Sleeper Cell Super Boxset (81 page)

Without Husein’s suppressive fire, the remaining militants were becoming more daring and quickly advancing from their concealed position.

“I’m trying!” Husein shouted.

Suddenly a shot rang out and hit the ground next to Husein’s arm. Then another. He rolled to the back of the tree and hid, shaking in panic.

“Don’t give up, Husein!” Craig shouted.

He looked into the forest, past the clearing where the militants had taken cover, and he fired at anything that moved. His pistol clicked, and he ejected his empty magazine and loaded the next. The choppers flew a quarter mile away, nearer to his cabin. Craig was temporarily relieved, but the fight wasn’t over. It was up to him and Husein to take them out. 

Husein ejected his magazine, slapped the side of the rifle and pulled back the charging handle. The ejecting port opened, and the jammed round flew clean out. He put the magazine in, pulled the handle back, and fired straight ahead just as four men, sensing a chance, dove from their concealment in pairs and charged at Craig from both sides.

Husein’s rounds tore through the legs of the two men running to Craig’s right. He rose up and fired at the two militants running at him from the left. The men rolled onto the ground, kicking up dirt and rocks. If Craig had counted right, there was one left, but he still hadn’t seen Ghazi.

“Hold your fire!” he yelled to Husein.

“I’m out of ammo anyway,” Husein answered back.

“All of it?” Craig asked.

“It was only one magazine.”

Suddenly, a shot rang out and flew through the tip of Craig’s shoulder, causing him to drop his pistol.

Craig pushed his back against the tree to avoid the spray of bullets, as blood oozed from the wound on his shoulder.

A single brass round lay in the grass near Husein, glaring under the sun. Shaking, Husein grabbed the round, jammed it in the empty mag, slapped the mag into the rifle, and fired—scoring a direct neck shot. The shocked militant dropped his rifle and flew back, clutching his throat. His back slammed against the ground as he choked on the warm blood rushing out of his neck and mouth.

The echo of gunshots faded into oblivion. Craig aimed forward, scanning the area for Ghazi. Had he fled to save himself? Bits of Nick’s laptop lay about on the ground and Craig knew that his son would be angry. But if the laptop was their only casualty, Craig could live with it. He kept a careful eye out, his pistol extended and his breathing slow and steady. 

“Ghazi! It’s over now. You might as well come out.”

There was no response.

“You coward. Come out and face me!” After a moment’s silence, Craig ran in the direction from which the militants had come, hoping to catch Ghazi before he made it back to his vehicle. He stopped, hearing a faint pop in the distance back toward cabin. The helicopters were still winding down, and he was certain that only one person could have set off that tripwire. He turned around and ran back, storming past Husein.

“To the cabin. Move!” he shouted.

Husein rose from the ground, covered in leaves, and grabbed the rifle. He tried to catch up, but Craig was already well ahead and sprinting back to the cabin where he was sure they were in danger. Despite his exhaustion, Husein ran on, hoping that everything was over.

Rachael was at the kitchen window with her .38 in hand. Her knees were shaking—her throat as dry as sandpaper. The faint shots in the distance sounded terrifying. Fear gripped her heart and she felt sick. Not knowing what was happening was even worse.

The front door was barricaded with a dresser from the bedroom and the living room couch. Mattresses had been placed in the bedroom windows. Nick watched from the other side of the living room, peeking from behind the curtains. The front deck was empty and a glimmer of blue from the lake could be seen past the rows of thin elm trees.

“We need to go out there and help him!” Nick said as he turned from the window. “He needs us!” Despite his calmness only minutes before, Nick now was growing frantic, as he realized what they were facing.

“I promised your father we would stay here.”

“I’m going out there. Give me your gun.” Nick walked toward the kitchen with his hand out.

Rachael pivoted around, clutching the revolver, her eyes glaring wildly. “You’re not going anywhere, you hear me?”

Startled, Nick stopped. Her voice was angry and demanding—uncompromising even.  

“And don’t give me that look,” she snapped, as if reading his mind.

“What if Dad’s in trouble? What if he needs us?”

Rachael’s eyes welled up again as the faint gun shots continued. “Your place is here with me. We have to defend the cabin.”

