.

“Well, try being the gay scientist on a Team of ex-SEALS and see how you like it!” Gunnar yelled.

The top of the door was completely obliterated and one of the attackers shoved his rifle barrel through. Kinsey squeezed off three shots and the man screamed and fell away. He was immediately replaced by another man who met the same fate. Then another. And another. The men finally stopped trying to get through and stood back away from the door.

“Can we get out the window?” Kinsey asked, her eyes never leaving the doorway.

“No,” Gunnar said. “No fire escape on this side.”

***

The Reynolds boys were busy hiding behind the Wrangler when the first cruisers came up over the yard behind them. They tried to wave the police off, but they just kept coming. Right into the automatic rifle fire the boys were taking cover from.

The cruisers’ windshields were puckered with bullet holes, the men inside jerking and shaking as they were ripped apart by heavy caliber slugs.

“Motherfuckers!” Max shouted.

The machine gun fire stopped and Shane rolled over onto his stomach, his rifle to his shoulder, one eye to his scope.

“Second floor, third window in,” Shane said then rolled back just as the gunfire started up again. “I can take him.”

“You suck,” Max said. “You want your brother to die?”

“What?” Shane asked flinching as dirt kicked up into his face by a dozen bullets.

“You’ll need a distraction so you can have time to set the shot,” Max said. “And I’m the only distraction.”

“Not quite,” Shane said and nodded back to the police cruisers.

More came from the street and sped through the yard towards them. The trajectory of the gunfire changed and the cruisers screeched to a halt, then sped in reverse to avoid the dozens of slugs that rained down on them.

Shane took that second to roll back out and set his shot He squeezed the trigger then rolled back to Max.

The automatic fire stopped.

There was silence for a few seconds and Shane ducked his head out from behind the Wrangler. A shot hit the earth two feet in front of him.

“Pistol,” Shane said, ducking back.

“9mm,” Max said. “They must have only sent two here thinking the road crew would get the job done.”