CHAPTER TWELVE

Trak and Clay ran side-by-side as they always did in the mornings. There was barely a sign of the frozen air coming from their lungs. To their left and back a few paces were Tanner and Hiro. Further back still were Joseph, Nathan, and Liffey. Able to avoid the potholes and curbs with barely a glance, their eyes scanned the area they were running, hoping to see what they were looking for.

“ Trak and Clay. Up ahead. I’ve got a male, black beanie, black pants, black shirt. There’s a large pack at his feet, and he’s lying face down on the top of a van. There’s a camera to his right, but I think he’s lying on something,” said AJ.

“Got him,” said Trak.

The van was probably a hundred yards ahead, watching the first of the runners coming toward him. They knew they had one of the men when he rolled slightly, pulling the long-range rifle from beneath his body.

“Weapon,” said Clay.

“Aim,” said Trak quietly.

They jogged to the side of the road, waiting to find their moment to leap above the other runners. Seeing the electrical box on the side of the road, Trak nodded to Clay. Just as they were about to run around it, both men leaped on top, crouching, and pointing the discs at their intended target.

Three discs hit the man. Two in the shoulders and one just below his Adam’s apple. He squirmed on top of the van, rolling to the side and falling onto the sidewalk. Runners glanced in his direction, but Clay waved them off.

“We’ve got him. Too much Bourbon Street last night,” he laughed.

Trak kneeled beside the man, checking for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. Gripping his collar, they pulled him toward the alleyway and waited for Luke and Cam to show up. Once there, they left him in their care and took off back into the run.

“That’s one,” said Clay. “There are more out there.”

“Then let’s find them.”

“Wakey, wakey bitch,” frowned Carl slapping the face of the man in the alleyway. He groaned, turning his head left and right as Luke searched for ID and other weapons. He didn’t find ID, but he damn sure found enough ammunition to kill dozens of people.

The semi-automatic rifle was now disabled, lying in the alleyway in pieces. He groaned louder and then stared up at the two faces.

“You’ve ten seconds to tell me who the fuck sent you,” said Carl. He said nothing, moving his jaw back and forth as if to wake it up again. “Eight, seven.”

“I don’t know his name,” said the man quietly, searching for his voice. “I’m just a hired gun.”

“Why? Why fire at innocent people in a mall or during a holiday run? Why?” yelled Luke.

“Not for me to say,” smirked the man, trying to push back. He looked down, realizing that he’d pissed his pants from the electrical shock sent through his body. Frowning, he tried to turn to the side, but Carl refused to let him.

“You’d better talk, dude, or I’m going to give you another zap and see if we can get you to shit your pants, not just piss,” he frowned. Carl turned his wrist upward, pointing his two fingers at the man.

“What is that?” he laughed. “Gonna wrap me up in a web?”

“Let’s find out.” Carl released one of the discs, hitting him again at the bare skin of his Adam’s apple. Shaking violently, the brothers watched as he convulsed, then stilled in front of them.

“Damn. Maybe that was one too many,” said Luke, kneeling beside him. He nodded, indicating that he was dead.

“Note to self. No more than three from a distance. One close range,” he said.

“At least two more out there. Let’s go.”

“What about him?” asked Carl.

“The police will get to him. Let’s find the others.”

They weren’t two blocks down the road when Ben and Adam spotted a man on the building across the street.

“Snipers? You see the man on the corner of Enunciation and Melpomene? He’s on the roof?” said Adam.

“Got him,” said Hawk. “I’m close enough to use the discs. Jumping to the next building.” He crouched behind the air conditioning unit, watching as the man lined up a shot. He had three rifles on tripods ready to go. Fortunately, his back was to Hawk. Quietly, he moved to the ledge of his own building, lined up the shot, and fired the discs. The man stood, jerking around from the electrical shot, and then stepped off the building, falling to the street below.

“Damn, Hawk,” muttered Ben. “You couldn’t just shoot him?”

“I was hoping to keep him alive. Shit.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Luke. “Find the other one. Find him now.”

Garr and Leif were running toward the overpass that they suspected would be where the worst of the events would take place. Searching the streets, alleyways, and bridges around them, they noticed a dark figure moving around the catwalk at the top of the bridge.

“Up there,” said Leif. The man turned, staring at the two men.

“Fuck me,” whispered Garr. “It’s Buzz. It’s fucking Ricky Busbee.” Leif raised his weapon, pointing it at the man.

“Don’t make me kill you, Buzz!” he yelled. The man only stared at him, taking another step up the ladder. As he did, the bag and rifle fell from his shoulder, dropping to the street below. He had two options: go down the ladder and try to get them back, which would surely end in his death.

Or run.

Wisely, he chose the latter. When he hit the top of the overpass, he took off running over the bridge. He noticed a drone chasing him and stopped, turning to fire at it with his pistol. It wobbled but didn’t completely fall. As cars stopped on the bridge to try and find out what the crazy man was doing, he opened the door of an old truck, tossed the driver to the concrete, and took off in the stolen vehicle.

“What the hell, Leif?” said Garr. “Buzz.”

“Let’s go. This just got complicated.”