“Forget the cabin! Dad’s life is in danger.” Nick turned around and stomped off toward the front door. As he pushed on the couch, Rachael followed and grabbed his arm.

“Hey!” he said.

“Stop it,” Rachael told him. “I made a promise to your father, and you’re staying here.”

Nick yanked his arm away just as they heard the sound of helicopters flying overhead. They both stopped to listen. The humming of rotors in the sky grew louder, and the cabin seemed to be vibrating. Rachael turned to look in the kitchen as a coffee mug wobbled across the counter top. Nick then ran from the front door to the small kitchen window and looked up into the sky. “They’re getting closer. I think it’s FBI.”

Rachael felt a sudden joy as relief sweep over her. She rushed to the living room window and looked out. Nick was right. She could see two black helicopters with the FBI seal displayed on the pilot’s side and “FBI” written in big white letters toward the rear. They circled right over, shaking the cabin, and then flew away.

“What are they doing?” Nick asked. “Where are they going?”

“They’re probably looking for a good place to land,” Rachael said, hoping she was right.

More gunshots erupted outside. Rachael held her hands to her ears. The choppers returned and her hopes lifted. They were closer and louder than before, vibrating the entire cabin. Rachael looked out the kitchen window as sticks, leaves, and clouds of dust blew by.

“Hurry!” Nick said. He ran to the couch and started pushing it away. “They’re landing nearby and we have to tell them about Dad.”

Rachael listened for more gunshots but couldn’t hear anything over the whirring of blades that gradually grew fainter. Nick and Rachel then pushed the couch, causing it to scrape against the wooden floor. Nick put his hand on the doorknob and looked back at Rachael.

“Are you ready?”

She held the .38 close to her side and walked over to him. “Yes. But let me go first. We don’t know what’s out there.”

Nick moved out of the way as she opened the door, bringing a rush of bright light into the darkened cabin. They both squinted and proceeded outside onto the front deck.

As her eyes had adjusted to the light, Rachael was able to make out the figure of a man, standing in front of the cabin wearing camouflage gear and pointing a pistol at them. She froze in fear, shielding Nick and blocking him from taking another step.

The man’s dirt-streaked, bearded face was covered in beads of sweat leaking from under his black bandana. His steely glare didn’t leave their frightened faces. He had on a camo-green bullet-proof vest and a waist pack on his side. For a moment, no one said a thing. Rachael could stood paralyzed. Even with her gun in hand, she didn’t know what to do. The man was already aiming at them.    

“The laptop. Go get it,” he said bluntly.

Neither Rachael nor Nick reacted. Her mind raced in circles. Her first instinct was to run, but her legs were frozen in place.

“Do you hear me? I want the laptop. Now!”

“I-I..,” Rachael began.

“I don’t have time for games!” the man yelled. He glanced behind him, listening to the sound of the helicopters winding down and then turned back to Rachael. She attempted to hide her revolver behind her back, but he had already seen it.

“Drop it,” he said, motioning downward with his pistol. “I could shoot you and your son dead where you stand, so don’t mess with me.”

She released the revolver and it dropped noisily on the deck.

“Your husband brought us the wrong laptop,” he told her. “I’m no fool. Now send your son in there to retrieve the right one. He has twenty seconds, starting now.”

In a state of near shock, Rachael looked back at Nick, trying to form words which wouldn’t come.

“The MacBook?” Nick asked her.

She nodded fearfully.

“Yes, the MacBook, little one,” the man answered.

“Go,” Rachael said. “Get him what he wants.”

Nick ran inside and toward the bedroom in haste.

“He better not try anything. I’ve had enough games today, starting with your husband.”

“Who are you, and what do you want from us?” Rachael said, trying hard to keep her voice from trembling.

“My name is Ghazi, and we want many things. Vengeance upon your husband, for starters. The blood of every American running in the streets a close second.”

“You’ll get neither. The FBI is here, and they’ll be at the cabin any minute,” Rachael said.

“I can assure you, Mrs. Davis, I’m counting on it.”

“Where’s my husband?”

Ghazi shook his head. “Your liar of a husband made a deal with me. The deal was to spare your life and that of your son. But he then chose to go against his word, leaving me with no other choice but to take your family prisoner.”

“What did you do to him?” she shouted.

“Quiet,” Ghazi said, aiming his gun higher. “If your husband isn’t dead yet, he soon will be. My men have him surrounded.”

Rachael examined Ghazi closely, observing all the sand and grass covering his clothes. “But yet you fled. Why?”

Ghazi’s mouth went from a straight line to a crooked smile. “There’ll be no more questions from you, only answers to my demands. Now where is your son?”

The sound of FBI agents scrambling through the brush and coming toward the cabin could be heard behind them. Ghazi turned and saw silhouettes behind the trees moving closer. He looked at Rachael and pointed his gun to her head. “Call your son now.”

“Nick! Nick, please hurry.” Her eyes glanced down at her revolver on the ground.

“Don’t even consider it,” Ghazi said. “Now kick it over to me.”

She gave a reluctant nudge with her foot. 

Nick came out the front door and stopped at his mother’s side with the silver MacBook in hand.

“Good job,” Ghazi said with a self-satisfied smile. In a flash, his expression then turned incensed and livid. “Now come down here. Both of you!”

Rachael hesitated, then slowly moved down one step. “Please. Let my son go. He has nothing to do with any of this.”

“Don’t make me ask you again. If that happens, I’ll shoot you both where you stand.”  

Rachael took Nick by the hand and led him down the remaining two steps, stopping inches from Ghazi, who stood rigid and unwavering as he waited. He looked at Nick. “I want you to hold onto that laptop like it was your life. Now move!” he said, gesturing with his pistol.

Rachael walked ahead with Nick at her side. Ghazi ordered them to the back of the cabin, where he stopped to search for any signs of Craig or the FBI. The gunfire had ended, and he was left to wonder who had survived, if anyone. A strange and unsettling feeling told him that Craig was near. He needed to move quickly, and for that reason he un-strapped his vest, pulled it over his head, and tossed it on the ground.

He then took the handle of the pistol and smashed out the above kitchen window. Startled, Rachael and Nick looked at each other, unsure of what Ghazi was up to.

“Stay right there, and don’t move until I tell you,” he said. “When the time comes, you’d better be ready to run.”

“What are you planning to do?”

Ghazi took a step toward her and put the pistol directly against her forehead again, causing her to wince. “What did I say about questioning me? Must I make an example of you?”

He turned away from her, appearing fidgety and distracted. As he held them captive outside at the rear of the cabin, the agents kicked the front door open and stormed inside.

Knowing the FBI agents were inside, Rachael was ready to scream to them, to call out, despite what Ghazi might do to her. They watched Ghazi as he dug into his waist pack. To their shock, he drew a frag grenade from his pouch, pulled the pin out, and tossed it inside the cabin, through the kitchen window. They heard it hit the ground and roll along the hardwood floor.

“Get out of the cabin now!” Rachael shouted. “There’s a grenade!”

Ghazi pointed the gun at her. “Better start running, loud mouth.”

“Grenade! Move out!” one of the agents shouted from outside.

They heard more shouting and stomping around as the agents scrambled to flee the cabin in time.

Ghazi put his gun to Rachael’s head. “Move!”

She ran, holding Nick’s hand as he held onto the laptop. Ghazi followed from behind, jamming the gun into her back. “You want to get blown up? Run faster!”

They ran toward a thick patch of Elms frightened at Ghazi’s screaming demands and his incessant jabs of the pistol. Moments later, an explosion erupted behind them at the cabin.

The blast shook the ground. Rachael could hear wood planks splinter and felt the heat of the blaze as the cabin went up in flames, glass popping, beams crashing, and then, the cries of men howling in pain. As they reached the thick concealment of vine-covered trees, she managed to turn her head and see half of the cabin engulfed in flames and burning to the ground. 

Nowhere to Run

As Craig raced toward the cabin, the explosion nearly sent him stumbling backward in shock. He regained his footing and pushed on with Husein behind him. Fire quickly spread throughout the intact portion, and the crippling fear of loss stunned Craig as he shouted for Rachael and Nick.

Two FBI agents came running out, each carrying an injured agents over their shoulders. The closer he got, the more Craig could hear the cries of pain from within. He passed a severed leg lying in the grass, and the jarring sight nearly stopped him in his tracks.